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I didn't let him finish. Heaving myself up, I straightened my spine. “Of course she has.”
LOLA
Dion didn't come to me like I expected him to. Like Elodie had said he would when she and Jax had left. Like Erik had promised as he said his goodbyes and slammed the front door behind him. He was the last one to leave, and since then it had been one long silence.
The apartment felt empty, even though I could hear the shower through the bathroom door. Standing outside the locked door, I listened for a few minutes, a sigh leaving my lips. It was clear that Dion wasn't going to surface anytime soon.
He was embarrassed.
I was as well. Even after Elodie had explained a dozen reasons why I shouldn't be, I was still mortified. Kissing me had made Dion sick. As romance went, it made ours pretty dead in the water. Not that I wanted to believe that. Whatever was going on between us hadn't even really started, so I didn't want to believe it was over already.
Groaning, I rubbed my hands across my face hard, trying to remind myself what Elodie had said.It wasn’t you. It was the smell of alcohol.Deep down, I knew she was right, but it didn't make me feel any better. If anything, it made me feel worse. Because I should have thought about the fact he was a recovering addict. I should have been more thoughtful and more compassionate and…well, just more. That’s who Dion thought I was.
That was the problem with people’s assumptions. The expectations they put on me were next to impossible to live up to. And Dion was the worst of the lot. He had me placed on a pedestal like I was some sort of angel. I wasn't an angel. I was a flesh and blood woman and I made mistakes like any human.
Groaning again, I padded towards the living room, and my eyes widened. The room I usually relaxed in looked like a bomb had gone off. Glasses and paper littered every surface and there were spills all over the coffee table. Dionysus Rising might be the cream of the crop of rockstars, but they were slobs like any other – there was no denying that.
Bending to gather up a stack of used plastic shot glasses, I grimaced. My fingers were sticky from the remnants of the alcohol in them, and a wave of unease flooded me. I didn't want to pick up after a bunch of drunk rockstars like I was their maid. I should have made them clear up their own damn mess, but…but I couldn't let Dion come out to it all, either. That wouldn't be kind. Not after what had happened. But then again, nothing anyone had done tonight had been kind to him.
It was a miracle he was sober at all.
Gathering up as many plastic glasses as I could, I dumped them in the bin just inside the kitchen door and reached for a cloth. The place stunk of booze. Even as tipsy as I was, I could smell it. And if I could, then Dion would definitely be able to. I was in the middle of wiping down a particularly stubborn sticky spot on the glass table when I heard the bathroom door open and then a bedroom door shut.
Dion was done with his shower. Holding my breath, I cleaned the last traces of our impromptu party away and waited for him to come out to me.
He didn't.
Five, and then ten minutes went past and there was nothing but silence punctuated with the sound of my laboured breaths. I was crying softly, and I hadn't even realised it. Angrily, I wiped my tears, refusing to cry over him. I hadn’t meant to do anything wrong. I hadn't meant to hurt him, so why was he punishing me? Unless, of course, it had nothing to do with what I had been drinking and everything to do with me.
Maybe Dion just wasn't that into me after all. Maybe living with me for a few days had made him realise I wasn't what he thought I was.
Hell, maybe I had made it too easy for him.
Dumping the trash bag untied by the back door, I stomped my way to my bedroom. Only, I didn't get there. Dion's bedroom door, which was really Elodie's door, was half open, giving me a clear view of the bed where Dion sat with his back to me.
It was difficult to resist gawking at his damp, dark hair and tanned body.
And wide, shaking shoulders.
I did a double take and any thought of slamming my bedroom door and telling him to go to hell if he ever dared talk to me went out the window.
Dion was crying. I was sure of it. He was trying hard not to, but the quivering shoulders gave him away. He needed someone.
And whether he liked it or not, I was the only person available.
“Dion.”
He didn't move or even acknowledge I had spoken, but his shoulders tensed, so I knew he’d heard me.
“Dion, are you ok?” My voice came out a croaky whisper, and I wondered if he’d even heard it.
No answer. He just sat there, unmoving. But he knew I was there and he must have heard the uncertainty in my voice. Or at least I thought he might have.
I had a decision to make. Leave him alone, which was obviously what he wanted me to do or… Without thinking too much about it, I pushed open the door. Climbing across Elodie's wide bed, I wrapped my arms around his quivering shoulders and let my forehead fall onto the back of his neck.
“I'm so sorry,” I murmured and squeezed his shoulders, which tensed under my hands. “I didn't think and…” A sob made my next words impossible to understand. Clearing my throat, I tried again, and a tear fell onto his warm skin. “I just wanted you to know I'm sorry.”
He still didn’t move.
