I slide the key into the lock, trying my hardest not to make a sound. Holding my breath as the tumblers click and with the steadiest hand I can manage I turn the doorknob. Please don't creak, please don't creak. The last thing I need is to alert Dastan and Zia that I'm coming home at two in the morning. Especially, since neither of them are aware that I left in the first place.
Since Saturday I've been spending every night, or as much of the night as I can, at Connors place. He thinks I'm just not comfortable staying with Dastan because of the hostility between us and I'm always back before Dastan wakes up so he doesn't know. I know I shouldn't, that it's probably giving Connor the wrong idea about what's going on between us but I'd rather deal with that than face whatever it is that's been going on between Dastan and I. It's strange, you would think that as much as he's claimed to despise me he'd be openly nasty and antagonistic, instead he's been nothing short of pleasant. He's considerate and thoughtful and I know it's probably only because I've been helping him with Zia. But my foolish little heart can't comprehend that. Now every time he so much as breathes in my direction my heart tries to make a mad dash out of my chest.
This isn't fair. I hate that after all these years he still has that kind of power over me. I tiptoe into the entry way, everything's dark. Now all I have to do is make it up to my room and I'm home free. I turn toward the stairs and almost fly straight out of my skin.
Sitting in a pale beam of moonlight filtering in through the hallways lone window is Dastan. He's seated on the fourth step, his elbows resting on his knees and his head hanging low. I can't see his face but something tells me he's not too happy. "Christ! You scared the crap out me!" I whisper shout, still conscious of the fact that Zia is upstairs sleeping. He ignores my outburst.
"Where have you been?" his voice is quiet. So low I have to strain to hear it. I'm not sure how to answer, so I don't. I just stand there, mute. Shifting from foot to foot like the anxiety ridden mess that I am. "Is there a reason you're sneaking into the house like a kid that stayed out past curfew?"
When I still don't respond he looks up and my breath stalls in my throat. His sable eyes hone in on my features, I'm not sure what he's seeing but it's only making him angrier. His expression growing darker by the second. There's something venomous in his stare that has my heart kicking up its rhythm and my breaths becoming more shallow. He looks ready to go to battle; confrontational. "I just needed some air." I say in an attempt to elude any more drama. The last thing I want is to start a war.
"You needed air for six hours?" his eyebrow hikes higher on his forehead and I have to bite back a curse. So, he knows. Alright, maybe if I just come clean we can both walk away without the fight.
I take a fortifying breath, "I was out with a friend," I'm not exactly sure why I don't want him to know I was with Connor. It's not like he doesn't know we're together, sort of, but it just doesn't feel right talking to him about it. He's, obviously, aware that I spent the night with Connor. Maybe, it's because I'm running from whatever I'm feeling for him and using Connor as a literal human shield between us but I just feel dirty thinking of it when Dastan's around. The apology is on the tip of my tongue, as I'm about to mumble the words and hope for the best; he scoffs.
I hear the derision in his tone. My hands ball into fists in response, the nerve of him. Why is he treating me like a kid. I haven't done anything wrong, his contempt for my relationship with Connor aside, I have nothing to apologize for. I bite into the fleshy part of my cheek to stop myself from telling him as much. "If we're done here, I'm going to bed." I take all of one step forward, it puts me within arms reach of him, and a thrill shoots down my spine. I've always enjoyed the hint of unpredictability being with Dastan offered. I never quite know how he's going to react, the excitement used to be intoxicating. Perhaps, that's part of the problem with us or maybe it's just that we're both messed up. Either way, it's exhilarating and being this close to him when he has that vicious look in his eyes does something interesting to my body.
"We aren't done here." He says, his voice a sharp knifes edge. His eyebrows bunch together as if he's concentrating on not losing his temper. He takes a few measured breaths, releasing them slowly and I watch as his massive shoulders rise and fall with deliberate movements. "How often have you been doing this?" It sounds more like an accusation than a question to my ears and I feel my own shoulder stiffening in response. My blood beats hot beneath my skin, rushing forward as I'm preparing for the fight that will inevitably follow.
"That's none of your business." I try to keep my tone civil but still convey a stern disapproval at his inquisitiveness. I owe him no answers on what I do in my free time. Even if I still feel obligated to be honest with him, I don't deserve to be treated like some disobedient child.
"The hell it isn't!" he shouts and seems to catch himself the next moment. He looks toward the landing on the second floor and we both hold out breath and wait to see if we've woken Zia. When she doesn't stir he turns back to me. "You're a guest in my house," he reminds me. I almost snort, almost, but I know that won't go over well. In the best of moods Dastan is a prickly little shit, grumpy and moody and full of disdain for everything and everyone. Today, is not the day to test his control over his temper.
"No, I'm a guest in your parent's house." I shoot back before he can go on, "And last I checked I'm here, as a favor to your dad, to help you take care of Zia. Anything I do outside of that is none of your business." It feels like a lie.
He clenches his jaw and I watch as he seems to wrestle his temper under control. I'm not even sure what he's so angry about. "Alright then," he says in a tight voice and gives one sharp nod. Okay, that was easier than I expected. I breath a soft sigh of relief and the tension drains out of my body. "Have you eaten at all today?"
What? "What does that have to do with anything?" I try to stop it from sounding too abrasive. He must read the confusion in my expression because he starts to explain.
"You didn't eat at all today, so after I put Zia to bed I came to check if you wanted dinner." He runs a hand through his hair and for the first time I notice how disheveled he actually appears. His hair messy as if he's been running his hands through it repeatedly, his shirt rumpled with creases. "You weren't in your room, or anywhere else in the house. I know you have those episodes so I wasn't sure if you'd gone out or if you were in trouble."
My throat constricts at the sincere worry I see lining his eyes. I'm an awful person. Here I am picking a fight with him and he was concerned about my well-being. I didn't think he knew about the episodes so I figured even if I did disappear he wouldn't think much of it. In hindsight, I can see that I was wrong. "Imagine my surprise," he goes on, his voice growing harder. "When I called Emma stressed out of my mind thinking you'd run off into the city completely dissociated and she tells me your location shows you're at Connors house." He sneers at the name.
Crap. I don't know what to say. I stand there frozen for a moment. He continues to watch me, whatever emotions cross over his features I can't decipher them. He's like a vault, I can't figure him out. So instead I decide to answer his first question. "No, I haven't eaten yet." I shrug, "It must have slipped my mind."
He shakes his head disapprovingly, "Figures your little boyfriend would forget to feed you," and for some reason I feel like a child that's just disappointed their dad. I see the insinuation he's making about my relationship with Connor. I want to defend Connor to tell him that he isn't like that but I can't form the words. "I left you a plate in the microwave." He informs me while getting to his feet, "You'll have to heat it up again, though." He gives me one more probing look before turning on his heels and going upstairs.
I stand there with all the words I want to say to him lodged in my throat. What am I supposed to do with that? He was worried about me? Worried enough to call Emma to check on my whereabouts, apparently. While, I was off hiding from my feelings with Connor, he was here afraid that I was in danger. I truly am a vile excuse for a human being.