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But of course, I nodded off in the middle of it and the next thing I knew it was morning. And I was under the covers, my head on my pillow rather than on your muscular, summer-scented shoulder. Which means you must’ve put it there, put me there before you left.
You put everything back.
Like it was before you’d come in.
And I know you enough now to know that you did it to protect me.
Because that’s how you are.
Whether you like it or not.
And this is what I am: a good girl.
And whether you like it or not, I’ll protect you too.
~Echo.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Three days later, I’m standing at the edge of yet another party.
Happening at the same place as the last party, in the woods. And it’s probably attended by the same group of people. I think it goes without saying that I don’t like parties. Not at all. I’ve never liked them even when I’d go to them with Lucas. But he was my boyfriend and I wanted to make him happy so I’d go. And the fact that this is like, my third party in only ten days or so, is making me hate them even more.
The only consolation is that he is here with me.
My ex-boyfriend’s ex-best friend.
We stand at the edge of the commotion, surveying the scene.
Or rather he’s surveying the scene, I’m lost in thoughts.
Thoughts of how this is the first time I’m seeing him after the movie night, and that I haven’t even thanked him for putting my room and me to rights. Looking away from the party that I wasn’t paying attention to anyway, I look up at him by my side.
“Thank you.”
He snaps his eyes over at me, a thick frown between his brows.
His bruises have calmed down a bit more, which is good.
What isbetteris that he doesn’t have any new ones.
Meaning he hasn’t been in any fights lately. It’s still a mystery to me as to why he was in the first one at all but I’m happy nonetheless.
“For the other night,” I explain, when all he does is stare down at me like I’ve lost my mind. “For, uh, getting me under the covers. And you know, putting away my laptop and things before you left.”
I don’t see where the confusion is now that I’ve explained everything.
Or if it is, in fact, confusion that’s making him frown at me still.
“I’m just saying,” I go further. “Because I didn’t. I hadn’t, thanked you I mean.” Then, “The next line is yours. And it’s supposed to be ‘you’re welcome.’”
At this, he turns at me with a sharp sigh. “You listen to anything that I just said?”
“What?” Then it hits me. “Oh! Sorry. You were saying something.”
He was.
Shit.
