Assassins: Slow Agony Part 6

"I looked in your shower. Clearly a girl showers there."

"Sometimes," said Griffin. "But not Sloane."

I folded my arms over my chest. "So, you have a girlfriend."

He got to his feet, sighing. "Yes. I do."

"Already?"

"Already," he repeated, laughing in disbelief. "It's been months."

"Three months," I said. "Three and a half months. That's not long enough to be in a serious enough relations.h.i.+p that she shaves at your place."

He rubbed his head. "Look, doll-"

"Don't call me that."

His nostrils flared. "Like you haven't spread your legs for half of Thomas by now."

It was such an ugly thing to say. I took a step backwards. "f.u.c.k you." I was going to start crying. Man, I was running the waterworks today. But it was warranted. Things had been pretty rough all day long. I wanted someplace to run to, to lock myself in.

The only place I could go was the bathroom, and I didn't want to be locked in there with her shampoo and shaving gel.

So I took long, steadying breaths, and I didn't move. "I haven't been with anyone. No one."

"You expect me to believe that? I left you alone for a week in Boston, and you started stripping-"

"Because I didn't have money," I said. "I hate how you always bring that up."

"You slept around a lot before me," he said. "Do you deny that?"

I was going to cry. I could feel the tears forming. "Before you."

"And during for all the h.e.l.l I know."

"That's not true," I said.

"I only have your word for that," he said. "And I think you're probably lying."

"I'm not. I swear to G.o.d, Griffin. I would never-"

"I saw you."

Tears spilled out over my cheeks. "You didn't. You didn't see anything. You're making it into something it isn't and overreacting, and you always do that."

He clenched his hands into fists. His voice was hoa.r.s.e. "Don't cry."

I brushed at the tears, irritated. "I'm sorry."

"You cry about it like you're sorry, but it doesn't mean anything."

"I've had a really bad day, Griffin." And the sobs overtook me.

His shoulders slumped. "Yeah, well, mine hasn't been peaches and cream either." He pushed past me and went into the bathroom. A second later, he emerged with a roll of toilet paper, which he handed to me. "Sorry. I don't have any tissues."

I took the toilet paper. I wiped my eyes.

He gestured to the couch. "You want to sit down?"

Gratefully, I sank into it. I blew my nose.

"You hungry?" he said.

"No," I said.

"Come on, what have you eaten today?"

I thought about it. "I guess nothing. But I don't want to eat. I... don't eat all that often anyway. I just got out of the habit I guess." Or I was so depressed over our breakup that food didn't seem that important. But maybe I shouldn't tell him that. He seemed to be handling everything so well. He'd even moved on. Another girlfriend. It made more tears squeeze out of my eyes.

"You should have food," he said. "I can make quesadillas. You okay with that?"

Griffin was actually a pretty good cook. I sniffled. "Don't go to the trouble."

"Hey, I'm starving," he said. "And it's easy. It's not trouble."

I looked at the balled up pieces of toilet paper in my hands. "Okay," I said in a small voice.

He hesitated in the doorway to the kitchen. "Look, doll." He stopped. "Leigh, I mean." He rubbed his head again. "I, um, I'm really sorry about your friend. And I don't want you to be miserable here with me. No matter what happened in the past, I don't want anything to happen to you. I'll always do whatever I can to keep you safe, no matter what."

I raised my gaze to meet his.

He looked away. "It's just that what happened... What you did..."

I shut my eyes. "You said no blaming."

"I wish it didn't bother me so much," he said. "I really do."

Chapter Four.

Griffin put on a movie while we ate. We sat awkwardly on opposite sides of his couch. He didn't have any other furniture in the living room. Maybe that was why it looked so s.p.a.cious. There was very little in it.

I couldn't really concentrate on the movie. I could only think about how screwed up my life had become in a matter of hours. Yesterday, I was a normal college student, eagerly awaiting graduation. Today, everything was different. My best friend had been shot in front of me. I was here in this apartment with my ex-boyfriend, who I'd never really gotten over. Not even a little bit.

And he hated me.

