Unintentionally Bared (18+) ✔

Chapter Fifteen

The walk back to my apartment was deliberately slow, despite the harsh weather. My mind contemplated what I should wear to Marcos party this weekend. I was stuck between something enticing or something modest. Hoping that Alexander would make an appearance, I was leaning toward something alluring. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since I last laid eyes on him, yet I missed him terribly. I missed how his lips felt against mine. I missed how his strong hands caressed me. I missed his wicked tongue and sinful mind. I missed how warm he made me feel, I missed all of him.

Lost in my own thoughts, I didn't even realize I had made it back to Issacs car. The sudden urge to drive to Alexanders house was unbearable, but with a deep sign I got in and made my way towards Issacs apartment. The traffic was thick, but I didn't mind, I was in no rush. The snow has finally halted, leaving the pavement a slushy frozen mess. Almost half an hour later I finally arrived. Once I entered the lobby I made my way into to elevators, ascending to his floor. A depressed feeling overwhelmed me as I knocked on his door. After a moment with no answer I knocked again and waited. When another minute passed, I reached for the door handle and found it unlocked.

The smell of liquor gagged me as I entered the foyer. The entire apartment was chaotic, glass crunched under my boots with each step I took. Glancing into the living room I spot Isaac asleep on the couch gripping a bottle of Brandy, the contents nearly empty. The ice pack along his face was now dripping down his neck, pooling at the dip in his collarbone. Concern filled me as I entered even further. His home looked like it was hit by a tornado. Books were scattered along the hardwood floor, mingling with the glass. The television mounted along the wall was beaten with several puncture wounds. His dining room table laid on its side with each leg broken off.

"Took you long enough." Issacs grunts stumbling into the kitchen, holding his still swollen face.

"What the hell happened?" I ask ignoring his rude tone.

"Don't worry about it." He answers as he finishes off the Brandy with one last swig. "I'm going to bed."

I'm speechless as I watch him slam the bottle to the floor and stumble off down the hallway. After entering his room, he turns around, his eyes scolding mine for a moment before slamming the door in my face. What in the actual fuck. I'm frozen in spot, not knowing what to do. Should I comfort him, or should I run? I do neither, instead I head into the kitchen and grab a trash bag from under the sink, deciding to distract myself with this mess. I start in the kitchen picking up the big pieces of glass off the counter and floor before grabbing a dust pan to pick up the smaller pieces.

My mind is whirling, trying to figure out what happened to him in the few hours I was gone, he seemed okay when I dropped him off. I've never seen him like this and it scared me. It must have been something serious to set him off this bad. Steadying my nerves with a deep breath, I finish cleaning the kitchen then make my way towards the dining room. The table was unrepairable, so I picked up the broken pieces and laid them next to the front door to take to the dumpster. I aligned his books back onto the bookshelf where they belonged, wiping each down to remove the glass dustings from its cover. I moved from room to room, constantly finding broken glass even after I was positive I got it all the first time. My mood was quickly descending the more I moved throughout the house. I was sweating by the time I finished, frustrated by his lack of self-control. What man in his right mine does something like this. It was easily several thousand dollars in damage. Isaac had managed to break every single piece of glass he owned, trashing his entire apartment. He couldn't even give me an explanation why he did it, instead he shut me out, choosing to comfort himself with a bottle of liquor. It was worrisome to say the least but there really wasn't much I could do but wait it out. Heading back into the kitchen, I grabbed a pen and piece of paper leaving him a note: