He kept a firm grip on my body, letting my weight rest on his forearms. “You okay?”
“Mhmm,” I lied. To be honest, the close proximity was getting to me. More than once, I’d caught myself leaning into him, lulled into a deeper level of intoxication. That clean, heady scent of his was stripping me of my inhibitions, one by one. I couldn’t help it.
By the time we reached the entrance, I was lost in a warm, comfy daze. My breasts were pressed against his chest, and I felt every breath that rose and fell between us. It was the most intimate I’d been with anyone in a year, let alone a man I hardly knew—why wasn’t I freaking out?
He shifted me toward him, and I felt my southernmost border clench. “What are you doing?” The rough wool of his collar brushed against my cheek, and I shivered. “I’m serious, Wallace. I can walk now.”
“Uh huh.” He ignored me, swiping his card through the scanner. The red light blinked green, and I heard a click as the doors unlocked. He jerked the handle and caught the door with his back, taking the brunt of the impact. “Close your eyes.”
Nervous about what repercussions might lay ahead, I complied without question. It was one thing to trust the man when I could see everything around us, but blind faith was a whole other story. I clung to his neck like a second skin.
“She’s not feeling well,” I heard him say. It felt like he held his arm up, probably to show his card.
“You’re not tryin’ to pull any funny business, are ya, son?” a gruff voice questioned, somewhere off to the left. “You didn’t slip her a mickey, did ya?”
If he did, was I to believe my fate rested in the hands of some goon at the front desk? I was never going to drink again. Ever.
Wallace stiffened like he was thrown off by the suggestion. “Of course not.”
Oh, fine. I’ll help. “Ohh…” I groaned, clutching at the material of his sleeve. I didn’t trust myself to say anything more than that. I wasn’t entirely faking the nausea.
“Does the little lady have an ID?”
A moment ticked by in silence.
“Pocket,” I whispered, ducking my head down.
His fingertips barely brushed against my hip as he tugged on the lanyard, freeing the key ring that held my student identification. I heard the keys jingle and prayed he wouldn’t gawk at the rape whistle.
It sounded like a few papers were shuffled around before the guard spoke again. “Well, checks out with me. Go ahead, and take good care of her.”
Wallace swallowed hard. “I will.”
And that was all I heard. The next thing I knew, someone was nudging me awake. “Rena…”
I hadn’t even realized I’d nodded off. I felt so safe and warm, snuggled up in…
In…
Where was I again? I blinked, and a pair of concerned blue eyes swam into focus. “Wallace?”
“Don’t you remember?” His brows met and I realized, for the first time, that he looked a hell of a lot meaner than he really was.
“I, uh…” I blinked and looked around. It took me less than three seconds to realize I had no idea where I was floating. Wait. Floating? We were touching. “My leg hurts.”
“Rena.”
When I looked up, I realized how close his face was to mine—how his eyes exuded an intensity that made me squirm. “What?”
“I lost you for a minute there.”
I flinched and hastily searched my mind. What night was it? Saturday? Okay, I’d gone somewhere with Gabby. I knit my brows together, trying to muster a clear image. Oh. We’d gone to see Maverick.
Just like that, the rest of the night’s events sped past, locked on fast forward. The drinking, the singing, the abandonment, the wandering, the falling, the crying…
“Rena.”
I didn’t know what to say. He probably thought I was going to pass out again. Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea. Maybe I could roll my eyes back and go limp or something. I wouldn’t have to deal with this.
“I’m going to put you down now, okay?” His gaze bored into mine, trying to force the understanding. “Do you think you can stand?”
I nodded, hoping to avoid another embarrassing outburst.
He set me down with surprising gentleness, averting his eyes as I slipped my hands from around his neck.
My fingertips trailed through the beads of moisture that clung to his lapel, and reluctantly, I let my hands fall to my sides. “Thanks.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He let out a slow breath as he straightened, shrugged out of his damp coat, and kicked his boots off at the door. “You’re soaked, aren’t you?”
