Chapter Twenty Five
Trust
"You don't have to leave so soon."
I glanced up from where I had been stuffing the last of my things into an already entirely too full duffel bag. Looking around, the absence of my things had somewhat cleared up the clutter in Nudge's already too small bedroom.
"Yes, I really do," I replied, a bit condescendingly, as I gestured to the space around us. She seemed to get the point from where she was leaning in the doorway, but that didn't cease the frown tugging at the corners of her lips; forcing the contours of her forehead to dip into a scowl.
"But I'm going to miss having you as a roommate!" she insisted, dropping to her knees on the carpet beside me. Her fingers closed around the zipper I had just managed to close, hesitating like she was contemplating ripping it open again.
My glare stopped her advances.
"I'm going to miss you too, Nudge." Maybe not the endless chatter at all hours of the night, but on a broader scale I was going to miss her nonetheless. "But it's not like I'm leaving New York again. Just this apartment. I'll see you as much as I did before all this nonsense happened."
I hefted the bulging bag over my shoulder, keeling over slightly at the weight of it pressed against me. Nudge gave me a wane smile, picking up my other -and infinitely smaller- tote. She trailed after me as I shuffled into the main room, where her mom was waiting with the door open. I shot her a grateful smile as I passed.
Thankfully, the elevator in Nudge's building actually worked, compared to the rusting, hulking mass of useless metal in my old complex across the street. It made the trip to the bottom floor so much easier, although the claustrophobia from such a confined space was tickling at the back of my mind by the time we reached the lobby. Shaking off the itching feeling I made my way to the front entrance, hearing a scuffle as the others followed in pursuit.
I paused at the door, allowing my bag to slide off my shoulder and onto the dirty tile with a thud. Rubbing the space where the strap had been biting into my skin I offered up a smile for Nudge and her mother.
"Thanks again for letting me stay with you guys. I really owe you."
"Don't be silly. It was our pleasure," Nudge's mom assured me, pulling me into a warm hug. "You're welcome anytime."
Nudge nodded enthusiastically along with the previous words, wrapping her own arms around my waist. Yeesh. They acted like I was shipping myself back to Arizona, instead of just across town. It's not like they could have enjoyed my company that much.
"Thank you," I repeated, bending to pick up my bag again. I backed into the door, forcing it open with my body. Nudge scurried out ahead of me, while her mom propped the door open so I could walk down the steps.
My heart might have skipped a tiny, totally cliche beat at the sight of Fang leaning on the fender of his shiny, sleek black car. His hands had drifted, as usual, into the front pockets of his jeans, and his hair hung in his dark eyes. When I descended to the sidewalk he shoved off, loping to my side.
His fingers brushed mine for a second too long as he pried the hefty bag from my grip, slinging it over his own shoulder. His gaze lingered on mine before he turned and chucked my things into the back seat, meeting resistance from nothing else as it slid across the smooth leather.
When he turned to look back at me his eyebrow was raised, and his obsidian eyes seemed to ask whether or not that was all I had. I nodded in response, ducking into the passenger seat when he graciously opened the door for me.
Not long after that we pulled away from Nudge's apartment, her waving figure growing smaller until it turned into nothing but a tiny speck. Then we turned a corner and she completely vanished. It was about then that I realized I was officially going to be living on my own. No parental figures, even as trashed as my mother had been, anywhere in sight. It was every eighteen year old's dream. I couldn't help but figure in how lonely I was probably going to be, though.
The car ride was completely silent after that, other than the radio pulsing with static at a low volume in the background. At some point Fang had disengaged one of his hands from the wheel, wrapping it around mine. It didn't occur in the slightest to me to pull away. Even after everything that had happened, simple things like this were too much of an instinct between him and I to find uncomfortable.
That didn't mean I fully trusted him, but I was learning. If I could somewhat forgive my mother after everything she had put our family through, then surely I could extend the same chance to Fang over what was mostly just a gigantic misunderstanding.
"Here we are," he murmured, the soothing sound of his voice low and smooth. He parked fluidly in front of the tall brick building, behind a flashy red car; its paint job disguising the old model.
The newly paved walkway led to a wrought iron gate, glistening onyx in the mid afternoon sun. I pushed through, and it swung shut without a sound behind Fang. I offered to take my bags from him, but he refused. Normally I would have insisted, but meh; let him do all the work. It didn't hurt me any.
