Exhale

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

A week had passed, and I hadn't seen Adrian since the trip back from Salem. Part of me had the feeling that he was the one who didn't walk away with both limbs still attached. His death (if at all possible for him) would have been because of me. They could have found him. I was praying that wasn't the case, but I wasn't sure.

Saturday morning hit hard and heavy. The sound of someone knocking on the door disrupted my sleep. Groaning, I rolled over and shut my eyes while covering my ears with a pillow. They knocked again, and I moaned, opening one eye and checking the time on my phone. 7.05am.

Who the heck in the right mind would be knocking on my door at seven am on a Saturday morning?

I was contemplating just leaving it. Whoever was at the door could come back later.

Then I heard a voice in my head. Answer the door. Suddenly, I felt the urge to get up and see who was here.

Throwing on my robe and slippers, I tiredly trudged down the stairs and to the front door. I unlocked the door and opened it, only to release a sigh of relief at who was there. Adrian stood there, hands in pockets, thumbs sticking out, with a neutral expression clouding his face. He was wearing a black denim jacket, a gray fitted tee, and a pair of black joggers and black and gray Vans. His hair was perfect, as always. He looked to have been up for hours already.

"You're alive," I exclaimed, holding back the temptation to hug him. I had so many questions for him. Like where he'd been the whole week, or if he'd been followed by witches trying to get me. This person standing before me was a complete mystery. I had to get to the end of the puzzle. I needed to know his past.

"But you won't be for long," he grimaced.

I thought this was his way of threatening me, and I shut my feelings of relief off. Pure detest replaced them. He couldn't overcome what was happening. I bit back a cry and attempted to shut the door again.

"Wait," he called out before wedging his foot between the doorframe and the door. "Let me explain."

I opened it slowly and stared at him, slitting my eyes. "What do you want? Do you realize what time it is?"

He was holding back a laugh. "You know, for it being so early, you do ask a lot of questions." beat. "Nice outfit, by the way."

I peeked at my reflection in the mirror next to the door.

My hair was sticking out of its ponytail, and I had drool stains on the sides of my mouth. Leftover makeup that I'd somehow missed, smudged my bottom lashes. The neckline to my tanktop was a little lower than I would have liked, and I suddenly remembered I wasn't wearing a bra.

I nonchalantly pulled it up higher and wrapped my robe a little tighter around myself. "For it being so early, you should be sleeping right now." I grimaced at him. "I only ask these types of questions when I feel uncomfortable."

"I make you uncomfortable." It was stated as more of a question.

"Well you don't exactly give me butterflies," I noted. Only, that wasn't completely true. He did give me butterflies. He was super out of control and over the edge, and given my history, he was my type. And I hated that. I hated him for that. I hated myself for feeling something stir inside me when I was around him. I felt like I was drifting to the edge, ready to jump, and I was trying my best to stay away, by shutting off my emotions. I needed to keep my guard up, because if I didn't, I was going to start feeling, and I was going to start making bad decisions. I had come to the conclusion that, whether he rescued me or not, he was still himself. It would take a miracle to change that. I didn't want to replay last week's car make-out session. It was a mistake. In fact, me telling him I'd give him what he wanted as some point was a mistake. I blamed it on my weird attraction to him. My fascination. I wasn't thinking through things, and I wasn't using my head. It was like being in a trance or something. Only, I'd been fully with it.