{Complete}
-Formerly, Searching for Sirens-
Zander Armstrong, Pirate MC prospect, has never felt more betrayed than finding his girlfriend in bed with his best guy friend and fellow future Pirate. Though having said girl leave him for that same frie...
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It's odd seeing Creed so distressed. Not heartbroken, like someone would expect to see, but like he's worried something will come crashing down. I keep stealing glances back at him as I heat water in the kettle. A beer would probably calm him down a little better, but I forgo that idea for a cup of chamomile tea.
I'm sure having Zane jump up in his face for no reason didn't help his stress levels. I had to shove Zane back to his motorcycle and threaten to call my dad to tell him he's here starting shit. Creed has just as much right to be at my house as he does, and he knows it.
As I pour the hot water into the ready mug, my phone buzzes in my jean jacket pocket, no doubt just another text from Zane asking if I'm okay and if Creed is gone yet.
I hate to ignore Zane right now, but Creed needs me more. Besides, Zane left me standing on the pier frustrated and alone for forty-five minutes. He can wait.
I take the mug over to the couch Creed is sitting on and set it on the table in front of him before tentatively taking a seat next to him. I'm not very good at stuff like this, consoling the broken-hearted. I did a terrible job for Zane when Becca did this to him over a year ago, and I feel just as inapt for Creed. Honestly, I think he's better off, but those aren't the types of words someone hurting wants to hear.
I gently run my hand across his back in small comforting circles. His fingers are dug deep into his black locks as he hunches over in a stress-filled ball.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. Do I mean it? No, but I know the words are nice to hear. I am sorry that he has to go through this, not that I didn't predict it. I'm honestly shocked it lasted this long.
"Thanks." Creed takes in a deep breath before running his hands over his face and taking a deep breath in. He flops back, relaxing into the couch, and stares up at the ceiling. "Ollie?" His voice seems so distant, and the weight of the world seems to hang on his shoulders.
"Yeah?" I lean back next to him. I might not be a comforting friend, but I can at least be one that can lend a listening ear.
"What would you do if I told you that I don't think I ever slept with Becca?"
