Caught In Your Chaos ✓

Chapter Eighty

The sound of the apartment door closing bolted me out of my nap. I peered through the bedroom window. It was still raining and pitch dark outside. Light footfalls in the living room conveyed Jake's arrival. Unless there was someone else having his house keys, it had to be him.

I sat up, running a hand through my hair, and swung my legs over the side. My laptop had run out of charge, so I plugged it in and set it on the bedside table. There were still syllabi to cover for my desired grades. I couldn't have gotten more sleep to feel like myself again. I pulled Jake's flannel over my tank top and adjusted the collar. The hangover had finally retired from my body, and another feeling crept in. Jake had returned, and I was still there in his place. Even worse, I was in his bedroom, tangled up in his sheets and dressed up in his shirt.

Shaking off the embarrassment, I stood up and tied my hair in a messy bun before leaving the room. I decided to stay because I couldn't shake off Jake's beaten-up face from the last fight. He certainly needed someone to take care of him, and after he helped me last night, I owed him one. I could leave if he didn't need my help, or I could occupy the guest bedroom if he did.

The living area was dark and eerily quiet. The occasional thunderclaps were the only sound in the apartment. As I padded my way to the kitchen, I saw Jake leaning against the kitchen counter with his back facing me. The white t-shirt he wore stuck to his taut body. Jake appeared drenched from top to bottom, and his shoulder muscles flexed with each of his labored breaths. I wondered how much he had hurt himself. Suppressing the urge to rush over and hug his back, I headed towards the fridge swallowing the dryness in my throat, my heart hammered in my chest. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked past him. I watched him from the corner of my eyes as he straightened and turned towards me, his hip against the counter.

I pulled out the carton of Orange juice. An awkward silence lingered between us, almost unbearable to resist having a conversation. It was much easier to talk when I was drugged, but now that we shared the same air, I didn't know how to initiate it. I picked up two glasses from the cabinet and set them on the counter.

My cheeks heated up, feeling his eyes on every inch of my exposed skin as he calculated my every move. The uneven rhythm of his breathing explained his post-fight condition. The clouds roared outside, making me shudder a little while I poured the juice into our glasses. Some of it spilled on the counter, and a curse slipped past my lips. Jake hadn't moved from his place, he just stood against the island across from me, and a memory of him staring at me during the classes or parties flashed in my mind. It was kind of creepy, but I liked how attentive he was around me.

I wiped off the island with a washcloth and cleaned my hand in the sink. All the while, I was very much aware of his eyes following my movements. I finished filling up both the glasses and finally willed myself to walk up to him. I stepped towards the counter where he was leaning and placed the glass in front of him, barely looking at his face. The bandages around his knuckles were wet and bloodied as he ran them through his hair. A curly strand fell on his forehead just above the scar that marked his white skin. But as the lights were still off, I couldn't see much except his face. I took in the bruise on his right cheek, just under his eyes and his busted lips before his intense gaze locked with mine. I quickly looked away, unable to register the unknown emotion playing behind his eyes that almost stopped my heart.

He stayed rooted in his place, his eyes on me, as I took my place across from him. Needles pricked the back of my neck as I lifted the glass of orange juice to my lips, swallowing it down fast, and I had only managed two gulps when he was there behind me. Our bodies weren't touching, but I could feel his warm breath against my ear. He took the glass from my hand and sipped the whole content, setting it down on the counter.