An Arrow To The Chest

Chapter 33

I scramble out of bed, groggy and pissed off, ready to stop the noise of a fist bashing against my door. This time I make sure to look through the peephole, despite knowing exactly who's pounding my door at 4 am, and a glance confirms it's him, one hand leaning against the door to hold himself up, the other slamming down at the wood.

It was the same three thuds, only this time, he would only pause a second before repeating.

I can tell he's drunk by the way he sways, his eyelids flickering half shut, and how his spine looks like it's made of spaghetti. If I open the door in one quick motion he'd stumble right over, which he deserves for waking me up, but it would also mean having to engage with him. Instead, if I remain quiet, hopefully, he'll think I'm a heavy sleeper and leave me alone.

"I know you're in their Eloise, open the door," he half yells, half mumbles, getting impatient with me. The door physically shakes this time, and I can see that he's slamming his fist with a lot of force, almost like he's trying to break it down.

"I'm sleeping, leave me alone!" I shout back, which I instantly regret because obviously I'm not sleeping if I can respond.

For a moment his face lights up, realising that he's been successful in ruining my sleep, and the thumping stops. He lets his whole body lean against my door, and I realise how close he actually is. The one-inch width of wood is the only distance between us, and I'm tempted to stop spying on him and instead let him in.

"I've had a lot to drink."

"I can tell."

"Will you let me in?"

"No."

"Can you see me?" he leans up, catching me spying, and I feel as though I have no choice but to open the door and see what he wants.

"Okay I'm opening the door, can you take a step back?"

He takes a very exaggerated step backwards, and I gently open the door halfway, blocking the entrance with my body.

"What do you want?"

"I want to sleep in here."

"You want to sleep in my room?"

"That is literally what I just said, yes."

Even in this drunk state, he still manages to deliver his sarcastic and sassy attitude.

'That's not happening."

"Sam takes up all of the bed, and you're very small, so I figured you wouldn't mind."

His words are slurred and he hiccups mid-sentence, then presses his palm against his forehead- probably to stop the pounding. Sam must be his friend from home, and I picture a large meaty guy sprawled out on Arrow's bed, heavily snoring in his ear.

"I mind very much Arrow. I don't want you anywhere near my bed, nor do I want you waking me up at 4 am. Why didn't you go wake up Khad?"

"I quite like the idea of sharing a bed with you," he says the words slowly, like he's trying to make sense of them in his head, and that the thought has only just occurred to him. It unsettles me that I like hearing it- that him wanting to share a bed with me makes me happy.

"Oh."

I hate myself for considering it- for picturing him slipping under my duvet, his bare thighs only inches away from mine. I wonder whether he'd try wrapping an arm around me, pulling me in to fit perfectly against each other- two pieces of the same puzzle.

"I'm still with Jackson, it would be inappropriate," I respond, even though I was already 'cheating scum'. There are a million other reasons why I have to say no; how awful he treats me, how he talks shit behind my back, how he makes mean comments on how I look. And yet, I want to give in and let myself pretend that someone like him wants to spend a night with someone like me.