And if that isn’t the million-dollar question, I don’t know what is.
???
Breakfast isn’t as awkward as I expected it to be and Banks doesn’t mention what he saw in Sullivan’s room. Still, this feels anything but normal. Part of me is still wondering if this is real at all. How can we go from hating each other to enjoying breakfast after cuddling all night? Then something dawns on me. Did we ever really hate each other? Or were we just conditioned? Did we just hate the versions of each other our parents made us see?
Looking back on it I can’t really say I ever felt like I hated them myself, as in, they never did anything to hurt me directly. Everything I ever heard about the Bishops came from my father and now that I know my father lied to me I can’t help but wonder if he lied about other things too. My mother never spoke of them, but when she did it was with the same disdain my father had.
Thinking about my parents always leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I take a sip of coffee and try to wash down the unwanted memories. Instead of dwelling on the past I look over at the three men sitting at the table with me. I’ve never seen them so relaxed and carefree.
“I’ll be gone most of the day, but I’m sure Banks and Oliver can keep you busy,” Sullivan says, in between bites of his bagel.
“Where are you going?” I ask out of curiosity, only after the words leave my mouth do I realize how nosy I’m being. I internally curse at how ridiculous the whole thing sounds, Jesus, Harlow, he gave you an orgasm, not a wedding ring.
“Just have to deal with some stuff,” he looks over at me briefly, obviously not willing to share. I take the hint and don’t ask him to elaborate. It’s none of my business really.
He leaves right after finishing breakfast and I try to help Oliver and Banks clean up the kitchen, but Banks instructs me to stay seated which leaves me feeling weird and out of place.
“I should probably just go back to the dorms,” I announce, feeling as if I might be intruding or something. “You really don’t have to do this. You don’t have to take care of me, watch over me. I don’t need…”
“We already talked about this. You are staying here until we figure out who pushed you off the boat.” Oliver’s voice holds a finality to it, like what he says goes, and I know once again I’ve been shot down. I frown and cast my eyes to the floor, crossing my arms over my chest. I’m still wearing Sullivan’s shirt. No bra, of course, and his shorts, with, you guessed it, no panties.
Even with the clothing I have on I feel naked, and out of place.
“Why don’t we watch a movie or something?” Banks suggests, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “We can spend the rest of the day on the couch, maybe order some takeout, lay around and be lazy.”
“Actually, that does sound really nice,” I smile. “But, I need to at least call Shelby and let her know I’m okay. I know her, and by now she’s probably worried herself into a frenzy. She’ll be waiting around all day for me to call or come home.”
Banks claps his hands together, the sound echoing around the room loudly, “It’s decided then, lazy couch day it is. Here, you call Shelby,” he says, sliding his phone across the table towards me.
“I’m hopping in the shower.”
“And I’m going to pick a movie. Return to the living room in ten minutes,” Oliver demands, his gaze burning right through me. I can’t place the emotion I see there, but I can’t look away. It’s like he has be in a trance. He slips from the kitchen a moment later and I feel like I can finally breathe.
What the hell was that? Whatever it was it was intense. With the phone in hand I dial one of the few numbers I know by heart.
Shelby answers on the second ring with a dramatic gasp, “Hello?”
“Hi, it’s me. Just calling to say I’m alive.”
“God, Harlow, I’ve been worried sick about you. I don’t think you staying there is safe. I feel like a shitty friend to have let this happen. I should have called the police instead. God, please tell me they haven’t hurt you. I swear I’ll murder them. I know how to hide a body.”
“What? No! Stop, Shelby. I’m fine.” I assure her, but I can tell from the heavy breathing she’s doing through the phone that she’s on the verge of a meltdown.
“You almost died, Harlow. Do you have any idea what it felt like to see them pull you from the water like that? You do know you weren’t breathing when they pulled you out, right?” For a moment I don’t say anything. That explains the pain in my chest, I guess. Someone must have done CPR on me. I lick my lips, preparing myself to say something, to reassure her that I’m okay, but the words won’t come. I didn’t know that, and honestly, I’m not sure I wanted to know that. I don’t want to be reminded of how close I was to never waking up, to never seeing Shelby, or the guys, again. Swallowing down the fear, and sadness bubbling up inside me I force myself to speak.