Oh, and there was the fact that some crazy guy was out there trying to kill me.

Maybe I was simply going to have to get used to people chasing me. Maybe there was no way around it.

The movie was one of those superhero ones-the ones with all the sequels. Griffin had all of them. When one finished, he put the next one in.

We perched on the couch together, stiff and nervous, for hours and hours. And we didn't talk.

It had worked for one day, anyhow, but I didn't think we could watch movies for two weeks.

Eventually, it was dark outside, and I started yawning.

Griffin noticed. "You tired?"

"A little," I said.

"Yeah, I guess you've been through a lot today," he said. "He, um, he shot her right in front of you?"

I nodded.

"That's hard," he said. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"I've seen things like that before," I said. "I'm okay."

"Yeah. You're tough." He paused. "Um, you can sleep in the bedroom if you're ready to go to bed."

His bed? The bed where he slept with the girl who shaved herself in his shower? I didn't think so. I shook my head. "Don't be silly. I'm not going to take your bed. I can sleep on the couch."

"No, you're my guest. I insist."

"I don't want to sleep in your bed. It would be too..." I looked away.

He sighed. "I don't have extra sheets. If you sleep out here, all I can give you is a blanket."

"That's fine," I said. I really didn't care.

He drew a hand over his face. "G.o.d. This is so awkward."

"Maybe there's someplace else I could stay."

"No," he said. "There isn't."

"What about Sloane and... whatever the guy's name is? You said they live in Morgantown, right?"

"I can't ask them to do that."

"Fine," I said. I started to dig through my clothes, looking for something to sleep in. It didn't take long for me to realize that I hadn't brought any pajamas. I guess that hadn't been high on my priority list when I was running from Marcel. I set the back pack down.

"What were you looking for?"

"Something to sleep in." All I had were jeans and fitted s.h.i.+rts. I didn't even have something I could use as pajamas. "I didn't bring anything. But it's not a big deal. I can sleep in my clothes."

"You can borrow a s.h.i.+rt," he said.

I bit my lip. I used to sleep in Griffin's s.h.i.+rts. They were big and comfortable, and they smelled like him. I remembered how happy I used to be, crawling into bed with him every night, snuggling close to his hard, warm body.

"Is that weird?" he said. "I was only trying to be nice."

I gazed into his eyes. "What happened to us, Griffin?"

"Jesus, doll." He walked away from me. "You know what f.u.c.king happened." He ducked into his bedroom and came out with a s.h.i.+rt. He threw it at me.

I caught it.

"Go change," he said. "I'll get you a blanket."

I almost didn't put on the s.h.i.+rt. But it was freshly laundered, and it didn't have Griffin's raw, male scent. It only smelled like detergent. So I put it on and left the bathroom.

He looked up from the couch, and when his gaze settled on me, I realized how bare my legs were. Griffin's s.h.i.+rt just barely covered my b.u.t.t. Suddenly, I felt exposed and vulnerable.

But then Griffin was deliberately not looking at me. He busied himself with smoothing the blanket on the couch. "Uh... so if you aren't comfortable, just let me know."

Was he acting like that because he still found me attractive, and it embarra.s.sed him? Or was it only that he was uncomfortable with how little I was wearing? I wasn't sure. I walked around the couch. I wasn't exactly a stranger to the idea of men liking to look at me. Maybe if I tested it, I could be sure.

But he moved, putting the couch between the two of us.

"Thanks," I said.

He looked at me again. "You're welcome." His gaze raked my body, taking me in entirely. His Adam's apple bobbed.

Yeah, I was thinking he was still attracted to me.

"Sleep well," he said. He turned away from me, heading for the bedroom. But then he stopped. He didn't look at me. "You really haven't been with anyone else."

"No."

"Why not?"

I didn't say anything. I wasn't sure how to answer. I sat down slowly on the couch. I ran my hand over the blanket.

He turned. "Doll?"

And I didn't stop him, because I liked it when he called me that. I missed him so much. "You're all I want. That's why."

"Bulls.h.i.+t," he said. "I know you too well to believe that."

"It's true," I said.