But why would my eyes play those kinds of evil tricks on me? That was just cruel and unusual punishment. Did they hate me for some reason? Had I pissed them off for staying up late one night too many, straining them to exhaustion as I’d squinted at my laptop and furiously tried to finish papers I had due the next day? They thought they’d get their revenge on me and play this kind of horrible game, telling me I was seeing things that in no way could actually be real.
The couple on the couch startled in surprise when I accidentally alerted them to my presence by losing my grip on the two grocery sacks I was holding, as they loudly crashed to the floor by my feet.
Annabeth glanced over her shoulder and screamed when she saw my silhouette in the doorway. Grabbing a throw pillow—also mine—she desperately tried to cover her bouncing breasts, while Topher yanked himself from her body to spin my way and flash me with a disturbing view of his dick that was still hard and wet from dipping itself inside Annabeth.
“Oh, fuck! Haven!” he cried in guilty despair, covering his junk with both hands as if to prove no misdeeds had been going on here. Nothing to see, just two people hanging out on a couch, all chill and relaxed. It was just total happenstance they both happened to be naked and their privates had been connecting…repeatedly. No biggie.
“Baby, I can explain.”
Well, hell. Now my ears were in on the conspiracy, because that sure sounded like my boyfriend’s voice as he flew off the couch, away from Annabeth.
But what had I done to piss off my ears into making me hear things that weren’t real? I didn’t play music too loudly or attend eardrum-bursting concerts. I swear I even kept the volume in my earbuds at a nice, moderate level. Why would my ears betray me like this, too?
It must be my eyes, going behind my back and tempting my ears over to the dark side. Yeah. Let’s fuck up Haven’s life and make her see and hear things that aren’t real. It’ll be fun.
Bastards.
Topher stepped toward me, stretching out a hand, his eyes filled with concern and apology. I jerked a step back, freaking out, because what if he touched me and I actually felt him? Two senses turning on me and playing tricks on my mind I could buy, but if a third joined the game…? I don’t know. That would make this feel a little too real. And if this was real, then…then my boyfriend of three fucking years was cheating on me. In my apartment. With my roommate. On my goddamn couch!
That’s when it happened. Sensory receptor number three kicked in, and my nose perked to attention, sniffing out the scent of sex.
“Oh, God,” I uttered, backing away and shaking my head in denial.
I saw it, I heard it, I smelled it. That was empirical evidence right there; this was very much happening.
I’d just become a miserable cliché, one of those poor girls who’d just walked in on her boyfriend in the actual act of having sex with someone close to her.
So not cool.
“Haven, just…wait!”
Of course, I didn’t wait. Like I’d do anything that cheating bastard ordered me to do. Yeah, think again, pal.
Spinning away, I took off in a blind panic. I swear, my brain literally shut down on me and I reacted on pure instinct. Flight-or-fight time, baby, and I was flying from this joint because the idea of fighting didn’t appeal. I mean, what if I tried to kick him in the nads and accidentally experienced some skin-on-skin contact and felt squishy, dangling body parts, or parts he’d just been putting inside someone else? Nope, couldn’t do that. So, running was in and fighting, out.
Just until I regrouped, processed, and figured out what I was going to do about this, though. Because, holy shit, what the hell was I going to do about this? My entire life had just altered in the space of two seconds. Like flipped onto its freaking axis, a one-hundred-eighty-degree polar altercation of everything I knew, and everything I was.
Topher hadn’t just been my boyfriend; he’d been my future. I’d been making plans to move in with him after graduation, pay all my bills with him, eat all my meals with him, eventually marry and start a family with him, share my entire freaking life with him. And he’d just ruined that.
All of it.
Blindsided by the betrayal and mortified for being a sucker who’d actually trusted such a liar, I shook my head as my breathing went scattered and chest heaved, feeling as if it’d just been hit by a Mack truck.
But seriously, how could he do this to me? Oh my God, it hurt. I’d put all my confidences, and faith, and loyalties into this guy. I knew he wasn’t perfect, but I had still loved him for everything he tried to be. Except this…this…
Black dots danced in my vision and vertigo assailed me as I shoved open the door to the stairwell and the steps going down seemed to sway unsteadily. I had bypassed the elevator because elevators meant standing and waiting, and who the fuck could stand there and just wait in the midst of a full-on, panic-mode crisis?
Yes, running was really the thing to do right now. No idea where I was running to, but I was trying to get there as fast as was humanly possible. Clutching the railing for dear life, I managed to drunkenly wobble my way down the stairs at warp speed. It’d be a miracle if I made it out of the building alive. There was another flight of steps after this one.
Above me, Topher crashed through the doorway, yelling my name. I glanced back, my hair flying into my face. Between brown tangled strands, I noticed he’d put on pants and was in the process of tugging a shirt over his head. Dammit. In the state I was in, he’d catch me soon.
Being caught would be bad. I’d probably claw his face off. And, while there was some appeal to that idea—and I mean a lot of appeal—something in me said it was still
probably a bad plan, something to do with legalities and jail time. Though, if he caught me and it came to that, I’d gladly spend the night behind bars because the claws would come out. And it’d be so worth it to sink them into his stupid, lying face.
But then, I also worried I’d start crying if he caught me, and there was just no way I was going to let that cheater see one drop of my precious heartbreak. It was hard for me to share my tears with anyone. So he definitely wouldn’t be getting them.
Changing tactics, because I really didn’t want to trip and fall headlong down the steps, and the flip-flops I wore were hampering my flight considerably, I pushed through the doorway that led to the second floor dorms—full of freshmen and sophomores who had to share a single room, unlike the nicer apartments we seniors had up on the third floor.