Page 107 of Jerk

BANG!

My eyes pop open to a loud noise.

Blinking, it takes a minute to figure out where I am.

An old gothic chandelier hangs above, the sunlight making it sparkle right into my eyes. My blurred gaze moves to the black velvet-draped window. The glass bar. The hockey accolades on the concrete walls.

Then it hits me, a rush flowing through me as my eyes widen.

I’m in Rye’s room.

Reaching my hand over, I expect to feel a warm, hard body. Instead, I touch soft, silk sheets. Looking over, the other side of the bed remains untouched. Sitting up, there’s no trace of him, and I know this wasn’t a dream.

Yesterday rushes back as a sinking feeling hits my chest. Flopping back on the large, soft mattress, I stupidly hoped he’d be here with me. He was my hero.

But that was yesterday.

After we all took a nap, we spent the day watching movies and recovering from SOL and the changes within our families.I meant to text Ember if I could crash. I don't even remember falling asleep, but here I am waking up in his bed. Without him.

“I’ll figure it out.” A voice comes from outside the bedroom doors. One that makes my tired insides flip.

Pushing back the sheets, I climb out of bed, Rye’s old shirt swallowing my frame. My feet hit the warm wooden floor before they patter towards the door.

“The best thing might be to leave,” he says, his voice flowing down the hall.

I follow it, passing large windows overlooking their massive yard. My feet move quicker, but his voice moves further, like he’s walking somewhere.

“What else am I supposed to do here?”

Following his voice brings me all the way down the grand stairs and through the foyer. My feet slow when I approach the kitchen, which looks more like a showroom. It's sleek with concrete features and sharp lines. There's hardly a cooking utensil in sight, save for the stove in the long concrete island.

A sharp pang rips through my chest when I see him standing in front of the fridge in a black silk robe. His back to me, he rummages through the shelves while his phone sits on the island.

I move closer to him as he keeps talking. “I’ll let you know what I decide,” he says, before he pulls the earbud out of his ear.

“You’re still going to leave?” I ask.

His body stills, his shoulder rising to his ears before he turns around and locks those deep, dark eyes on me. His eyes drag around my frame, landing on my lips before they meet my gaze again. He pauses like he’s unsure of what to say as my eyes wander his chiselled pecs and abs that peek out of his robe.

“Why do you walk like a ghost?" he asks.

That puts a smirk on my face. “Or a zombie.” I refer to the movie last night. The one where I found it impossible to focuson with him next to me. I was looking for a distraction, but all I could think about was what he risked for me. Now I’m reminded it didn’t come without a cost.

“Zombievampire,” he corrects with a smile. Seeing this softer side to Rye is weird, but part of me hopes it stays. “Speaking of zombies, you were out all night.”

My eyes move to the clock on the shiny gas stove as he turns towards the fridge. It’s already noon. “Did you sleep?”

He shakes his head, reaching for a bowl in one of the sleek, grey cupboards. “Couldn’t.”

“Is that because you’re planning to run away?”

“I don’t have a choice.” He places the bowl on the counter. “My father’s dead. The headlines are crazy. I’m still not on the team. Could be time for a fresh start.” He avoids my eyes as he cracks an egg into the bowl. “Omelette?”

“God, stop being such a little bitch boy.”

He hovers a cracked shell over the bowl. “Come again, Alfonso?”

Folding my arms, I stand my ground. “You’re a little bitch boy,” I repeat, this time slower so he catches every word. “You’re running away. What about Krystal?”