𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 | ✓

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩 𝟐𝟖

I halt, turning on my heel at the door, facing him. I take a deep breath in, before hesitantly making my way back over to his bed.

I don't know what to say, so I'm glad he's got his head in his phone while I search for a conversation starter.

My eyes suddenly catch a glimpse of his fist as he scrolls on his phone. It's definitely healed since then, but it's still visible.

The curiosity grows in me again as the events of that night come back over me. "Did you-" the words slip out of my mouth, but before I could shake it off, he turns his attention to me, his eyes narrowing slightly, and I could sense his curiosity growing.

"Did you kill him too?" I question, my voice ever so quiet and hesitant. I don't even know if I want to know the answer, but it's a start to the thousand other questions I have for him.

His eyes study my face. I half expected him to get angry, or brush it off, but his expression stays soft.

He slowly shakes his head, his eyes fixed on mine. "No," he replies firmly, "I didn't kill him." his tone gentle and quiet. He then turns his attention back to his phone, but I don't think he's even paying attention to it.

"He deserved it, Vivienne, they both did." He suddenly admits, his voice thick, still not looking up at me. Almost like he feels a little guilty.

I swallow the knot in my throat, "I know." my voice still low and mumbled as I fiddle with the hem of my shirt in my lap.

I knew the moment the guy had laid his hand on me, that Ryder wasn't going to take it well. He shouldn't have been touching me at all, he should've left me alone.

"I don't tolerate male hands on women, it just does something to me." He admits. I understand what he's saying, I grew up with the 'boys can't hit girls' saying, but I feel like there's something more with him.

"Or any hands on anyone without consent for that matter." As he muttered, But then, something shifted. He looks hurt, maybe a little angry, regretting opening his mouth at all.

He suddenly stands up from his bed, pocketing his phone before turning to me with a dismissive tone. "It's late," he states, "you should get to bed." His words hung in the air, signalling the end of our conversation.

I don't move. I remain seated on his bed, if anything, I get more comfortable. "Ryder, you can talk to me." I say softly, "You know that, right?" My head tilted a little, trying to get his eyes from the wall back on me.

Although the relationship between Ryder and me may not be real, he's still my friend. If I can trust him, he can trust me.

He stares at me from his dresser, almost like he's considering it. "I'm fine, just a little tired." He then makes his way to his bed, laying down on his pillow. As if he's that determined to avoid this conversation, he'll pretend that I'm not even there.

But I can tell he wants to open up, the pain sits in his eyes. The nagging voice in my head, telling me there's more to his story.

I shuffle further up the bed, lying down on the pillow beside him. We both stare at the ceiling in silence. I don't know what it is, but I feel comfortable whenever I'm lying beside Ryder, even when we aren't talking. Just simply being in his company is enough.

After a stretch of silence, listening to the sound of his breathing beside me, I eventually turn my head to look at him. My eyes trace the sharp features of his side profile, as he stares up at the ceiling. "What did you mean by consent?" I ask, my voice quiet and somewhat hoarse from not talking.

His face turns to meet mine, His eyes roaming over my features, studying every inch of my face. He lets out a sudden sigh, his eyes turning back to the ceiling.