Smash!

•T W E N T Y•

Riley's POV

Lying on my side, I glare at the empty spot in next to me. I feel like complete shit. I've never liked myself; what I do to get by, the way I treat people, but after tonight I hate myself. Despite washing away the grime and dried blood, I feel filthy from head to toe, covered in my own guilt and karma. My heart dully aches like there's a splinter wedged in it, each shameful beat making me wince.

Jamie is sleeping on the couch. I've had that conversation with a ton of other girls, and Jamie responded the best. Different girls that I've slept with, or just crashed at—or both, have screamed at me, cried at my feet, or thrown me out. But Jamie, she just stood there and took it. Took all my defensive rupture. All she did was care, and I imploded.

I haven't had a good night's slept in a week, but tonight I can't even manage to keep my eyes shut for a solid minute. I fucked up. Screw this, I can't bare this any longer. Groaning in pain, I heft my sore body off the bed, making sure to grab a pillow. Dragging the blue comforter on the floor behind me with the pillow tucked under my arm, I carefully navigate through the tiny apartment in the dark. In just three steps I'm on the other side of the dark apartment.

Jamie's red locks hanging over the edge of couch are easy to spot in the dark. I have a bad urge to reach out, and run my fingers through her fiery hair. Squinting my eyes through the dark, I see a sad sight that makes me feel go still. Jamie uncomfortably lies awake on her back, her freckled face knotted up in a devastated expression, her green eyes boring up into the ceiling as if looking for salvation. My stomach churns at how miserable she looks. Dropping down to the cold floor next to the couch, I lean my busted up back against the sofa, and try to get comfortable. I attempt to make a makeshift bed, by tucking the pillow between my head and the couch, and covering myself up with the comforter.

"I'm an asshole, aren't I?"

"Pretty much." She quietly says under her breath.

"I'm sorry I was such a bastard, Jaime." She's still deadly silent. "I shouldn't have exploded like that. I'm aware of that. I... I just wanted you to give me some space, and freaked." I take advantage of her silence, and lay it all out on the table.

"Did you mean what you said?" She quietly asks, not looking down at me.

"Most of it. I wouldn't have said it to just be a prick. I don't say things just to talk. I try to mean everything I say." I confirm, feeling a rush of nerves, the unsettling kind you get when you peer over a cliff. "This is the way I am, this is how my life is. Sporadic comings and goings, late nights, different places. No, it's not ideal—yeah, it's flawed, but that's how I live."

"What you're saying is, that you want to crash here like it's a motel. You get to choose when you're in my life, but I don't get to know you?" My heart falls to the floor, my stomach tightening up, and threatening to give in a hurl. She makes this sound so much worse than it's suppose to. This is the modern arrangement for twenty somethings. No commitment, no long term thing, nothing serious or long lasting. We're suppose to have passionate no-talking sex, hangout for the heck of it, and continue on with our own lives. Why is this such a difficult thing with Jamie?

"Riley," She peaks over the edge to look down at me, her freckled chin resting on her pillow. "Why do I have to trust you, when you don't trust me?"

My mouth dries up at Jamie's quiet words. She's right. Jamie is absolutely right. She doesn't know the person she's letting in, because I won't let her.

"Who I am—what I do, is ugly. I'm a clusterfuck, Jamie. A clusterfuck living in a disaster." I give one last warning. Her green eyes bore into my bruised ones. She's not hesitating, she's not rejecting me. "I went to New York. I was beaten up by a horde of pissed off entitled fuckboys." I come clean. Green eyes flicking over my torn up face, she searches my face like she's looking for a lying tell.

"When are you leaving me again?" She whispers, her freckled face contorting into a pained look.

"When I have to." I answer honestly. Her green eyes fill up with every sad emotion; sadness, grief, agony, loneliness, sorrow, and more. "But not soon." I add. Now she just looks tired, tired of this draining housemate.

"I'll tell you when I leave, and I'll come back, Jamie. I'll come back to you. Every time." I do something I never do, I make a promise. I hate promises; they're hopes, they're binding, they're a commitment. Her freckled face softens a bit. I can tell she's trying to keep a straight face, struggling with trusting me.

"Don't make me prove me wrong about trusting you." She states.

"I won't." With a soft grin that lifts my spirits up high, Jamie lets this incident end. She lowers back down to fall asleep. My head lowers against my positioned pillow. I feel tons better, literally tons. It's as if tons of damaging feelings are gone from my soul. I don't just feel relieved, I feel content.

"Are you going to sleep on the floor all night?" She pipes up.

"Yeah, I think I've earned this."

"Riley, don't sleep on the floor." I hear her pat the sofa cushion. "Come up here." Ignoring the excited rush in my abdominal and my chest, I collect myself off the floor.

"Incoming." I jokingly warn as I drop next to her. I enfold us in the comforter like a cocoon.
It's a tight fit for both of us on the couch, I'm already toppling off the edge towards the floor. In an effort for more space, I enclose my arms around her, clutching her lower back and shoulders. Jamie buries her redhead into the crock my neck, her lips tickling my bruised skin. We're flush together, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I forgot how good she feels against me when I was in New York.

I missed her. I missed Jamie a lot.

A/N:

I've been imagining this scene FOREVER. This scene motivated me to write out this book, and it felt great doing it!

This has to be my favorite chapter so far ☺️