Project Apollo: Book Two ✔️

Chapter Eleven

Jason Archer

That kiss wasn't nothing.

It was the next afternoon, and I was still thinking about it. I thought about how it had been so hard to slip back into friend mode from fake-boyfriend mode. The moment Apollo addressed Marcus, I felt an annoying nag in the back of my brain. Apollo told me how much he couldn't stand him. He called constantly. Created numbers with apps to try and get in touch with him. He recently changed his number to get rid of him. Then he shows up.

Apollo thought he'd been free of Marcus and his constant taunting. I wanted to help him. He'd been volunteering to spend time with me–making sure I didn't feel left out. Telling me he wanted to make sure he took our friendship seriously. I thought the idea of Apollo being in a seemingly committed relationship would help. I half thought Apollo would shove me away and decline my help

And then he didn't.

No, he pulled me closer, and I had to prevent myself from thinking about how stupidly safe it felt to be curled up against him. Over the last few days, I learned so much about Apollo, and my brain decided we found him warm. I shouldn't have involved myself in his business. Because now I didn't know how to look him in the eye without playing out our kiss in the third person. I saw it every time those brown eyes met mine.

I was too broken to think more about the kiss. I was. Apollo didn't need to deal with my darkness. More than that, today, Apollo seemed...a little down. Axton mentioned his depression, and sadly, I knew the beginning signs of when it started to appear. I think something with Marcus triggered it. His exhaustion over it. I didn't blame him, but I didn't want to see him upset.

I didn't know what the protocol was in this house for his beginning signs of depression. But when I glanced out of my open door–Apollo's room was right there. Across from mine. His door was open. I knew he was watching TV right now, and no one was in there. They were scattered around the house–decorating. Tomorrow, Val asked us to decorate the yard. Today, it was inside. She ran out of jobs for Apollo and me and said we could rest.

Apollo was her baby–I knew it. Well, all of them were, honestly. But I think she knew Apollo was starting to slip. She wanted to give him time to figure out how to handle it. Or whatever he did when he started getting low. Jesus. I wanted to claw Marcus's throat out and then shove it in his mouth. I knew Apollo didn't love Marcus, but I also knew he was tired of dealing with him.

Frowning, I put my foot on the floor as I stared across the hallway. I had intended to read, but I was concerned about Apollo while also thinking about that hot fucking kiss. Jesus. I couldn't relive it too much otherwise I would scare myself into a loop of loving how good it was, and feeling terrified because of my trauma. Loved that for me. Truly.

Still, I hopped off the bed and crept across the hallway anyway. I poked my head around the door frame, seeing him sitting on top of his blankets with one arm tucked behind his head. I ran my gaze over his form–for science, of course. Not because he...no. I couldn't...go there. Not...I couldn't. He needed a friend, and I had to remember I was a broken piece of glass that was no longer whole. What would he do with me?

I glanced at the TV and hiked a brow when I saw the show playing. "Supernatural?" I took a step inside the room. I felt his attention flash to me. It burned into me. "Decided to see the origins of your model car?"

"Oh." He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I was curious."

"Scoot over." I wanted to help him, and even though I knew he could do without my endless facts, and talking–I didn't know what else to do. He moved to the other side of the bed, which I was thankful for. I didn't want to be the one near the mirror. "Oh, episode two!" I sat next to him, resting my head against the headboard–staring at the TV so I didn't do something stupid like look at him. "Do you like it so far?"