20 Days In His Bedroom

Chapter Twelve

I'm about to leave when one of the girls calls after me.
"Come, girl! Join us with that hot guy!"

I turn around. She's tall, blonde, and confidently beautiful in her bikini.

"Twi?" Nial's eyes widen the moment he sees me.

"Yes, Twi," I say, my voice sharp.

"Do you know her?" the blonde asks, climbing onto his shoulder like she owns him.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, ignoring her completely.

"That's none of your business," I snap.

The girls burst into mocking laughter behind me, but I don't care.

"Why did you come here, then? To watch me? Or to swim?" he teases.

"I came here by accident. Sorry for ruining your little bath time with your companions." I turn and walk away.

Their laughter follows me.
I don't know why I said that. Now he'll think I'm jealous—and maybe I am.
No. I'm not jealous. I'm angry. Angry that he left me without a word, like I don't exist. Like I'm a burden.
I'm not his responsibility, but he's the only person I have here... well, besides Jace now.

Suddenly, someone grabs my arm.
I spin around—Nial.

"What do you want?" I raise an eyebrow.

He doesn't answer immediately.

"Can you speak quickly? I have a meeting with my friend," I lie.
Why did I say that? I don't even know why I want to make him think I've got people too.

"Friend?" he laughs.
"Who is he?"

"You don't need to know."

"Why did you leave the pool and come after me?" I narrow my eyes.

"Because... I thought you were upset."

"Upset? Why would I be?"

"Maybe because I chose those girls over you." He smirks.

What a jerk.

I laugh dryly. "Really? You think you matter that much? You can do whatever you want with whoever you want. But you can't treat me like garbage."

"Treat you like garbage?"

"Yes! You left without saying a word. Then you mock me in front of your little cheerleaders."

"I didn't mock you. You were the one who got jealous as hell."

"I wasn't jealous! You're delusional! Think before you speak—your words make no sense."

"Go upstairs, Twyla. People are staring."

"You're not my father. Stop acting like one!"

"Go. Upstairs."

I can't believe I'm even having this fight with him.
Since the moment I met him, all we've done is argue.
What is wrong with me? I'm never like this. I don't lose control. I don't talk back. But with him... I can't help it.

"I'll grab my clothes and come after you," he says, calmer now.

"Fine."
I head to the room and sit on the bed, waiting.

A few minutes later, he comes in—silent. He tosses his shirt aside and stays shirtless.

"Hey," I finally say.

"Hello. How are you?" he scoffs.

"I'm serious."

"So?" He shrugs, sitting on the edge of the bed just inches from me.

"I thought you brought me here to talk, not to just stare at each other."

"I'm not staring. If you are, that's your business."

"Okay, then let's start over," I say, looking away.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asks after a pause.

Honestly, I'm not even sure. I don't want to talk about the pool. I was being ridiculous.

"Well... I didn't mean what I said earlier. I was just upset because you ignored me and left. You know I don't have anyone here. And I don't expect you to act like a parent or something... but at least don't vanish like that."
Crap. Why did I say all that? He already knows I'm alone, but still...

"I just meant... maybe we can work things out until I find my parents. After that, you won't even see my face again."

"Okay. And how exactly do we 'work things out'? I'm all ears."

"We could... stop fighting?" I suggest.

"No way," he laughs.

"Okay, maybe at least try?" I laugh too.

"You can try. I probably can't."

I frown.

"I'm joking," he smirks.

"Right," I smile.

"There's a party tonight. Wanna come? Or do you still have that meeting with your 'friend'?" He winks.

He's teasing me for lying, obviously.

"I'll cancel with my friend. But I'm not going with you." I get up and walk to the bathroom.

"There's no friend, is there? You said you don't know anyone here but me," he calls after me.
I know he's smirking, even though my back is turned.

"That's not true." I turn around and pull out Jace's card.
"See?" I glare.

"Really? You carry your friends' cards in your pocket?"

"Where else would I keep it? I don't have a phone. I don't have anything," I say, frustrated.

He steps closer.

"Stop saying that. Stop saying you don't have anything," he mutters.

"But it's true. Why isn't anyone looking for us? Why isn't anyone bringing us back home?"

"I don't give a shit about that." He opens the fridge and pulls out a chocolate bar.

"But I do!" I shout.

"Well, you do. I don't."

"I want to cry." My voice breaks. I can't hold it anymore.

"Why?"
His tone shifts. Softer. Concerned.

I collapse onto the bed.

"I want Mom and Dad. I want to feel their arms around me. I want to cry on my mother's shoulder," I sob.

I know I must look like a child, but I don't care. That's who I am. I'm not pretending anymore.

Then I feel a hand on my cheek—gentle.
It's him. I push it away, but he pulls me into him instead.

He cuddles me.

And I don't resist.

I press into him and cry harder.
Maybe I don't care who the hug comes from anymore.
I just need one.