I hadn’t really noticed it until then, but he was right. I guess I’d assumed the reason I couldn’t feel my butt was because it was frozen. My memory was a little sketchy, but I distinctly remembered falling into a slushy mix of snow and ice. No wonder I was shivering. “Yeah. I think I fell.”
“Well, you probably shouldn’t stay in those clothes. I don’t want someone else to die in my room, hypothermic or otherwise.”
I nearly got whiplash, jerking my head back to stare at him. He was—
Kidding. He grinned, flashing a dazzling white smile in the dim lighting. “Relax.”
My knees nearly buckled as he crossed the room and began to search through the contents of his dresser.
“Easy for you to say,” I muttered, taking the opportunity to get a good look at my surroundings.
Just as I’d heard, he lived alone. There was only one bed, with a navy blue comforter strewn halfway off the mattress and a pillow thrown beside it. His phone was off the hook, dangling over the edge of his desk, and his trash bin was lying on its side. Had someone tossed the place or was he really that messy?
“I know they won’t fit, but they’re all I’ve got.” He turned around, looking uncharacteristically sheepish as he held up a bundle of clothing. “You can take a shower, if you want. It’s not dirty or anything. I cleaned it yesterday.”
I froze like a deer in headlights.
“O-Oh.” He was trying to be nice. Say something. Say something now. “You clean the shower?” Not that.
He nodded, leaning back against the dresser. “Yeah, I think we’re on a rotation now. We haven’t really discussed it, so I just clean on the weekends.”
I frowned and bent to unzip my boots, setting them next to his. “Aiden and Josh don’t talk to you much, do they?”
“No.”
Something clenched in my chest. “I, uh, wouldn’t take it personally, you know.” I carefully placed one foot in front of the other, moving across the room—one stumble and he’d probably take me to the shower himself.
The image presented itself in my mind, and I sucked in a deep breath, praying my face hadn’t turned beet red. “T-They’re just shy.”
“You think?”
Looking up at him, I couldn’t bring myself to sugarcoat the answer. “No.” The word echoed around the empty room as I took the clothes from him. “But they’re pussies, so you shouldn’t care what they think.”
His lips pulled back. “Why do you say that?”
I shrugged, backing toward the bathroom door. “Because they’re afraid.”
“And you’re not?”
I stopped and thought about it, feeling a ghost of a smile trace my lips.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” I took another step back, ready to part on those cool-sounding words, and ran smack into the door. Butterflies flitted about my stomach as I groped for the handle. “I-I’ll be back,” I muttered, slipping into the other room before he could reply.
Slick.
I hurried through the shower, lingering just long enough to let the hot water permeate my dulled senses. There wasn’t time to relax. At any moment, Wallace could’ve burst through that door, ripped the shower curtain open, and taken me in all of my soaking glory. No one would’ve ever known. I replayed the scenario several times in my mind, justifying it as a valid concern, but each time it became more and more like fantasy. I blamed the alco
hol.
Even after I toweled off, the masculine scent of his body wash continued to follow me like a crisp, aromatic cloud; it was all I could do to keep from moaning each time I breathed it in. I blamed the alcohol for that, too—even though it’d mostly worn off. The only thing left was fatigue, and that wasn’t something I could wash away.
I took a deep breath and cast one last glance in the mirror. The white t-shirt he’d leant me hung shapelessly from my shoulders, but I didn’t mind. My bra hadn’t had a chance to dry yet, and I wasn’t about to hold a wet t-shirt contest in the middle of January. Or at all.
His sweatpants hung low on my hips and the bottoms were rolled in thick, overdone cuffs. I pulled a pair of socks up around my ankles and shook my head. Of all the times to look like a bum…
My hair was wet, and all of my makeup had washed off. It shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did. Wallace was a reasonably attractive guy—and by reasonably attractive, I mean gorgeous in the most infuriating way possible. It was driving me crazy.
