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"Yes, sir."
"And, Kevin"—I hate that I even have to tell him this—"make sure no one is waiting outside the club when she gets there, okay?"
Something about the thought that that fucking low life is just lingering around there makes me want to murder him.
My legs forget that they've already run ten miles; I leg it all the way to Malt.
***
"She hasn't left," Kevin tells me when I get there.
"How did she look?"
He grimaces. "Not great, sir. She was carrying her clothes in her arms, though, and wearing a pair of sweatpants and a big T-shirt."
My clothes. She doesn't hate me enough not to wear my clothes. I itch to see how she looks in them.
The club's back door is locked, and while it stops me going inside, I'm glad that she's at least trying to be cautious.
So, I knock.
I knock for ten minutes, trying not to scare her after her ordeal yesterday.
"Clarissa, it's Matthias. Let me in," I shout until my throat is hoarse. I knock until my knuckles are sore and red, but I still keep trying, banging on the door.
Suddenly, the door flings open.
She's still dressed in my T-shirt and track pants but her hair is wet, face clean, clear of makeup.
"Matthias, what are you doing here?" she says, wary.
Seriously? "What am I doing here?You just snuck out of the apartment."
"I didn't sneak!" She frowns. "I just left to go home." Something unreadable flashes across her face and it's gone before I can catch it.
"You're not feeling well." It's a statement rather than a question. It's impossible trying to argue with her.
"I'm feeling fine. I got some sleep and now I'm ready just to be alone." She tries to close the door on me but I step in past her into the club. "What are you doing?" she yells.
My hand tangles in my hair, which is still dripping with sweat from my run. "What amIdoing? I'm about to make some things very clear."
Worry fills her face. "Okay..."
I take a moment, walking away for a few seconds and then swing back to her. "We're doing this, right? I mean, that's what it seemed like. You didn't say it outright but, before you fainted it looked like... well, it looked like you were in."
She sighs. "I'm not sure, Matthias. It's going to be miserable for both of us."
"It doesn't have to be." Do I really think that? We can't go two minutes without wanting to rip the other's head off with our bare hands.
She's thinking the same thing because she says, "How can it not? We can't look at each other without fighting!"
I can't help but grin. "Well, maybe if you stopped being such a bitch."
Her eyes narrow and she points to the door. "Get the fuck out, ballbreath."
I laugh. Why does her annoyance feel so good? And where did she learn all these new insulting names? "I was joking, Rissie. Sheesh. I know you can't stop being a bitch!"
"Matthias!" she yells but then winces and her hand come up to cradle her head.
