Quiet Not Innocent | ✔︎

Chapter 43:

A S P E N ♡ W I L S O N
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My ears strain for the sound of Dakota's exit out of my house, but it never comes. I wait, and wait, and wait, but the door never closes behind him.

The idiot is still here.

Scowling, I struggle to sit upright in my bed. I can't believe he's making me kick him out. I can't believe he's making me get out of bed. Fucking hell.

The second my feet touch the cold floorboards, I almost scream and scurry back under my covers. I love winter but I do not love a cold house. I try again, this time going on my tiptoes and practically dashing across the room to my door and then out.

"Dakota!" I scream, my voice cracking horribly. I don't get a response.

Holy shit. Is there a burglar? Did he maybe die? Is that why he isn't speaking? What the fuck.

I cannot have him die on me. Absolutely not. Dakota was Mrs. Arian's favorite nephew. I cannot afford for Mrs. Arian to hate me because her two brain-celled relative got himself entangled with a fucking robber and then died under my watch, under my roof.

Technically, you're under his watch.

Shut the fuck up.

"Dakota!" I yell again, a little more scared this time. As I walk towards the hallway, I grab a tennis racket and hold it as a baseball bat. "Are you okay?!"

"What is it?" I hear his voice and tighten my grip around the racket, scowling.

This fuckface. He sounded perfectly fine.

"I'm going to bash your face in! I thought I told you to—"

I almost trip because of how sudden my stop was from storming inside the living room. Am I dreaming right now?

I blink. Once and then twice and then thrice. I even rub my eyes to see if I was seeing things right and my sickness didn't bring along hallucinations.

Saint Black was here.

In my home. Sitting on the couch only a few meters away from me, looking as horrible as ever. Between our two appearances, you'd think he was the sick one. His hair was messy, his eyes tired with huge as fuck eye-bags underneath, and don't even get me started on the state of his complexion. He looked like a creature out of a horror movie.

Yeah, this can't be right. Am I seeing things?

I blink at him again, unable to waver my gaze from him. My heart was thudding wildly in my chest and it felt like it was going to climb up my throat and land on the floor any minute.

"Ew, you look like a rat when you do that with your mouth." Dakota's comment snaps me out of my daze and I turn to him, narrowing my eyes.

The moron was shirtless and on top of it, he was talking with a mouthful of nachos! And he was calling me ew? This little—

"You." I point my racket at his face. "Get out."

Dakota pouts dramatically. "But Auntie said—"

"I'm fine!" I defend myself. "Tell her she's worrying for nothing and I can take care of myself."