“There would be no use. When the weather gets like this, the creek near the highway always rises, overflowing onto the road. Even if we moved the limb and you were able to get through, you’d be stuck anyway. You can’t ride a bike through flooding like that.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”
Segan rolls his eyes before sputtering out, “Will you just get the fuck in here? I’m not going to have you leave here and get fucking stranded. I’m not that big of an asshole.”
“Okay…” I step inside the house, my stupid heart beating wildly in my chest at being here, especially after what just happened in the gym. It’s warm, and as I walk past him, it smells like he just got out of the shower. Glancing over at him, I notice his hair is damp too. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” he mutters, his body language telling me it very muchisa problem, though. “Why don’t you take a shower and get out of those wet ass clothes.”
“I don’t really have anything else to wear,” I murmur. “My workout clothes are wet in my backpack by now.”
He sighs again, like I’m a huge inconvenience. It’s comical, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stifle the laugh that wants to come out. “I’ll get you some of mine you can wear while I wash and dry yours.”
The shower in his guest bathroom is nice, the water pressure superb. I take an extra hot shower, the warmth of the water feeling incredible on my muscles after the workout and my failed attempt at moving the tree out of the way.
Turning the water off and stepping out, I dry myself with probably the plushiest towel I’ve ever used before slipping into the clothes Segan got for me. They smell just like him, and it’s unnerving. The sweats and t-shirt are a little on the tighter side, but they’ll work. I run my fingers through my hair, taming it as best as I can, before heading back out into the main part of the house.
This place is gorgeous. I wasn’t lying when I told him he’s done well for himself. I know he always thought he’d never amount to anything. It’s a special feeling to see how far he’s come, how much he’s thrived since leaving our hometown. He deserves it, all the success, all the happiness. He always has.
Standing barefoot in his kitchen, wearing a change of clothes, Segan glances up when he must hear my footsteps. He lifts the bottle of vodka in his hand. “Want a drink?”
Some alcohol to calm our nerves and hopefully dissipate some of the tension floating around probably isn’t a bad idea. I nod. “Sure, thanks.”
I scan the area while he fixes the drinks, my eyes finding the lit fireplace in the living room. He must’ve done that while I was in the shower.
“Here,” he murmurs, his presence much closer than I expected. He hands me a glass filled to the brim with some sort of a red drink. Knowing he used vodka, my money’s on this being a vodka cran. Taking a sip confirms as much.
“Thank you.”
Segan nods tersely before turning on his heel, walking into the living room. I follow. He takes a seat on the black leather love seat closest to the fireplace, and I choose the couch beside it. One look out the window lets me know the storm hasn’t settled any.
This should be interesting.
24
SEGAN
Having Josiah here, in my house, having nowhere to go, is an awful fucking idea. The debacle in the gym was torturous enough, but he was supposed to be able to leave. Now, he’s practically trapped here, thanks to mother nature, at least until the rain clears up and the sun dries the ground up a bit. Which could be days.
That damn creek always floods when it rains hard enough. You’d think the city would do something about it after so many people have complained about being stranded, but since we’re technically outside of city limits, they apparently don’t give a shit.
I put on a TV show as soon as we sat down about thirty minutes ago, but I couldn’t even say what we’re watching, because I’m too hyper focused on his presence—wearing my clothes—to pay attention. We’re on drink number two, and I’m already nearing the end of it, trying to distract myself.
“So, uh, how was your tour?” Josiah asks softly, keeping his eyes trained on the television. It’s the first time either of us has spoken since he got out of the shower.
“It was good. Almost all venues were sold out.” I down the rest of my drink, watching him nod in my periphery. Standing, I finally look at him. He’s already watching me. “Want another?”
There’s a brief moment where we simply hold eye contact. Finally, he drinks the remaining contents before handing me the glass. “Sure. Thank you.”
As soon as I step into the kitchen, I let out a heavy breath. It’s been nearly eightlongyears since Josiah and I have seen each other, and the last time we saw each other didn’t exactly end well. Kicking him out of my house after I basically rage came in my pants after he dry humped me wasn’t my finest moment.
But just like back then, it seems logical thinking isn’t at the forefront of my mind around him. I loved it back then, but now… it’s inconvenient to say the least.
Pouring us each another drink, I admittedly make them a little stronger than I probably should, but I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin right now. The numbness the liquor brings is needed.
Yeah, that's why you're chugging the alcohol,a quiet, yet incessant, voice in the back of my mind says.Definitely not to use it as an excuse in case you let anything happen.
Shaking my head free of those thoughts, becausenothingcan happen, I make my way back into the living room. For all I know, it’s probably not even on his mind.
