August & Colin | WRU series | book 1
We take risks. We make mistakes. We lie. We love. We hurt. We lose total control.
I took a risk. I paid the price.
I made a mistake. I felt the guilt.
I lied. I lie.
I loved. I try not to.
I hurt. I still do.
...
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I close my eyes as I lean against the wall next to the bathroom door behind which August is currently cleaning her top.
Why the fuck am I still standing here? Like an idiot. Waiting for her to what? Come out of the bathroom, give me a thumbs up, a slap on the shoulder, and a casual 'thanks'? She doesn't need me anymore. She needed the bathroom and I helped her find it. My mission is done. So why am I still standing here?
I don't know.
I should go downstairs, pick up a beer and cross my fingers that I won't bump into her again. Because if I do, I don't know how much longer I can keep the wall between us standing. It's wobbling already, perhaps from the way her eyes can light up a fire in me, or perhaps the alcohol is poisoning my mind.
That. That is the problem.
Scratch the beer, I should sober up. I should definitely fucking sober up because the longer I'm around her the more she fogs my brain with impulses I refuse to give in to.
A loud rumbling sound followed by a muffled curse word snatches my attention away from my train of thought.
I knock on the door twice before calling out her name. I wait, but there's no answer. A frown forms itself on my face as I knock again.
"You okay in there?" Although she yells she is fine, I hear another muffled curse and I shake my head at her stubbornness. The rumbling stops and I lean closer as if that would magically help me understand what's going on. The moment I want to call her name again, the door slowly opens and her small head pops out.
"Hi." The tone in her voice combined with her sheepish smile is a dead giveaway she needs my help to find the laundry detergent. I gave her instructions when she walked in but maybe the cabinet isn't as structured anymore as I remember it to be this morning. I could ask her if my guess is right but I greet her back instead.
"Hi."
"So..." She trails off and I know she's waiting for me to burst in and give her the laundry detergent, but I don't budge.
"So." I mimic her, not giving her anything more than she's giving me.
"I don't think I'm blind but this cabinet is making me doubt myself." As soon as the sentence is out of her mouth, she flashes me a pleading, wide-toothed smile. Then, she opens the door wider, inviting me in. I fight the grin pulling on the corner of my mouth by clenching my teeth. The words to mock her for not wanting to directly ask for help linger on my lips and even though the temptation to bring out the fire in her eyes is more than present, I decide against it.
Silently I walk past the door she's standing behind and I stop in front of the sink filled with water and a white top.
Her white top.
I blink and swallow the lump in my throat away. For fuck's sake, she's not wearing her top.
She's standing behind me, and I have to pretend it does nothing to me. I have to pretend I don't want to turn around and do something impulsive, just to show her how wrong she was. I have to pretend we were nothing because that's what it was to her.
