Soulmate (Cameron Dallas/ Nash Grier/ Matthew Espinosa/ Hayes Grier)

Chapter 98

2 more??!? The song in this chapter is Nobody Like You by Little Mix.
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My eyelashes separate, each blink focusing my blurry vision onto the low ceiling above me. I roll onto my side, the hard floor unmoving, and peer up to the bed where I left him sleeping alone last night. There was a shred hope for him moving me back to the bed, as he did that very first Magcon, but I guess times have changed. He pouts his lip, as if even in his sleep, he dreams of being angry at me. I sigh, pulling the small blanket over my face. I hate this. This hazing is slowly seeping into my skin, crushing my bones from the inside and sending the shards piercing through my heart. It burns, it physically burns, to have him look at me so differently. His eyes, the blue eyes that once lit up when they saw me, darken to a cloudy grey on sight. They're guarded, and for once, I'm unable to break through.

I hear him shift above me, and I slowly peel back the blanket, welcoming the fresh air. He rubs his eyes, stretching out his arms and letting his muscles contract. He looks to his side, and I can't see his facial expression when he realizes I'm not there. I'm not sure if I want to. He sits up suddenly, looking around the room until his eyes land on me. I freeze, unsure what to do, and I can tell he feels the same way.

"Good morning," I croak out, wanting nothing more than to slide back under my cover.

"Morning," he says quietly, his bare chest rising and falling steadily.

I tear my eyes away from him and sit up, looking down at my knees.

"You didn't have to sleep down there," he tells me, and I look up at him.

"Yes I did. You shouldn't have to sleep next to me," I say, terrified of holding his gaze for more than a second at a time.

"Well I guess it's a good thing this is our last event," he says, climbing out of bed.

I know he doesn't intend for the statement to be hurtful, but my heart still sinks down to my stomach. I watch him disappear into the bathroom, and I let out the breath that I didn't realize I was holding in. Does he really mean that? Does he not want to see me ever again? My shoulders slump. I despise this. I despise myself.

"Hey." I look up, and Hayes is standing over me. "You okay?"

I shake my head no.

"He'll come around."

"When? When I leave Sunday? Out of sight, out of mind," I say in defeat, my eyes studying the frayed carpet.

"He can't last that long without you, you know that, right?"

"I thought I did. Now I'm not so sure. Now I took him for granted, thinking that he'd stay with me through anything and everything. I was wrong, and I don't blame him," I tell him, my head finding its way to the palms of my hands.

I hear the shower turn off and stand, composing myself.

"Maybe it's for the best that this is the last show. Maybe he needs to forget me."

***

Noise. So much noise. The screams of the crowd all blur together, yet I swear they're all saying different words. My head is pounding as I lie on the couch backstage, my legs on top of Hayes's. I know he's desperate to ask if I'm okay again, and I can see him deciding against it.

"I'm fine," I tell him.

"You don't look fine."

"I'm just nervous."

He looks at me skeptically, but thankfully, decides not to challenge me. I focus on Shawn's voice emanating through the speaker, his smooth voice countering the banging in my head. How am I supposed to go out there and face all of those people? Do they know what I did? Do they care? I try to get my mind off of my incessant thoughts, but they burst through the walls I keep building.