Page 41 of Rayne
Jett's smile fades slightly. "It's you. Always with a back-up plan. Plus it was labeled. Like everything else in this house… By the way, I like what you've done with the place."
I open my mouth to speak but he springs up from the bed, startling me. He strolls over, standing in front of me.
"Let me guess—going to call the cops?"
My eyes narrow angrily. "I should. This is breaking and entering."
"I do love a good B&E," he grins. "Bacon and eggs, as well. But in this case, surprising you. God, do you have any idea how you sound while you sleep?"
I flush at his words. "What does that mean?"
Jett brushes some of my hair off my face. "You moan so sweetly in your sleep. The moment I touched you, you sang so beautifully."
Slapping his hand away, I take a step back. "I do not moan."
"Oh, but you do," he laughs. "Anyway, I heard you were a bit jealous."
His eyes light up excitedly and I roll my eyes.
"I wasn't jealous. Get your facts straight. Whatever bullshit Hawk is dribbling needs some work."
Jett laughs again, sitting on the edge of the bed. He watches me carefully as I stand awkwardly in place, wondering what to do.
"Is that so? I'll be sure to pass on the message. He sends his best."
"Well, send my worst," I scoff, turning to head to the bathroom. "You can see yourself out since you know where the door is."
Turning on the shower faucet, I test the water temperature, waiting for the hot water to come through. Removing my clothes, I take a quick shower, washing myself harshly.
When I emerge from the bathroom, Jett is no longer on the bed. I wearily check the apartment but there's no sight of him. The door is closed and locked, and for a moment, I have to convince myself that I'm not losing my mind and hallucinating. Except I can still smell the faint lingering scent of his cologne in my bedroom.
Heading back to the bedroom, I stare at my messy bed for a few seconds, before ripping all the bedsheets off. I chuck them in the corner of the room, fetching clean sheets from my closet.
After I've made the bed, I grab some perfume, spraying everywhere to eliminate the traces of him that still linger, haunting me.
As I climb back into bed, I realize I'm wide awake again. Sighing, I know I wouldn't be able to sleep even if I was tired. He's got me all messed up and I hate him for that.
Flicking the television on, I curl up in bed, but I can't pay attention to anything. All I can think about is him. He's everywhere… and nowhere. And I can't keep up.
It's exhausting, draining… and partially liberating.
I make a mental note to call a therapist on Monday, preferably one that deals in family disputes. Hell, maybe I should just skip that and go straight to the asylum instead. I think I'm too far gone for therapy.
Finally, at some stage as early dawn light breaks over Phoenix, I fall asleep with the remote in my hand, but it's not the same peaceful sleep as before. It's tainted with hatred and pleasure, and my body still reacts, aching for Jett.
"How was Florida?" I ask Mom as I arrive for our usual Saturday dinner. "You'll have to tell me all about it."
I had half a mind to bail, but that would lead to questions. And judging by my breakdown when Margot cornered me, I can't risk that happening. I'm fairly confident I wouldn't blurt it out to my parents, but the last thing I need is for another welfare check. I wouldn't put it past my dad to turn up to check on me, and I'm convinced I can still smell Jett in my apartment. I'm terrified that Dad will too and that will lead to many questions I can't answer.
"It was beautiful," she says, puttering around the kitchen. "Lovely weather. And I made sure to stay away from any bodies of water."
"Smart choice," I laugh, giving her a hand as she rolls some pasta.
Mom looks over at me suspiciously, her hands kneading the dough. "How was your week? Has work been overwhelming again?"
"Why do you say that?" I ask casually.
She stops, turning to me. "The plants were a little dry. It's not like you to leave them like that."