Mounting the steps I once again marveled at how nice the entire establishment was. A strand of ivy clung to the bricks, riding high up the wall. The red and brown shone dully in comparison. All in all, for how well kept the building was, the price I was able to rent my apartment at was what one would consider a steal.
Inside, the small lobby-like area was barren of any people. Free from interruptions I headed immediately for the elevators, pressing the button for the fifth floor as soon as Fang was at my side. The doors slid shut, and I swallowed thickly. I'd probably be taking the stairs more from here on out. My nerves couldn't take so many closed spaces.
"Do you have the key?" Fang inquired once we were safely out of that metal contraption, and walking down the padded hallway.
"Yeah," I replied, fishing around in my pocket until my fingers came in contact with the cold surface of the key. I pulled it out just as we reached my new apartment. I fit the key easily into the lock, listening for the tell-tale click as I twisted it. The door swung smoothly in front of me, and I stepped over the threshold.
The space before me wasn't completely devoid of possessions. I had gone shopping the week before, albeit a bit stingily. I didn't want to blow all the money I had saved up from the gymnastics competition. Thus I was accommodating myself with the barest essentials. Nothing spectacular, just normal things you'd find in a home. Once I got a real, stable job and was making enough money to live by I'd decorate a little better. For now though, it was up to Max's taste and standard only.
Fang's sudden presence behind me made me jump, as I realized he had wandered back from disposing of my things in the small bedroom. I scowled as I turned to face him, prepared to scold him for sneaking around like that. His smirk made me bite my tongue though, because I knew that's what he was anticipating me to do.
"So you're all set then?" he asked, pushing a strand of dark blond hair behind my ear as it unraveled itself from my pony tail. His fingers didn't leave my skin, tiptoeing down my jaw and onto my neck.
"I think so, yeah," I responded, my breath catching as he moved closer, the palm of his other hand flattening against the small of my back. I drifted closer to him, curling the fabric of his typically black t-shirt between my nails.
"Good," he whispered, his breath fanning out onto my face. Our lips touched briefly before I spun out of his grasp, dancing out if his reach. He mock growled, but I stayed persistently at arms length.
Eventually our games subsided, and I plopped onto the couch. After a few minutes he gravitated there as well, pulling me to him so that my cheek pressed against his shoulder. His fingers tapped all along my arm for some time after that, silence filling the empty spaces around us. Surprisingly enough, he was the one to break it.
"I told my parents."
I froze, his words having quite an affect under the current circumstances.
"They weren't very happy," he continued, after my baffled silence ran on.
Still, I couldn't find the words to contribute.
"They kind of . . . kicked me out."
Now that little tidbit of information kind of had the desired effect.
"They what?" I deadpanned, sufficiently gobsmacked. I'm sure my jaw was swinging to the floor at this point. I mean, I can imagine they would be a bit put off by their son's decision to be with me . . . but to go as far as forcing their beloved child onto the streets? That I would never have seen coming.
"I don't even care. I'd rather do that then go along with their stupid games any longer. We both saw how well that worked out last time," he insisted, pressing his lips to my hair. I relaxed minutely at the gesture.
"Yeah, but . . . what about the money? Isn't that the whole reason you went along with their stupid Lissa thing anyway?" I demanded, my brow furrowing under this new insight.
"Max, I've been siphoning money out of their account for me since the day I turned eighteen and had access to it. Not a lot at one time. They'd get suspicious then. But enough. They just kept putting more in, filling the holes. God knows what they thought I was buying," he scoffed, tightening his grip on me.
"Where did you put the money after you took it?"
"A different account. Under my name. They had no idea it existed. That is until I transferred the entire amount of theirs to it, then told them I was in love with you; that I had always been in love with you and would continue to be in love with you for the rest of my life."
I'm guessing that's about when the shit hit the fan.
"What a romantic gesture," I teased, elbowing him in the ribs. I twisted my head around to face him, smiling at the barely concealed twinkle in his now molten eyes. I brushed my lips against his in a soft kiss, producing a crooked smile out of him.
"Yeah. That's just the kind of guy I am," he replied sarcastically, pulling me back for another, much more lingering kiss.
"So where are you going to stay, then?" I mumbled when we separated, running my fingers through his dark hair.
"I don't know. Probably with Iggy. His parents didn't like mine that much anyway. I'm sure they'll be more than willing to let me stay after they hear what they did."
I bit my lip, hesitating before my next words. "Well . . . you know, you could always just stay here. I could use a roommate to relieve some of that rent pressure and all."
