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“Hey there.”
I turn at the sound of the familiar voice.
“Hi.”
Blaine reaches out for a hug, and I wrap my arms loosely around him, patting him on the back like a friend rather than clinging to him. I did this man wrong. I should’ve been clearer about what our relationship was rather than letting him think he had a chance.
“I’m glad to see you’re back.”
“It’s good to be back,” I say, wishing it wasn’t a partial lie.
I don’t want to be on campus. College is more just a means to an end than anything else. If I don’t want to wait tables for the rest of my life, it’s a necessity. I’m going to try to make the best of it, but I’m not happy I’m here.
“Is that vodka?” he asks, pointing at the bottle of water.
“Just water,” I say, wondering how we went from being such good friends my first semester to damn near strangers. I guess getting kidnapped and tied to a chair with the threat of death will really make a guy reevaluate his choice in friends.
“Did you want to dance?” I ask, hitching my thumb over my shoulder.
He eyes the dance floor, his nose scrunched up, making me remember the man loathes dancing.
“I’m meeting a date here. I better go look for her,” he says. “It was nice to see you.”
“You too,” I say, watching as he walks away, getting swallowed up in the crowd.
I feel clunky, my movements mechanical rather than flowing like they would be with the lubrication of alcohol. I do my best to sway my hips to the music, but even closing my eyes doesn’t seem to help.
I need safe, but safe isn’t what I want.
I want adventure. The threat of danger, and the urge to embrace some form of chaos, flows through me, urging me to get crazy.
I feel a little insane with the mental struggle I’m having. What I need and what I want are two very different things. I feel directionless despite being on campus because the light at the end of the tunnel seems so far away. What I want in the end isn’t something I want to have to work for. I know how damn selfish and entitled that is, but it doesn’t change how I feel.
Does it show growth that I know I want to have money but not have to really work for it? Maybe lots of people feel that way, but they know the impossibility of it, so they just keep plugging away at life, hoping they catch a couple of breaks along the way.
I open my eyes, once again looking around the room, knowing it’s muscle memory to look for him even though I know the days of him showing up here are over.
I sigh, my body stopping right in the middle of the makeshift dance floor. Being safe is boring, and honestly, it’s not something I can do.
I leave the house before I do something stupid like go on a one-woman mission to find the bottom of the keg.
I consider other options for my life, but all roads in my head lead back to Donavan.
Fuck, it’s going to be a long-ass year.
Chapter 36
Donavan
I ignore the pep in my step as I pull up outside the house. Being gone for nearly a week has been much too long, and I know that if I keep working jobs Angel sets me up on, they have to be over faster.
I consider taking Alani with me, but the danger would be too great. I think she’d enjoy some of those adventures, but risking her safety in an environment I can’t control just won’t happen.
I insert my key into the front door, but when I turn it, I meet no resistance. My blood runs cold, knowing the front door is unlocked.
Pulling my gun from my jeans, I hold it ready, my pulse pounding in my ears.
The living room is as neat and orderly as I left it. The coffee cup I used to drink water from before heading to work is still on the counter.
The bedroom is empty, the bed unmade. A sweep of the rest of the house shows nothing out of order. If I had to guess, I’d say she woke up the morning I left and fucking took off herself.
I reholster my gun and run my hand down my beard, annoyance at her being gone settling inside of me.
It’s early afternoon, so I guess there’s a chance she’s at work. The thought of her going back to that disgusting diner pisses me off. The logical part of me argues that I didn’t set her up like I should’ve. I didn’t tell her that she didn’t have to work. I didn’t provide her with cash for food. Hell, I didn’t get her number or give her mine. Basic reasoning would show that not having a conversation with her left her having to make all the decisions on her own.
