Wicked Restless (Harper Boys #2)(96)

There’s a sound in the hallway, and I watch for movement under the door, wondering if Andrew’s out there, if he’ll come inside to check on me. Several minutes pass, though, so I finally leave the bed and shuffle slowly around his room to his dresser, pulling a few drawers open until I find one with a pair of sweatpants inside. I pull them on, rolling the top twice to keep them up on my waist. It feels good to dress in his things; it feels…safe. The clothes in my bag feel stiff—I don’t want them.

I pause with my hand on his doorknob, closing my eyes and breathing in slowly as I twist and open his door out to the hallway. I see the bathroom across from me and wince at the thought of what Andrew did for me last night, what he could have seen. I know he didn’t look though. As dazed as I was, I know because I watched him. I scoot across the hall to pee, then wash my hands and shut the light off behind me as I slide slowly down the rest of the hallway to the sound of the television blaring. There’s a head leaning on the back of the sofa, and I recognize his roommate quickly, the crunch of the cereal as he scoops it from the bowl in his lap making me smile.

“Hi,” I squeak. He jumps slightly, craning his neck to look at me, then moving fast to place his bowl onto the coffee table in front of him as his long legs maneuver around furniture into the kitchen.

“Emma, yeah. Hi…uh…Drew…he’s…he’s not back yet. Shit, uhm…you want breakfast?” he says, stumbling about the kitchen, opening cabinets and searching for something for me to eat. I’m not hungry. My stomach still feels sick.

“I’m okay. Thank you,” I say.

He shuts all of the doors again, then leans against the counter, looking at me, his eyes scanning around the room.

“Can I get you something? I don’t know, blanket maybe? Or…do you want to watch TV?” He rushes back into the living room and starts picking things up, turning the volume down on the program he was watching and glancing up at me every so often. It’s sweet.

“Really, I’m okay. I…I was looking for Andrew,” I say, my eyes falling, embarrassed about why I’m here, that I need someone—that I need him. I know I shouldn’t be, but I feel so helpless.

“He’s at work,” he says.

“At…at that gym?” I ask, the thought of Andrew getting hit by someone squeezing my heart.

Trent chuckles lightly and looks at his feet, shaking his head. “No, his real job,” he says. “He’s at the elementary on Fourteenth. He’s probably coloring right now.”

My lips form a tight smile at the mental picture that paints.

“Coloring,” I repeat.

Trent nods and laughs again. “Yep, Harper’s one bad-ass colorer,” he says.

Looking down, I let my smile grow slightly bigger. My feet are bare, and the chill hits them. I wiggle my toes.

“You need some shoes?” Trent asks. I laugh once to myself then look up at him, holding my arms out to show off my Andrew wardrobe.

“Andrew packed my bag, but he didn’t include footwear,” I shrug. “Seems I need a little of everything.”

Trent nods, then holds up a finger and jogs back to his room. I wait in the middle of his living room, listening to the sounds of drawers sliding open and his closet door closing. He comes out with a pair of short socks and sport sandals.

“Here,” he says, motioning to the sofa. “Have a seat.”

I step around to the front, and he kneels in front of me, handing me the socks to put on. I slip them on quickly then put my feet on the floor so he can slide them into the sandals and adjust the Velcro so they don’t come loose.

“You’re like Prince Charming, only instead of a glass slipper, it’s an old Adidas sandal,” I laugh, holding my foot out and moving it to test to be sure the shoe doesn’t fall away. Trent laughs with me.

“I guess so,” he says. “Only, don’t tell Drew that. He’ll rip my head off if he hears you call me Prince Charming. That’s his job.”

I keep my eyes on him, and he glances up at me a few times, his lips in a tight smile, perhaps a little guilty for selling his friend’s feelings out to me. I’m glad he did, though. And he’s right—it is Andrew’s job.

I head down the hall for a quick glance in the bathroom mirror then walk to Andrew’s room to grab my broken purse and keys. Trent catches me before I leave completely, asking if I want a ride, but as much as I appreciate the gesture, I also want to go to Andrew alone. He seems okay with my “Thanks, but no thanks.”

I leave their apartment, looking like a member of the Tech hockey team. It’s still early, maybe not quite seven, and the traffic on the road is light. The fall weather is growing colder, and I notice my breath form a small cloud in front of me as I walk. I blow hard once just to test. I love it when the weather is like this.

I pass a few people walking their dogs, and I push my hair forward, wanting to hide the glaring bruise on my face. I don’t know what drove me to leave the safety of his apartment this morning, only that I had to see him. I have to thank him, and it doesn’t feel like it can wait. When I reach the school, I notice a few cars pull up to a main lot, parents stepping out and walking young kids up to a side building. I head to the open door, holding it as a woman walks out, her phone resting between her cheek and shoulder as she mouths thanks and passes me.