“Good night!” I reply, but before I can finish, he’s already out the door.
My head is spinning as I stand there trying to process my night. More happened to me in this one night I think than has happened to me in my entire life, and I can’t even imagine what I’m in for tomorrow.
I wakeup to the sound of someone moving around upstairs.
Colt!
Immediately panicked, I rush to the bathroom, wet my fingers, run them through my hands, and splash some water over my face, doing my best to look at least semi-presentable. After all, the last thing I need is for him to see me in the morning, wonder what the hell he did last night, and send me packing.
I’m still throwing on some real-life clothes as I hear the footsteps coming down the stairs. I know he’s seen me wearing barely anything, but still, we’re not at the club any longer. I’m barely getting my shirt on when the door opens. But it’s not Colt who walks in.
“D-Damien!”
“Don’t worry, I won’t be staying long,” he grunts. “Colt asked me to come by and drop some things off for him, but I had to see this for myself.”
His eyes move up and down me like rifle scopes. I resist the urge to run and hide.
“See…what for yourself?”
When I first ran into him yesterday, I got the vibe that he couldn’t care less about me. But now, I’m getting the vibe like he’s intrigued by me…but in a not so nice way.
“Colt has never done this sort of thing before, you know?”
“This…sort of thing?” Confusion brews within me. I hope it isn’t showing on my face as well.
“You know what I’m talking about.” Damien smirks, sort of chuckling to himself. He glances around and sees my bag lying unpacked at the foot of the bed. “Haven’t even unpacked yet, huh?”
“Yeah, I…I was tired last night—”
“Well, I gotta go,” Damien interrupts. “I’ll uh…I’ll see ya.”
“Okay!” I reply as cheerfully as possible. “See ya!”
Once he’s gone, I do take a few minutes to unpack my things and place them in the drawers of the dresser. It’s hard to explain the feelings that come over me once my bag is empty. I’ve never lived anywhere before besides with my father, and living with him always felt like being in prison. Even though I barely know Colt, and this room really isn’t much, I’m already feeling at home.
I quickly shower and use a towel he’s provided to dry off, then slip into some fresh, clean clothes. I just can’t believe how much this man has already done for me—a man I just met last night—and I’ve done nothing in return. So with an idea in my mind, I head upstairs and look around a bit.
As I suspected, the interior of Colt’s house is a typical man’s home—sparsely decorated and looks like it hasn’t been cleaned up in at least a week. So I get to work.
Random magazines are thrown about and need to be sorted and stacked, there are empty chip bags that need to be thrown away and a floor that desperately needs sweeping. There are also clothes, which I assume are dirty, which I bundle up into a pile and am about to carry into his bedroom to toss into the hamper when I hear the sound of the front door opening.
I turn and look just in time to see Colt himself step through the door. Panic floods through my bones.
“Not gonna donate those, are you?”
“N-no!” I stammer. “I was just…going to put them in the hamper in your room!”
Colt’s face is so rugged and unreadable that it’s impossible to judge his reaction. The scar on his face doesn’t help either. For a second, it’s like he’s going to grab me by the arm and throw me out, face first down the front steps.
But slowly, his lips twist up on either side.
“Don’t look so afraid, Tilly.” His smile broadens. “You look like you’re afraid I’m going to skin you alive or something.”
“Yeah, I…” My voice trails off.
“What?” Colt asks.
“Nothing.” I shake my head.