Page 44 of Dear Future Husband (The Dearly Written #1)

Maybelle

I wanted to be late. I so badly wanted to go against Trey’s reminder to not be tardy to our walk and tutoring session. Just out of spite, but there I was. Up and sneaking out of my apartment to find a grinning Trey waiting outside my door.

“Jerk,” was my only remark as I brushed past him to the stairs and our regular walking path, barely lit by the dim morning.

Trey swiftly caught up, keeping pace right next to me, just as he always did. “Still bitter about last night, then?”

Snorting, I shot him a withering look, but still that grin shined on. “Can we not talk and get this over with?” I pleaded, and Trey—to my surprise and maybe dismay—nodded and strolled on.

Oh . Somehow, I felt like that completely backfired on me.

No . I wanted this, the quiet. For Trey to let me be.

I wanted this.

The trek felt extremely long with the still tension of last night’s events hanging heavy between us.

Fine. I could admit to myself…

I liked when Trey fought me—for me.

Fought to talk to me, tease me, spend time with me, and enrage me in the most exhilarating ways. The fact that he wasn’t this morning, after what happened last night, had my heart in the pits of my stomach.

It shouldn’t.

We continued on, still silent.

What I appreciated about me and Trey was the silence between us wasn’t smothering.

It was relieving. Even amidst the leftover uncomfortable stress from the conversation the night prior.

I could just be in the company of his quiet presence.

Let my mind whir with thoughts or go still with content.

It was a freeing sense I only had the pleasure of feeling with him.

I felt a little more clearheaded as we neared the end of the walk. I peered over at him, ready to talk about last night, but he looked—well, he looked like crap.

Correction—it wasn’t possible for Trey to ever truly look bad, but with the way his eyes drooped, his skin paled with a twinge of green—

“Are you okay?”

He dragged his eyes to me. Licking his lips with a hard swallow, he nodded, once. When we reached my apartment door, he huffed, “See you in a bit.”

I wanted to stop him. Argue that maybe we should postpone today’s tutoring and get some obviously needed rest, but Trey was hustling. So instead of hollering down the hall at him and risk aggravating my neighbors, I went inside to shower.

About a half hour later, I was walking to Trey’s apartment.

I loved my solo walks. Almost as much as I loved the walks with Trey, but there was something about the walk alone that had me checking over my shoulder.

I didn’t know why, I just felt—watched. Even on my short treks to Trey’s apartment from mine, I never quite felt alone, and it was an unnerving thought.

Ignoring my very paranoid feelings, I made my way into the football den. At the kitchen table sat Larson and Williams playing… Monopoly.

“Ah, pay up, Williams. That would be my property you landed on,” Larson said, holding his palm out to accept his payment owed.

“I’m so done with this game. This shit is rigged,” Williams griped but proceeded to pay up.

The door snapped shut behind me, alerting the two boys to my arrival.

“Hey, May, you want in? We could start over so you can join,” Larson offered, but Williams stood from his stool.

“You two have fun. I’m out.”

I approached the counter, peering over their board. “Thanks, but maybe some other time. I’m here for tutoring.”

Williams stretched out his long wingspan as he spoke through a taut yawn, “That’s right. It’s Sunday, huh?”

I nodded.

“Turner should be chilling in his room if you want to head on back there—or you could ditch the loser and hang out with us. The choice is yours, but there’s an obvious right answer.” Larson’s sideways smile revealed one carefree dimple as he winked.

I patted him on the shoulder before spinning for the hall. “Thanks, but no thanks. My math grade is in need of too much help for me to skip even one tutoring sesh.”

I made the descent towards Trey’s room, with Larson’s half-hearted “boos” rolling down after me. When I reached the room, the door was slightly ajar. I couldn’t help but sneak a peek through the crack.

I could spy half the dresser along the right-side wall and most of the bed that was snug in the middle of the room, but no Trey. Then I noticed his bathroom door. It was closed but light scraped out from underneath.

I slipped inside the room, letting the door click shut with my entrance.

Trey had to be in the bathroom because his room held no trace of him. Except his shoes and shirt he’d worn that morning were in a pile next to his dresser.

I dropped the backpack I had slung over one shoulder full of class supplies onto the bed.

“Trey?” I called out, more to let him know I was there than in search of him.

I heard rustling in the bathroom and then a labored groan. “Yeah?”

Curiously, I tiptoed up to the door. “It’s me—Are you still up for tutoring?”

