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His laughter follows me out of the house.
37.
Bellamy
I’m sitting in the newly opened Mackley library, studying. I’d gone back and forth deciding if I should come back here, unsure if I could set foot in this place when it was so full of recent memories with Rogue.
Ultimately, I’d decided he’d taken a lot from me already and I wasn’t going to let him take books away from me on top of everything else.
Plus, I have another six months left at RCA. If I avoid every place that holds memories of him and I together, then I’ll effectively become a recluse.
It’s Saturday so the library is empty except for yours truly. I’m doing my best to focus my attention on the World History lesson and not let my thoughts wander thinking of all the dirty things we did between, and often against, those shelves.
I get on my tiptoes, reaching to grab a book on Winston Churchill from the top shelf, when the air in the room changes. A chill runs down my spine and I come back down slowly, not turning around. A body closes in against my back as a hand comes over my shoulder and easily reaches for the book. He hands it to me and takes a step back.
“Go away.”
“Rhys saw you with Jeremy atBella’syesterday. What were you doing with him?”
Thanks, Rhys.
Clutching the book in my hand, I turn around. Being prepared to see him doesn’t lessen the blow of actually coming face to face with him in any way.
He stands before me, a dark king with dangerous, thunderous energy swirling around him. He’s in black slacks and a white button down shirt casually opened to reveal the smooth expanse of his chest. A couple brown locks have fallen haphazardly on his forehead, his hair looking very disheveled overall.
Almost like he’s been racking his hands through it repeatedly. It only adds to his wild and untamed look.
“Is that a joke?”
His jaw works, his teeth clenched tight as he levels me with a glare. “Do I look like I’m laughing?”
I hurl the book at him and because Churchill was problematic to say the least, it’s a thick one. He plucks it out of the air with infuriating ease, grabbing it before it can hit him.
“Get lost, Rogue. I’m not going to entertain this conversation with you.”
Turning back towards the shelves, I pretend to search for another book hoping he’ll understand that I want nothing to do with him and leave.
“You move on fast.”
I whip back around so fast, I almost snap my neck. “What did you just say?” I ask him because surely that must have been an auditory hallucination.
“I said,” He starts, and I just know he’s going to repeat it. “You move on fast. Especially for someone who claimed to love me just last week.”
I stare at him, stunned and frozen to the spot. Throwing my love for him as an accusation in my face is low, even for him.
I walk up to him so we’re standing toe to toe and get up as close to his face as I can.
“Not as fast as you.’ I hiss.
I go to move past him but he grabs my arm, yanking me back against his body. I feel the anger vibrating in his chest. How is he acting the injured party here?
He’s the one who ripped my heart out of my chest with his bare hands, not the other way around.
“Get your hands off me.”
“What were you doing with him, Bellamy? Rhys showed me a picture, he had his hands all over you.”
I try yanking my arm out of his grasp, but he keeps me locked in place. His hold doesn’t loosen, no matter how hard I pull at it.
