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As soon as I close the door, I change out of my dress and into my baggy sweatpants and sweatshirt, the same outfit I wanted to wear last night. I wanted to wear it as protection, but now I realize even the deterrent of swimming in these clothes isn't enough. Now, I wear it for comfort.
I climb into bed and hope sleep takes me before Xander tries to speak to me again. Maybe I'll be so deep in sleep that he can't wake me, but I'm not that stupid to really believe that. After what happened tonight, I'll sleep very lightly, on high alert.
Then, I'm going to be raped tomorrow. First time I've ever heard of rapists making appointments but I guess there's a first for everything.
"Laura." I hear my name, but pretend to be asleep, knowing it's Xander. "Darling, I know you're angry and I deserve that."
I grit my teeth at his words. "Leave me alone." I tuck my hands under my head, hoping he does what I ask, but I should know better.
"Just give me—"
"No!" I sit up with anger racing through me and find the saddest look on his face, but I don't let it affect me.
He doesn't care about me. Why should I care if he's pretending to be upset? That's all it is, a game of pretend.
I stand from the bed and push him square in the chest. "How fucking dare you say that shit, then act like you're the fucking victim here? Fuck you. I'm not a toy, Xander. I'm a person with feelings and thoughts, and I'm allowed to be upset that you thought it was a good idea to pretend you give a damn about my—"
Suddenly, his fingers are around my neck as he yanks me to him, stealing the most insanely passionate kiss I could ever hope to receive. His facial hair tickles me in the best way as he steals kiss after kiss, leaving me breathless.
This man is a damn kiss thief if I've ever seen one. I don't want to kiss him back, but I have no control over my body's reaction to him.
His lips leave mine and his eyes fill with need that makes my knees tremble. "Did that feel fake to you?" he rasps against my lips as he runs his tongue along my bottom lip. "It didn't feel fake to me. That felt so fucking real, darling. Me not being able to stop thinking about you when we're apart isn't fake either."
I can't speak or move. I'm trapped in his gaze. It does feel real, but I know what I heard. I would never talk that way about someone I'm interested in and, if Xander would, I want no part of this thing with him. Even if that means sacrificing the safety he provides. I'm going to be hurt by the men in this club anyway. At least I'll still have my dignity.
Still, I can't deny how desperately I want him and his touch. I want his heart, but I don't have it, and maybe I never will.
His fingers trails along my jaw and my entire body tenses, remembering when his father did that to me.
You'll need a harder exterior to survive this life. Don't think of falling in love.
I can still feel where he touched me and I want to puke. Instead, I roughly pull away from Xander, noticing the concern on his face. He knows something happened. He just doesn't know what.
"Come on. I'll explain everything," he says as he offers his hand to me, somehow knowing I can't handle being touched right now.
I carefully place my hand in his, but he doesn't move. His eyes warm and inviting as he strokes my wrist. "You can tell me anything, Laura. If someone did something tonight that hurt you…" he trails off but the protection on his face borders on murderous.
"I'm fine," I spit out on instinct, used to pretending nothing is wrong to save face.
"You're obviously not. You're shaking, darling."
"I have a panic disorder. Shit happens." It's not a lie. I was diagnosed when my dad died, after I watched him die.
"Panic disorder?" His eyes widen.
"My dad died when I was eight and I saw it happen. I was diagnosed shortly after." Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I see my dad on that floor, his eyes lacking all life, blood dripping from his ears.
We were home alone for hours before my mom, Gillian, and Ivan came home. I sat by his side, screaming for help. I was too young to know to call 911 for help. The coroner said it was an aneurysm, but that cause of death doesn't erase the trauma that came with it.
"Fuck. That's horrible."
At least he didn't try to apologize like every other person who hears the story of my dad's death. I hate it when people say they're sorry and it's not something they did.
I'm sorry you had to go through that.
I'm sorry for your loss.
I hate it so much. Somehow, I get the feeling Xander already knows this. He knows not to apologize.