Crazy…
The word echoed in my mind as I gathered everything up. Maybe this was my opportunity to settle the madman rumors once and for all. Being partially responsible, wasn’t it my duty to set things straight? It was obvious they bothered him.
I’d just have to gauge his mood before I broached the subject. If he gave any sign of losing his cool, I’d run out. It wasn’t like I didn’t live in the same building. If push came to shove, I’d sprint downstairs and kick the naked people out of my room.
I shook my head and pushed the door open. “Back.”
Wallace was lying on his bed, reading a magazine with one knee bent and the other draped over the side. He’d changed into clean clothes while I was gone. Black athletic pants stretched the long length of his legs, and he’d donned a white t-shirt identical to my own. I suspected the coverage was for my benefit.
“Feel better?”
I nodded, fighting a grin at the casualness he’d adopted, now that we were behind closed doors. “Thanks.” I shifted the damp bundle in my arms. “So, where should I put these? I don’t want to get anything wet.”
He tossed the magazine aside and stood up. “You can just dump it all in the hamper. I’ll throw your clothes in with mine this week.”
“Oh, um…” I blanched at the thought of him doing my laundry. Really, it was a stupid thing to worry about. It wasn’t like I had delicates in there. Think, think. “Why don’t you give me a call when you’re going to do laundry?” I dropped the towel and clothes into the hamper. “I’ll meet you down there, and we can just trade then, if you don’t mind.”
“Call you?”
“I-If you want to,” I stammered. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I’ll just…” I scanned the room and spotted a stack of bright green Post-It notes on his desk. Okay, enough with the docile act. I threw my coat on the floor, grabbed a pen, and jotted ten digits on the top square. “That’s my number, if you need it.”
He blinked for a moment, before snapping out of it. “Uh, yeah. That’s cool.”
“Cool,” I echoed, toying with the wet strands of hair that brushed my shoulders.
“Want something to drink?” he asked.
I groaned, pressing my palms to my forehead.
“What?”
“Nothing. Sorry.” I shook my head. “That was the last thing I heard before I found myself on the floor, singing AC/DC to my cup.”
He bent at the refrigerator and produced a clear, plastic bottle. “Water it is, then.” With quick strides, he crossed the room and twisted the cap. “AC/DC, huh?”
“Thanks.” I felt myself blush again as I took the dented bottle. Must’ve been on sale. “Yeah.”
“You’re a tough one to figure out,” he mused, tilting his chin.
“Is that a bad thing?” I took a long swig of water, thankful that I’d peed twice before coming out of the bathroom.
“Not if you ask me.” He walked over and sat on the floor with his back to the bed frame. “You can sit wherever. I know this is weird.”
“It’s not weird,” I said in a rush, hesitating to add, “Okay, maybe just a little.”
Giving the room another once-over, I opted to join him on the floor with my back against the wall. The trash bin had been righted, and the phone was back on its cradle.
“You cleaned up.” I’d intended it as a question, but it came out as a bland statement—a statement followed by a yawn.
He rubbed the back of his neck and gave an awkward grin. “You noticed, huh?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to insinuate it was messy or anything.” I would’ve been more adamant about the apology, had I not been too tired to care. The room was comfortable, and my Spidey senses weren’t tingling with danger. I just wanted to relax.
“No, I should’ve cleaned up before I left.” He looked at the floor and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Look, I’m sorry about last night.”
“Huh?” Where did that come from?
“You just caught me at a bad time,” he continued, lifting his gaze to mine. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
I pulled on the hem of my t-shirt. This was it. My golden opportunity. “Is it always…?” My voice rang out in the silent room, and I lowered it between us. “Is it always bad around that time?”
Please, please tell me he has recollection of these episodes. I hadn’t even considered the alternative. What if he had dissociative identities or something?
