Finding Obsidian

46 - Gone

I'd left Adrian's office the second his story had ended, my mind spinning.

A cigarette stub? That was what had done this to us?

I could barely believe it. My guilt had been monstrous, but I had no idea what Rian must have gone through, thinking that I blamed him all those years.

I didn't blame him, though. And he didn't blame me. The past three years had been one enormous, destructive misunderstanding. What were we doing?

Now I stood in front of his door, fighting back a wave of . . . something. The spare key I'd stolen dug into my palm, my grip on it betraying weeks of anxiety suddenly unleashed.

My vision was blurry. It took me a minute to realize unshed tears had snuck up on me at some point, dangerously ready to fall. I scowled, trying to blink them back, and lifted the key to the lock.

Click.

My scowl transformed into a frown when the door swung open, with no help from me. The key in my hand still hovered in the air, except now it was subject to two pairs of eyes rather than one.

"I'm not even surprised," Rian muttered, eyeing the stolen key. "That went missing weeks ago. Should've known it was you."

He adjusted a strap on his shoulder, and my already cold body froze anew when I saw it was attached to a duffel bag, stuffed full with his belongings.

He'd packed quickly.

I will not let it happen again.

I placed a hand flat on his chest, slender fingers spreading against hard muscle. He seemed to tense involuntarily, or at least do something close to it. He glanced down at where my palm made contact.

For a moment, I just savoured the touch. The warmth of him.

Then I shoved him back inside. 

He stumbled only a step backwards, but it was enough for me to walk in and shut the door behind me. "What the hell?" he snapped, glaring at me. "Get out of my way."

I simply stared back at him. "I heard you and Adrian the other day."

He stiffened, his brow furrowing. "What?"

"After we . . ." I trailed off. "The dogs. Prof was angry about the dogs and after he left Adrian had a chat with you and he called you a casanova or whatever, and—"

As I spoke, Rian's expression steadily drained of anger. In its place was a careful neutrality, the kind of face you wore when you wanted to gauge how much someone knew about something they shouldn't.

"Casanova?" he replied cautiously. I scowled, and a moment's regret flashed across his face. That wasn't the best place to start, and he knew it.

"Yeah, that. And a lot of other things." I cast my eyes to the couch where I'd hidden, pointing a finger. "I was under there. I heard everything. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Rian's eyed the place my finger was aimed, quiet shock passing over his face. He didn't say anything, so I continued.

"Rian, I wasn't—I didn't—" I stumbled over my words, trying to collect my thoughts. "I'm sorry I didn't know. I had no idea things were like that for you. I know what that guilt is like, and—god. I'm so, so sorr—"

"Stop," Rian interrupted sharply, "apologizing."

I fell silent.

He adjusted the strap on his shoulder, taking in a deep breath. I gnawed on my bottom lip. I was trying to say something, but the words just weren't coming out the way I wanted them to.