Here For You | ✓

chapter thirty-three | the one with the sleepless night

"I figured."

She rolled her eyes. "Then why-" she stopped herself. It was no use. "Are we still going to Elena's exhibition, then?" She asked, unfazed when he bypassed her to move to his room while he uncuffed the cuff links around his wrists.

"She canceled it," he answered over his shoulder.

Her eyes widened-but then again, it was understandable. "Huh..." she blinked back into focus and followed him, leaning on the doorway. She watched him take out his pajamas from the closet, and she worried her bottom lip as a thought flicked the chords of her insecurities.

"Are you mad at me?" She blurted.

His answer was immediate as he took off his blazer, but it was robotic. "No."

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Liar."

He met her eye for the first time since she stepped inside his apartment. She cocked her head, ignoring the sting in her eyes as she stared at him unblinkingly, waiting. He turned his body to fully face her.

"I'm tired, Veronica. I'm not mad at you."

Despite him saying it slowly, almost convincingly, it felt like a punch in the gut. She swallowed when he turned back around.

"I'm going to take a shower," he added, already shutting the bathroom door after him.

Veronica was left in his bedroom with her thoughts and the sound of water running. She felt vulnerable and tiny and unwanted. She loathed every second of it. But she wasn't backing down. She was wrestling with herself, with the voice that had been screaming at her, her whole life, that she was unworthy and an inconvenience.

She wasn't leaving.

Without thinking twice about it, she climbed his bed and lied facing the ceiling, her hair matting the pillows, a wild curly mess on the soft cotton. She felt her stomach twisting in tight, uncomfortable knots the longer he took in the shower. She felt exposed doing this, putting herself up for rejection when she could've left and stayed in the safety of her bedroom instead, away from all of this.

But there was something about the idea of Allen withdrawing that terrified her.

The sound of pouring water started to slowly subdue until it disappeared completely. She heard shuffling and minutes later, the sound of the creaking door handle. Steam crawled out of the bathroom and he got out with a small towel in his hands as he ruffled his damp curls.

He didn't seem surprised to see her lying on his bed. He didn't even flinch or double look. He simply hung his suit in the closet, threw the towel back in the bathroom, and padded his way to the bed. He slid under the sheets, lying on his side facing her, eyelids sealed as he sighed heavily through his nose.

"Are you okay?" She whispered warily and he hummed in response.

She turned to lay facing him as well, her head resting on the back of her forearm. He smelled of soap, hair, and eyelashes wet, cheeks a little flush and it made her feel warm inside.

"Something on your mind?" She probed, voice a gentle breath against his cheek.

"No." His voice was barely a mumble against the pillow. "I told you, I'm tired."

"Why don't I believe you-" She was cut off mid-sentence by his palm as he covered her mouth, shushing her.

"Stop talking."