He was the boy on campus everyone strayed from. His looks, his demeanor, his everything was always so dark and formidable. Is there a possibility anyone can change him, or is that who he will be for the rest of his life? Stuck with nameless women, e...
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Steele's point of view
⇋ I woke up Saturday at one in the afternoon, I think. Who fucking knows. I've been laying here for about an hour now, just staring at the ceiling and trying to process shit. I don't even know what shit on the list to start processing first though.
I think I woke up in a mood because Fleur wanted to go back to her apartment last night. If she would've stayed over here, I'd be feeling better, but I can't really be mad at her. It's her freshman year and her first round of finals and I know how serious she wants to take her tests. Though she should know that she's fucking studied enough in the last week alone that she could probably recite all five of her textbooks word for word from memory alone, both frontwards and backwards.
Through every thing she's gone through this semester, she's still able to shut it all out long enough to study. I don't know how she does it. I go through half of what I went through last fucking year and somehow I can't fucking stop thinking for even a second. My conscious must finally be developing or some shit. I honestly wish it would stop. I miss not having a conscious.
And I really don't want to go to this dumbass fucking party later. Especially not with Hope tagging along. I don't know what she's up to with apologizing to Fleur after vindictively blurting out that I fucked her, but I don't like it. The timing is weird as fuck.
I just wish Fleur could come over here tonight, and we'd stay in, and we could binge watch a few more episodes of my show after getting whatever take out food she could possibly want. She could rest her head on the middle of my chest. I'd hold her the way I wanted to last night. She'd kiss my jaw and I'd somehow get way too horny from a single kiss. But no. Because I just had to blow up on her at the slightest indication of her judgement.
Fuck, I know I shouldn't have gotten so pissy with her yesterday, but I didn't want to tell her about all of that shit yet. It's fucking embarrassing and I wanted to tell her about what I do for work on my own terms... Like maybe in a few months or a year or some shit. I just hope she's not still upset with me for how I reacted. Surely she would've uninvited me tonight if she was still unhappy. Not that I would listen, but she would've said something by now.
I should probably check my phone to see if she's texted.
I rolled over onto my side to go for my phone that's resting in the place where Fleur should currently be. I turned the device on to check my notifications from the past hour to surprisingly find a text from Fleur asking how I'm feeling. There shouldn't be butterflies in my gut from an individual, simplistic, bare minimum, electronic fucking message, but there are. I'm sure the shock of seeing her name along with a text icon is like a field overflowing with pollen to those butterflies. She never texts me, let alone texts me first.
I messaged back, using my left thumb to type "missing you." I would've said so much more had I been able to use my right thumb like normal.
I know she saw how my hand is doing yesterday when I was throwing my fit. I wish she wouldn't have, but it's not like I can do anything about it now that she's seen that it's as infected as it is. Except for maybe go to a doctor, but I fucking refuse. I'm not going until I actually feel like I fucking need to. The entire purpose of white blood cells is to fight off infections and I'm nearly positive that I have enough of them to do that job so they should just fucking do it.
