I’d always loved getting under his skin and pissing him off, but it would seem I also had a thing for making him happy.
“Fuck this.”
My head was too messed up to stay in the apartment. I needed space so I could think, could figure out what the fuck was going on with me.
I grabbed the van keys and my wallet out of my discarded jeans and stuffed them into my pockets, then pulled on a hoodie and stuck my phone in the front pocket.
The apartment was quiet and dark. Jules must be in his room.
Thank fuck.
The last thing I needed right now was to see his big doe eyes as he stared at me like he didn’t know if he wanted to fight me or fuck me.
With him, I wanted both. At the same time.
Jesus.
Pushing everything from my mind, I hurried out of the apartment and down to the sad-looking parking lot and got in the van.
My stomach growled.
It was after ten, close to eleven, and I hadn’t eaten since before my last class. I’d hoped that my quest to get drunk would have been accelerated by my empty stomach, but now that drinking myself stupid wasn’t on the agenda, I needed food.
There was a small Chinese restaurant on the other side of town, past off campus housing, one of those hole-in-the-wall places that only served takeout. They were open until two on weekends.
The drive over there would hopefully clear my head, and the food would help settle some of my anger. I didn’t get hangry, but I wasn’t exactly sunshine and rainbows when I was hungry.
My mind made up, I started the van, put it in reverse, and backed out of my parking space.
* * *
When I came backfrom getting my food, the apartment was completely dark. A sliver of light glowed under Jules’s door, and I fixated on it as I closed the door behind me.
His voice, soft and melodic, floated toward me. He was probably talking to that gamer friend of his. The one who lived somewhere in Canada.
Tearing my gaze away from his door, I headed into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge.
The only things in it were a carton of milk and an apple.
Frowning, I flipped on the light and opened the cupboards.
All I found was a giant tin of instant coffee, some sugar, a big bag of pasta, a multipack of ramen, and a few cans of beans.
That was it.
I had no idea how much money Mom and Ken were giving him for food, but Jules was one of the most responsible people I’d ever met. He was the type to spend two days comparing prices and features online before buying anything. He wasn’t an impulse spender, so if he didn’t have enough food, then that was on them, not him.
Why did I care if he had enough to eat? His grocery budget wasn’t my concern. Yet I did care.
I didn’t like the idea of him going hungry.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, I put my bag of takeout on the counter and ripped it open. I pulled out the container of crab rangoon, which I knew was Jules’s favorite, and flipped the lid. From the dozen I’d bought, I took two and put the container into the fridge.
Shoving one of the rangoons in my mouth, I grabbed a bowl and a set of cutlery, then went to the kitchen table, flicking the living room light on as I did.
A few minutes after I’d dumped my meal into the bowl, Jules’s door opened.
“What’s that?” he asked timidly, but he didn’t come out of his room.