Love and Other Chemistry ♡ Trevor Zegras

27 | Milly

Part Twenty Eight:
A Little In Love

"Milly, sweetie," my mother whispered, cracking my bedroom door open slightly to poke her head through. "He's here."

Bracing myself by burying my face under the covers, I didn't bother to reply, knowing that at the end of the day, mom was probably going to let him in, and there was nothing I could do to stop that. I had run out of places to hide, and honestly, I was exhausted from running. In the end, either way I'll get closure.

We both will. And we both deserve at least that much.

I couldn't quite believe it. My first ever real relationship--if that was what you could call it--and it had turned to complete shambles. What did this say about me as a person? What did this mean for all future relationships. Would my heart remain broken, a little piece of it being lost to Trevor eternally, and most of all, would I feel like this forever?

A full five minutes later, my bedroom door was creaking open again, only this time, the person slipping their way into my sanctuary didn't make a sound. I held my breath, wishing that this would all just go away. But, I wasn't a child, and I knew that my problems wouldn't just magically disappear, and that the only way to resolve this whole mess was to face him head on.

Even if it meant he saw how puffy and swollen my eyes were.

Trevor placed himself on the very edge of my bed, his body as far from me as physically possible. He sighed deeply placing both of his hands in his lap and focusing on them like his life depended on it.

I glanced up at him, peaking my eyes out of the top of my comforter. He almost looked as bad as I felt with his usually perfectly styled hair flat on his head, the skin under his eyes dark and his nails bitten down too far, leaving red skin and cuts all over the tips of his fingers.

I hadn't realised this whole thing had been getting to him as much as it had been getting to me, which was selfish. Of course, he was feeling horrible for himself, he just lost one of his closest friends over the admission of three words.

I took a mental note of the slight bruising that spread over his knuckles. It didn't look fresh, maybe a week old, but there was definitely bruising there. An image from Monday of Jack's bright purple jawline flashed through my mind. Had Trevor been the one to punch him that weekend? Maybe Alex had told Trevor everything after all.

Oh God.

Did that mean . . . he knew about what happened in Alex's car?

My cheeks burned a horrible shade of red as I remained gazing at him from between my pile of pillows and blankets. He sat as still as possible, not speaking a word as he bowed his head and fidgeted with his fingers. I swallowed all of the fear I was feeling, wanting to break the silence.

"Z," I whispered, before realising my choice of name, and correcting myself in an instant in fear that I had crossed a line. "Uh, I mean, Trevor?"

He sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. "You can still call me Z, Milly."

"Oh," I breathed, avoiding his gaze as I pulled myself into a seated position, crossing my legs under myself. "Right. Sorry."

He sighed again. "And stop saying you're sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Sorry," I mumbled, before my brain registered I had done it again. "I mean . . . sorry."

Trevor's lips pulled into a gentle grin, though his gaze remained on his own hands as he twiddled his thumbs in silence. He shook his head incredulously. "How is it that we can be in the middle of a fight and you still manage to take my breath away?"