VEGASPETE🔞+KILL FOR YOU

Chepter 18

PETE POV

The alarm goes off on my phone at six am. I try to pry my sleepy eyes open so that I can find my damn phone, but they’re glued shut. Plus I don’t want to wake Vegas. I decided last night that it would be best if I leave before he wakes. I don’t know if I can handle the rejection that I know is coming.

Resisting the clinginess that’s pulling me to mold myself into those strong arms is like fighting to breathe underwater. I have never belonged somewhere more than I do right now. No masks. No pretending. No thinking of the past. Just mentally disturbed Pete who enjoys getting off on his crush hurting others and wanting to be part of it.

Slowly and carefully, I get out of the bed, and I manage to dress myself. Giving one last look over at the bed, Vegas is laying on his stomach, arms folded under the pillow, and I feel a pinch at my newly beating heart. He’s stunning. His muscular tanned skin glows under the gentle hue of the nightlight in the corner of the room we forgot to turn off last night before we passed out. The temptation to lick his back forces me to physically restrain myself. I won’t turn back. With a regretful sigh, I leave the room and already the anxiousness of returning to Jake is making me feel agitated. Remembering I said I would text him, I quickly fire off a message,

Me: Just about to leave.

Short and concise, and he will still bitch about it.

Walking down the long corridor, I am greeted by who I guess must be Porsch, which surprises me. I thought I would manage to dodge any interactions this early in the morning. He is standing in a doorway across the foyer to what looks like the kitchen or dining area. I’m not sure whether to speak to him, but luckily he makes that decision for me.

“Pete, right?” he asks, and I can tell he is curious as he quickly scans me head to toe before a bright smile breaks out on his face. I must admit, he is hot. Dressed in gym gear, he has either finished a workout or is about to start. From the look of his tight body that appears to be a daily thing.

“Yeah, and I bet you are Porsch.”

He laughs. “Sure am, come on and have a coffee before you sneak out.”

He turns, assuming that I will follow, which I hesitantly do.

Handing me a fresh cup of coffee, he points to the milk and cream on the counter. “Help yourself,” he says as he sits at the table.

I join him. I'm not quite sure what to say, but Porsch fills in the silence.

“Heard you got quite a lot from the boys last night?” he says.

I nod. “Yep, it was fun.” I shrug and smile.

When I look up, Porsch is just staring at me, probably because of my weird-ass smile or maybe what I just said. Who knows? Social cues are not my strong point.

“I see why he likes you, you are as screwed up as Vegas is.” He chuckles, taking a large gulp of his coffee.

“He doesn't like me, it was just fucking.” I don’t know why I tell him we are fucking, but he isn’t stupid. He’s probably had coffee in here with multiple men and women after Vegas kicks them out.

Porsch continues to watch me closely with his coffee mug lifted halfway to his mouth. I don’t think he was expecting that response. “Hmm. Maybe, but I have never seen him with anyone before. He never spends the night here with a guy or girl,” he says.

Now that's interesting information. Maybe he does like me? Ugh, fucking men. “Well, we didn't really sleep much,” I say, proud of my Vegas belt notch.

He snorts at that. “That's not surprising.”

That comment gets my attention. Does he mean he knows him like that? I'm spiraling at the thought and Crazy has decided to join in the fun.