“Cared.”
???
If anyone would’ve asked me if I thought I’d be pacing outside of some girl’s room at one in the morning, I would’ve laughed in their fucking face. Yet here I was. Feeling like a sack of shit for being cruel to a woman I knew everything and yet nothing about. I was tormenting myself, but the sick masochist in me craved the punishment.
After she left, I laid in bed and shut my eyes. I tried to fall asleep, but no matter what I did, my mind wouldn’t stop racing. I just kept thinking about what happened. The feel of her wetness gliding against my hand, her deliciously sweet scent filling my senses. I assumed she was bluffing. She didn’t want me; it was just another way for her to prove her strength in a world that would eat her alive if she didn’t. But I felt the heat radiating off of her body and the electric current flowing between us. She wanted me and I was a stubborn dickhead about it.
I needed to get my mind off of her, so I grabbed my phone for an easy distraction. As soon as I unlocked the screen, I saw eight text notifications and three missed calls. Sliding open the group chat, I checked to see what I missed.
Ezra (7:47 PM): Where the fuck is everyone? Our kitten isn’t playing nice.
Cyrus (7:47 PM): Looking for T. What’s up?
Atlas (7:48 PM): Already OMW
Ezra (7:48 PM): Sending a video. Kittens got claws. ;)
The video’s audio was shit between all the screaming and music pumping through the speakers, but the visuals were clear as day. The video showed Stevie in a blind rage, straddling Melanie as she punched her in the face over and over again. The camera zoomed in on Stevie's face just in time to catch a menacing smile form across her lips. The entire crowd continued to watch, enamored by the tiny girl with a taste for violence. If I listened hard enough, I could pick up bits and pieces of what the crowd was saying. The overall consensus was that Stevie was now the craziest bitch in Caspian Hills.
Cyrus (7:51 PM): WTF?
Atlas (7:52 PM): Got her. Heading home now. Ez, give the twins a ride.
Ezra (7:54 PM): Np
Cyrus (7:54 PM): We’re down the block. T’s blowing off some steam.
I’d made assumptions about Stevie that were unfair. The Malcolm shit had blindsided me. We all assumed he was her pimp, not her fucking step dad. Apologizing wasn’t something I did freely, but if anyone deserved one, it was her.
“Stevie…” I called out, racking my knuckles against her door.
If she didn’t answer, I wouldn’t push her. I’d done enough tormenting for the night.
“What do you want Tristan?” She asked, her voice clear as day. She couldn’t sleep either.
My pulse intensified at the sound of her gentle, melodic voice. I didn’t think she’d be able to decipher my voice from Cyrus’ that easily. Even our own brothers had a hard time telling our voices apart, but it shouldn’t have surprised me. In the little time I’d known her, Stevie proved to be observant as hell.
Pressing my forehead against the door, I ransacked my mind for what to say next.
“You fought Melanie.” I mused before immediately cursed myself for making such a dumb observation.No shit, asshole.I had seen the video and the cuts and scrapes on her face.
“I did.” She responded cooly.
“Why?” I breathed.
It was a loaded question if there ever was one. Stevie seemed like a smart girl. Every move she made with us thus far was made with extreme caution. When I left them, their petty argument could’ve ended right then. Something Mel said pushed her into violence, and I needed to know what it was.
“You know why.” She hesitated, “you heard what she said. She deserved it after the way she spoke to you.”
“I s… see.” I said, at a loss for words.
“Did you want to come in? Or…”
“No.” I cut her off, more harshly than I intended.
“Oh.” She murmured, her voice thick with emotion.
Fuck.I was fucking this up already, and I hadn’t even told her why I came.