“Oh—uh, yeah. Sorry, I lost track of the time. Just give me a minute, please.”

Perfect, because there was something I’d been dying to do since the first time I saw his room. Some snooping.

I checked out the closet on the left side wall first.

Lots of dark colored athletic clothes, of course.

A couple hoodies and jeans, but what caught my attention most was a slick, black suit, white button up and black tie.

The ensemble sparked too many tantalizing imaginations of a dapper Trey picking me up for a magical date to the opera or the ballet.

That’s enough, Maybelle .

Everything was hung up neatly, and his shoes were organized in a line on the floor. Each pair matched up and positioned together.

He seemed to have everything planned. Every innate part of his life efficiently placed in constructed structure.

Trey thrived on order. A fact I was well aware of since I first met him.

But what had me smiling was that I knew I was anything but order.

I was a chaotic mess and yet, Trey and I seemed to work so well together…

Moving on.

There wasn’t a lot of storage space in the room, but there was one last place I hadn’t pillaged yet. My eyes fell onto the short nightstand sitting beside the bed. I knelt before it. As my fingertips skimmed the brass knob of the drawer, a gut-wrenching heave sounded from Trey’s bathroom.

Startled, I shot to my feet, forgetting about the unsearched dresser entirely as I pushed my ear to the door. “Trey? Are you alright? What was that?”

A moment passed and then another hurl tore open the quiet air on the other side. I didn’t wait for his response; I opened the door.

He was kneeling in front of the toilet, forearms propped on the bowl as he retched.

Oh, no … The roiling in my stomach forced me back for a moment to inhale the fresh air of his room before returning to the bathroom.

I would not pity puke; I would not pity puke.

I crouched next to Trey. He was shirtless. Sill in his black athletic shorts from earlier and trembling with a line of saliva trailing from his mouth to the bowl of the toilet.

“Trey…”

I brushed a hand against his scalding forehead. Waves of brown hair fell in heaps over his bloodshot eyes.

He straightened, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he inhaled an unsteady breath. “Sorry, May. Just give me a minute. I can be ready soon.”

I scoffed. “Absolutely not.”

I left his room and entered the primary space where Williams and Larson had returned to their game.

“Where’s your barf bowl?” I asked and, as I suspected, I didn’t need to explain myself. Williams pointed to a cupboard door. I opened it to find one large, stale, pea green plastic bowl.

The family barf bowl, everyone has one.

I snatched it and hastily returned to find Trey right where I left him. I fell back to my crouch beside him. “You got more in you, or can you stand?”

He looked at me then, red irritation in the whites of his eyes enhanced the vibrancy of the green. “May, I promise I’ll be fine. Please, go sit on my bed for a minute. I’m already feeling a little better. We can go over your homework and anything—”

I stopped him by placing a soothing hand on his cheek.

He leaned into my touch, his eyes fluttering closed.

What I would give to touch him like this all the time…

Stop it.

I stole my hand away, making him look at me again. “Let me take care of you, for once.”

Trey watched me, exhaustion drooping his face.

He opened his mouth, and I shut down his case before he could exhale. “Trey. Please. Let me do this.”

Finally, he slumped, which I considered as his surrender.

“Thank you. Now, let’s get you into the shower and get control of that temperature.”

He stood with me when I beckoned and followed me to the shower. When he shucked his shorts down his legs, I left the room, ignoring the pang of curiosity begging me to look.

While he showered, I tidied the bed, readying it with a cluster of pillows.

After which, I pulled out a pair of black sweatpants and an over-sized, old school pride tee from his dresser drawers.

I took the ensemble of clothes, including the underwear I snatched from the top drawer, and folded them into a neat stack.

“Trey?” I called with a few knocks against the ajar door.

He grunted.

I pushed the door open a fraction more, keeping my eyes on my toes. “I have some clothes for you to change into. Can I put them on the counter for you?”

“Yes. Please.”

Tentatively, I stepped in, placing the stack of loungewear onto the bathroom sink counter. I strained to keep my eyes glued to the ground, even as the shower shut off.

“I’ll just leave them right here,” I said, eyes still downturned. I nearly facepalmed myself because— duh —I literally just told him I was going to leave them there.

When the shower curtains screeched across the bar holding them aloft, the temptation to glance up, just once, was too strong. I needed to walk away, let the poor boy dress without me peeping in on him like a perv.