Too much time was passing as I waited for his response, and I couldn't help but worry that I had said the wrong thing.
"Do you want me to stay here?" he finally asked, something unidentifiable in his tone. I raised my eyebrows as I shifted, pulling my legs up to rest under my chin so that I was facing the side of his profile. He tilted his head back to look at me.
"Would I have offered if I didn't want you to?" I retorted, pointing out what should have been the obvious.
And that's how I got my first roommate . . . who also happened to be my boyfriend.
Upon agreeing to let Fang live here though, I didn't anticipate him being . . . gone . . . so much. It reminded me of when he was sneaking around behind my back to please his parents; so forgive a girl for getting her guard up, but his behavior was just, again, becoming too suspicious to ignore.
So imagine my surprise when, a few weeks later, he came stumbling into the apartment at two in the morning with a busted lip, an already darkening bruise along his jaw, and a profusely bleeding cut across his forehead.
I doubt someone like Lissa could have done such damage, so that theory was out the window, at least.
"Fang!" I exclaimed in shock, jumping to my feet. The muted glow of the television wasn't quite enough to see by, so I automatically flicked the overhead light on, my retinas searing at the sudden brightness. "What happened to you?"
He just groaned in response, looking even more haggard in the light. Ignoring me he shuffled to the bathroom, wincing as he glanced in the mirror. I watched from a safe distant for about . . . say, two point five seconds before I intervened.
I gripped his bicep, tugging him away from the sink. As gently as I could I nudged him until he complied to sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Not saying anything -for the time being- I rifled around in the medicine cabinet. After gathering all my supplies I set out to cleaning the cut on his forehead, pressing a bandage to it when I was done. He watched me silently as I worked, never wincing in the slightest as I tended to his assorted wounds.
When I was finished I stepped back, placing my hands on my hips as I narrowed my eyes at him. Not saying anything I waited for his confession, knowing that my stance was demanding an explanation. After a moment of staring at his callused hands he sighed, meeting my gaze blankly.
"Well . . .?" I prodded, cocking my head to the side.
"I had a fight," he said shortly, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. Yawning he checked his watch. Ha. Like he was getting out of this anytime soon. I didn't care how tired he was. He was going to elaborate whether he wanted to or not.
"Well obviously," I stated, rolling my eyes. "Why did you get into a fight with someone? And more importantly, who did you get into a fight with?"
Only when I saw the resigned look in his eyes did I realize he might not have been talking about some random scuffle.
"Can't we talk about this in the morning? As you can see, I've kind of had a rough night." He gestured to himself, coming to a towering stand. Moving to exit the bathroom, I slid to block his advances, barring the doorway resolutely.
"Are you . . . street fighting again?" I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest.
Another heavy exhale blew past his lips, and it was all the unspoken answer I needed.
"Are you crazy? Why would you do that? When did you start doing that?" There were too many questions I needed answered directly, and not enough commitment to the topic of conversation from Fang.
"Look, relax," he commanded softly, tugging my elbows so that my arms loosened and unfolded from their place across my chest. "It's not that big of a deal."
"Like hell it isn't! When did you start street fighting again?" I asked persistently, not caving to his means to distract me.
He closed his eyes, rubbing his temple before lacing my fingers in his. "After you left. I needed something to channel my frustration into. It was easier to fall back into old habits. Fighting is fighting. They were more than happy to have me return."
"Why didn't you stop when I came back then?"
"I have to finish what I started," he insisted tiredly.
"No, actually, you don't. It's really very easy. All you do is not go back, and then BAM! You're retired from street fighting again. No worries. No life threatening situations or chances to get seriously hurt." I could hear the edge coming into my voice, and I knew he sensed it as well.
Suddenly I was enveloped in his arms, my face smashed against his hard chest. I lifted my head, looking up at him through my eyelashes. He dropped a kiss on my forehead, then my nose, and finally my mouth.
"I'm not going to get hurt. Trust me."
Trust . . . funny how that always came back to bite you.
Author's Note: I shall now give you some smartie credits that you guys deserve. I've pretty much had this entire story planned out before I actually began writing anything, so the fact that you all were predicting things at earlier stages that I hadn't even begun to introduce yet , is pretty darn genius-like. The whole Fang street fighting again is only one of the numerous twists some of you have managed to weedle out.
Speaking of: opinions on how this could possibly turn out? I'm interested to see what you come up with, and how many of you are accurate. SO, um, REVIEW! Thanks (:
P.S. Best book and/or piece of FF work you've read so far this summer?