Come to Me Quietly(100)

Gabe shifted in clear discomfort.

That’s right, f*cker, you are not welcome here.

Aly seemed to hesitate, glancing at us over her shoulder, before she spoke. “Yeah, sure, of course,” she rambled, lifting her hand to point down the hall. “We can go in my room.”



Okay, that sounded like a really f*cking bad idea.

I looked over at Christopher for backup, but he’d just turned around and plopped his lazy ass back on the couch with a resigned sigh.

Aly headed toward her room. Dickhead kept two steps behind her wearing that same smug smile on his pompous face that I would be all too happy to erase for him.

Neither of them said anything before Aly snapped her door shut behind them.

Shit. I stood in front of the couch, shifting my feet, still on edge. How the f*ck was I supposed to just sit here and not do anything while he had Aly behind closed doors?

“I don’t know what she sees in that guy. Dude is a complete douche bag,” Christopher said as he mindlessly flipped through stations on the TV.

“Maybe we should go in there and check on her or something?”



“They’ve been in there for five seconds, Jared. I hardly think that warrants checking on.”



“I don’t like it. That guy’s an *.”



Incredulous, Christopher chuckled. “You think I like it? You know I can’t stand the thought of her with some guy, but she’s been seeing him for, like, six months or something… at least he’s been hanging around that long. And it’s not like she’s fifteen. I can’t tell her she’s not allowed to have guys over.”



So it was fine for Dickhead to be in her room but not me?

I wanted to laugh at myself. As if I didn’t know the answer to that question? I’d been in jail, an addict, and Gabe was the f*cking pretty boy college student.

But I hated it, knowing he was in there with her, hated that I didn’t know what was being said or what was being done.

Forcing myself to sit, I focused my eyes on the TV and my ear on her room, hoping that I could at least keep myself planted on the couch and not bolt for her door.

I mean, I trusted Aly with everything, even when I had nothing to give. I’d let her touch me, allowed her fingertips to memorize my sins, let her ask and dig and suggest f*cking impossible things like reconciling with my dad.

We’d never talked about what this meant, these nights that were only temporary. But I’d always imagined they counted. That in them we were something. I couldn’t begin to imagine being with another girl while I was with Aly. Not a f*cking chance. I only wanted her. I guess I’d just assumed the same for her, and she’d have cut this * off the second she’d come to me, the moment she had stripped me bare when she’d offered herself to me.

Anxiety gripped me by the throat.

No sound could be heard from her room, something about this apartment that I normally viewed as an asset, but right then detested. Gabe with her in there was enough to drive me mad, enough to chase every rational thought from my already f*cked-up mind.

All this time she’d remained innocent. Pure. I couldn’t stomach the thought of her with someone else. Of someone taking her, touching her and loving her and giving her everything I couldn’t, even though I knew that was exactly what she deserved. Exactly what she should have.

It only got worse as time passed. The unspent aggression I’d been slammed with earlier flared and surged, and I was f*cking bouncing in agitation, trying to sit still on the couch when all I wanted to do was bust down her door and toss his ass out of the apartment.