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That's all it was: Sex and stress relief. Nothing more, nothing less.
So why does his absence make me feel this way?
“Wanna come over?” Tay asks, watching me fiddle with my scraps. “Beats sitting at home alone. You can help us paint the upstairs rooms.”
“I don't know. Maybe.”
Maybe I could sit around all night checking my phone like a fucking loser.
Maybe I could pace around my apartment, wondering where the fuck my roommate is.
Or…
Or maybe I should remember that I’m twenty-five years old, single, and not responsible for a grown man’s decisions.
Why the hell am I acting as if I owe him something? He's got his own life and I've got mine.
“Actually,” I say slowly, “I think I'll hit up Owen’s party.”
Taylor tilts his head. “Yeah? You sure?”
“Why not? It's Halloween, right? We're still young. I'm off tonight. Might as well have fun and find some sexy women in costume to dance with.”
“There he is,” my best friend grins, punching me on the arm. “Typical night for you, man. Don't forget to wrap it up.”
With a scoff, I grab my jacket and keys, forcing myself not to check my phone again as we exit the shed. Not now, not ever.
If Dev wants to disappear for a night—or a fucking week—that’s his choice. I’m not waiting around like a love-sick puppy.
He's made it clear that he wants his space, so I'll fucking give it to him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Devon
It's late evening by the time my rideshare drops me off at home.
For a long moment, I just stand in the driveway with an idiotic grin on my face and stare at the pinkening sky. A few stars peek out here and there, which is fine. I don't even care if they see me right now. I feel so good.
When I finally step up to the door and jiggle the handle, it doesn't budge. But my smile stays in place, because I’m still riding the high of freedom, adrenaline buzzing under my chilled skin.
Accepted.
The judge accepted my plea deal.
No prison. Probation, drug court and community service, but no fucking cell for the next fifteen years. I walked out of that courtroom feeling lighter than I have in a long fucking time.
“Christian,” I shout, switching my grocery bag to the other hand before banging on the door. “Logan? Open up, it's Dev.”
Silence greets me from the other side, and I lean against the door to pull my phone out of my dress pants. With a chuckle, I look down at the black button-up I'm wearing. Bought it off a discount rack this morning before court, along with more new clothes in the bag. It felt surreal being a functional member of society for once, but… in a good way.
It also reminded me that I need to start working out again. I miss the muscles I used to have.
Pulling up my messages, the grin on my face grows when I see Christian’s two texts from earlier.
You good?
I'm running a few errands today if you wanna come. And then come with.
