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So... hecantext. Just not me. Good to know.
On the third night in a row in Matthias's apartment alone, it's also the third night I haven't been able to sleep. Well, not alone, Marika, his housekeeper, is here, but when I'm home, she's mostly asleep in her room.
It's just the third night withouthim.
He hasn't answered any of my messages, only texting around three a.m. each night to make sure that I've arrived home safely, although I'm sure that he is getting reports from Kevin.
"This is stupid," I finally say around four-thirty a.m., and kick my blankets off. I'm suddenly ravenous. My appetite must be coming back after...Patrick. After three days of having had my lunch brought to me, I've barely eaten much more than a Caramello Koala since Matthias left.
Wandering in a house that isn't yours at night time is a strange experience. Night already distorts everything, and not knowing where everything is just makes it feel like wandering about a magic fun house in the dark.
I make it to the kitchen; it's a giant expanse of drawers, appliances, and ovens and stoves. I haven't seen Matthias cook here once, but maybe when he's not busy chaperoning me at the club, he cooks up a storm for himself and... whoever else.
Tar fills my stomach.
I hate the thought that he's with someone else. I fucking hate it.
And I shouldn't, but I do.
How I fell into this predicament I don't know.
Matthias is smooth,toosmooth, everything he says comes with a smirk behind it. What made me think it was any different with me? Who the fuck do I think I am?
My stomach rumbles in the silence and I shuffle over to the fridge, opening it to see a full fridge with ingredients for sandwiches or simple meals.
Great.
Except I can't cook for shit.
Maybe a glass of warm milk, then?
I grab the jug of milk and go looking for a mug.
I'm impressed by the layout of the kitchen; everything is stored intuitively. Everything is exactly where you think it should be.
I find the drink ware cupboard and pick a porcelain cup with a pretty wildflower pattern on it. I press a minute on the microwave and watch my milk make its first turn on the glass plate.
Despite the not-yet-feeling-like-home surroundings, the small domestic task warms me, and I hum under my breath as I walk back to the fridge to put the milk away, a little swing in my step.
But when I turn back to the fridge to put the milk jug away, a dark figure emerges out of the shadows.
"Hi, Clarissa."
Chapter 21
Matthias
Herscreampiercesmyeardrum and I wince as she freezes, the milk jug slipping out of her hands. We both watch as it falls in slow motion, crashing on the floor, the thick white liquid spreading all over the floor.
"Nice," I say.
She clasps her chest and takes a few deep breaths before she gasps, "What—"
"—am I doing here?" I feel the corners of my mouth twitch. "Really? Even in my house?"
Her eyes narrow, a coldness creeping in that wasn't there before. It makes me instantly regretful that I'd scared her. I just hadn't been able to wait any longer. I'd just walked into my apartment when I saw her come down the stairs and watched as she'd wandered around my kitchen, seeing her slowly relax, feeling more at home. The soft humming had been my undoing.
The humming, the little sway of her ass, it was all the reason I'd come back.
