Page 56 of No Mistakes

I need noise. A distraction, something that will silence my mind, and this is right up that street.

I kick off my shoes and collapse onto the bed with a bag of chips and a can of Coke. My shirt rides up as I get comfy, as well as my shorts, but I don’t care. My bra’s off, my hair’s in a bun, and for the first time in a week, I let myself go slack.

The action on the screen is loud and bloody. I watch without really seeing. My mind drifting to Mandy, Chicago, to the goddamn flash drive that contains the darkest subjects, and like always, him.

Italwaysends up finding its way back to him.

I want to forgive him, to believe all the words he’s telling me, but the broken girl inside of me screams to run away every time he is near.

That moment in the gas station bathroom nearly broke me. I was seconds away from caving in and forgiving him for the mistakes we made during our time together.

I fell for him fast,waytoo fucking fast.

Maybe it was the way he looked at me, or the way he seemed like he cared, but even with all the fucked up things, I always felt safe when he was around. Something I haven’t felt since my parents died. He gave me that feeling of home, like I could talk to him for hours without a care in the world. I just wish we had more time in different circumstances.

My hand pauses halfway to my mouth when the knock comes.

Three, slow, measured knocks.

I know straight away it’s not Mandy, because she would let herself in.

I sit up, my heart already racing. I wipe my fingers on my bed and move to the door, looking through the peephole.

Jesus Christ, he’s like the fucking Bloody Mary, appearing from the darkness.

He stands there in the dim glow of the overhead light like something carved from stone and regret. Leaning an arm against the doorway. He’s still wearing the same clothes from earlier today, the black tee stretching against his muscles, and I swear, if it weren’t for the door holding me up, I would be a puddle on the floor just from the sight of him.

He looks towards the peephole, as if he can see straight through it.

“Eva.” His voice is low. Muffled through the door. “Open up.”

I push my head against the door, asking God, ‘Why me? Why is italwaysme?’

I open the door, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he stays leaning against the door frame like a statue of muscles, tattoos, and that annoyingly handsome face, while his eyes burn into mine like I’ve ruined him.

“What?” I ask flatly, arms crossed over my chest.

“Come on, Eva… You gonna make me beg, baby?”

I shrug, doing my best to hide the fact that the word ‘baby’ has me melting internally. “You could try. Might be fun to watch.”

His jaw flexes, and something in his eyes flickers, like I just flipped a switch. But he doesn’t fire back with some sharp, asshole remark. Doesn’t play the villain, he’s so good at. He just… softens.

“I just wanted to see you.”

“Mission accomplished, goodnight,” I say bluntly, shifting my weight.

He pushes off the doorframe with a sigh that sounds like it hurts, catching the door as I try to shut it. “I know I’m the last person you want to see right now, but-fuck, Eva, I needed to know you were okay.”

“You could’ve texted.”

“Would you have answered?”

He’s got me there. I exhale, taking a step back to make room for him to pass. He hesitates, then walks in like he’s stepping into a dream he knows he’ll wake from. He looks around the shitty little room, examining the bag of chips on the bed, the empty can of Coke on the side table, and the scene that is currently playing on the TV.

“Nice place,” he mutters. “Very… apocalypse-chic”

“You would know,” I say, slamming the door shut.