The Death of Me

Chapter Three

Renae

Who was that guy? Why the hell was I in his apartment? This is way too much for a—I don't even know what day it is! How long was I out? Did anything happen? My face goes red. I'm in his clothes. Did he—No. It must've been the girl. Jesus, what the hell happened?
I reach my apartment door only to realize I don't have my keys. I didn't think i'd ever be back after the other night. I pray as I put my hand on the doorknob and turn, hoping I forgot to lock it. I turn the knob and hear clicks and the door pushes open. Oh thank the Lord.
Quickly, I walk into my apartment and walk swiftly to take a shower. His clothes practically fall off my body in the bathroom as I take a brush through my somewhat settled hair. Getting into the shower feeling the warm water on my skin felt so good.
After I got out of the shower, I put on some of my own sweatpants and a t-shirt. Leaving my hair up in a towel to let it dry out a little, I decided to make a cheese quesadilla since I'm practically starving. I make my way to the kitchen and realize my apartment is clean. Like, really clean. Shrugging my shoulders, I turn the stove on, through some butter on the pan, and grab the tortillas from the pantry, and the pepper jack cheese from the fridge. Yes, I know, cheese quesadillas are usually made with cheddar or mixed cheeses. I'm partially lactose intolerant and those cheeses really mess up my stomach. So, I use pepper jack instead. Once the pan is fully heated and the butter is melted, I lay down a tortilla and let it warm. Then, I grab the pepper jack cheese and lay it on the tortilla. About halfway through the cheese melting, I fold it in half. I let it cook for a second longer, then, grab a plate from the drying rack next to the sink and put my quesadilla on it. Turning off the stove, I grab my plate and make my way to the couch. I place myself on the edge of the couch on the far right side, but end up on the ground in front of the coffee table.
Once I finished my food, I noticed I didn't have my phone with me. I scoured my entire apartment for it, but I couldn't remember if I had brought it with me the other night or if I'd left it here. It wasn't on my person and it wasn't in the apartment. I could've left it on the roof. Making my way up to my to the roof, I recalled walking up to the roof that night. The anxiety flooded me again, but I ignored it and continued my tread up the stairs. Once I got to the roof, I looked all over but I didn't see my phone anywhere. Shit. This meant the only other place it could be was— No. I am not going down there. I'll be fine without a phone. I wont be here much longer anyway.
On my way back down, I pass the door to his floor. I blew right past it, but once I reached the door to my floor, I couldn't open it. God I need my phone. I made my way back up and reached his floor. This wasn't such a good idea. He owns the entire upper floor. That's intimidating.
Just as I turn around to leave, I hear a door open. I look back and see a girl. No, the girl. She was in the penthouse. She notices me and smiles, but doesn't say anything. She walks towards the elevator and leaves, not saying a word. Hesitantly, I walk over to the door she came from. I realize there are markings on the door that I hadn't noticed before. They seem to be scattered, there's no pattern to them. I pushed that aside and knock on the door. I wait. Nothing happens. I try again, knocking harder this time. I hear a thud from inside and them a lot of shuffling around. My heart is practically in my throat when someone opens the door. It's a guy, but not him.He's supporting himself with his arm on the door frame. He's taller than him. I'd say around 6'2". I'm just about 5'8" and I'm still looking up at him. I take in his features.
He's got coarse black hair, his skin is porcelain, and he's absolutely huge. His shirt is hugging his muscles just right, especially his biceps. His sweatpants are hanging on his waist and they just about reached his ankles. His hair is a mess and he's got a bit of dried drool on the right corner of his mouth. He's breathing heavily, staring down at me. I feel him boring holes into my head with his eyes. I finally meet his eyes. They're brown. His stance and aura is so cold and standoff-ish, but his eyes are warm, almost innocent.
"What?" he mumbled groggily. American, unlike the guy from the other night.
"H-Hi," I stuttered.
"Hi," he replied.
"Im here for someone," I said.
"Do you have a name?" he asked.
"Renae Harek."
"No, not your name. Do you have a name of who you're looking for?"
I blushed, embarrassed. "Right. No, I don't."
He looked at me suspiciously. Then, he turned around and called out "Grant!! She's here!"
He left the door open and walked away, motioning with his head for me to come in. Wearily, I walked through the door and closed it behind me. I looked around and took in the small details. There were plants in almost every corner. There was french molding which is weird in a modern design, but it kind've worked. I hovered in front of the door while the guy sat down on the couch. He looked over at me and I looked away. I don't want him to think I'm staring. I hear him let out a low laugh to himself.
"Kasey," he said.
I turned my attention to him again. "What?"
"My name," he replied.
"Oh," I said. "Renae."
"I am aware," he smiled slightly.
Embarrassed, I turned my gaze to the floor.
Just then, someone came tumbling out into the room. It was him.
He looked at me and smiled a goofy half smile, then turned his attention to Kasey, who had gotten up from the couch and started towards him.
"K.J, where you bothering her?" he accused him.
Kasey stared at him, not saying a word. He turned to me, "It was nice to meet you." He then walk into a room on the opposite side of where the guy had come from.
He sighed and started towards me. I took a step back. I was only here for one thing. I didn't have time to make friends with this guy. If anything, I needed to get rid of him. He noticed my caution of him and took note of it.
"It's in my room," he said, walking back to the room he had previously came out of.
I wasn't sure if he wanted me to follow him, so I didn't. I didn't move from where I was standing. Impatiently, I swayed back and forth slightly. A few moments later, he came back with my phone in hand. He stopped a few steps short of me, leaving a good distance between us.
"I was afraid you'd call the cops on me for kidnapping so I took your phone and hid it," he said sternly. He kept his eyes on the floor and his stature was dark.
"I wasn't going to call the cops," I replied shakily.
He didn't respond and didn't move his eyes up to me either. He seemed almost ashamed of what he'd done. I want to reach out to him, rest my hand on his arm, but I don't.
The silence is loud between us. Finally, he held out my phone flat on his palm. I cautiously take it from him. I wanted to flee, get out of there as soon as possible, but my legs wouldn't move. I gripped my phone tightly, staring at the ground to the side of me.
"He wasn't bothering me," I say, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
He looks up at me, his eyes glisten slightly, his lips perking into a small smile, "good."
My legs finally turn me around, and I hurriedly make my way out of his space.