His face was grim. “You noticed that, huh?” He blew out a sigh and looked up at the ceiling. “Look, I know you guys think I’m crazy and all, but it’s not like that.”
I bristled, nerves on edge, ready to make a dash for the door. “We don’t think you’re—”
He looked me straight in the eyes, and I found myself unable to continue. The poor guy seemed so resigned to the notion. How could he live like that? The guilt crept back in, and I found myself hugging my knees. “Sorry.”
“Rena, I’m not crazy,” he said. “I know you guys hear all kinds of things during my clusters.”
“Your what?”
“Cluster headaches.” He pointed to his left eye, as if that suddenly explained things.
I had no idea what he was talking about. “Like migraines?”
His features darkened, and I knew I’d asked the wrong thing. “Not even close.”
“Oh.”
“It’s around the same time every night,” he began, leaning back on the bed. “It’s like someone takes a hot poker, straight out of the fire, and spears the whole thing through my eye socket.”
“That’s horrible.” I couldn’t hide my grimace as I imagined the scenario. “Can you take medicine or something?”
He smiled humorlessly. “I can, not that it makes much difference. Doctors still don’t know much about them, so they set me up with oxygen, injections, and a cocktail of pills I can’t even pronounce. It’s a trial and error deal.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Haven’t found anything that’s really effective yet.”
I’d never been much of a nurturer, but at that moment, I felt it start to bloom in my chest. “Wallace, I…we had no idea.”
He waved me off. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t tell you so you would feel sorry for me.” The corners of his mouth lifted. “I told you so everyone could stop freaking out about it.”
I gaped at him. “You knew.”
“Of course I knew. You think I don’t notice that people around here won’t make eye contact with me? That they edge around me in the elevator?” He shook his head, a little too blasé about the whole thing. “I’m not stupid.”
“I’m so sorry.” The guilt felt like a noose, constricting my airways. If I’d recognized him, if I’d known who he was, I would’ve acted the same way when we met. I would’ve scorned him like everyone else.
“I told you I didn’t sa—”
“And I told you I’m sorry!” Warmth pricked behind my eyes as tears formed and threatened to fa
ll. “The way people treat you…some of that’s my fault.” I balled my fists and pressed my lips together. “I told stories like everyone else. I-I just…I don’t know how to fix it.”
He stared at me for a moment without saying anything.
I swallowed and looked away. “So, the clusters are why you’re always…?”
“Screaming?” he offered in a dry voice. “Growling? Banging my head on the floor? Drilling myself in the face with anything I can get my hands on? Yeah, pretty much.”
“That bad?” My stomach was in knots. It had to affect him way more than he was letting on—it had to—but what could I say? Sympathy felt so patronizing. “That really, really sucks.”
“Yeah, well, it happens.”
I leaned back against the wall. “I guess.” An awkward silence settled between us—one I felt compelled to fill. “I, uh, don’t really drink much, you know.”
“I could tell.”
“No, really.” I frowned at the sarcasm. “I can’t even tell you the last time I was that tipsy.”
He shook his head. “No, I mean, I could tell. You’re little anyway. It probably doesn’t take much.”
Ruffle my feathers, why don’t you. I huffed. “Well, I’m not that much of a lightweight.”
“I bet.”
I sat up a little straighter. “Hey, what happened to the mild-mannered guy I met a week ago?”
His lips curved into slow grin. “Maybe you’re getting to know him.”
Chapter Ten
I woke up to blue numbers glowing in the distance. Four o’clock. “Mmmph…” I rolled over and clutched at the comforter, burying my face in the pillow. It smelled so good; I could’ve stayed there forever.
Wait.
I cracked one eye open. This wasn’t my bed. I raised my head and squinted around. This wasn’t my room, either.
The night’s details slipped back into place as I sat up. Wallace and I had talked until, well, I couldn’t remember. I must’ve nodded off in the middle. Again.
Strength (Mark of Nexus #1) Page 6