I tug the belt around the waist of my winter coat tighter as I brace myself against the cold windy night.
The large iron street lamps tower above me with a warm glow as my old boots crunch against dead leaves and left over rock salt from the light snow dusting we had yesterday.
Besides going to my classes I've been holed up in my room the last few days hiding from Preston as well as my roommates.
I've completely secluded myself and I hate myself for it, but I've also never felt lower and less like myself than I do right now.
I feel totally lost, and utterly confused.
But tonight I gather what little strength I have left in my bones and decide to head to the library to study since finals are in a month. I know I need to get a jumpstart on my studying to achieve the grades I want this semester. Tests and assignments might be flowing easier because of my tutoring sessions with Preston from earlier in the semester, but that doesn't mean I don't have to still work my ass off.
I wrap my scarf around my neck in an attempt to warm and console myself. It's cozy and fuzzy, and the exact opposite of the bitter loneliness that has suddenly taken over my entire life.
A group of girls breeze right past me laughing and eagerly talking. Their arms are linked and by the way they are dressed I can see they are headed out. It's Wednesday, which means a few of the downtown bars run ladies night specials with cheap drinks and shot deals.
The ache that strikes my heart is so sudden it causes me to stumble over my feet a bit. Elizabeth would've loved it if I suggested we go out. But instead I'm letting myself fall backwards. Back into my roots. Back into being that small person that hides. I detest that I'm reverting back to that person. I've grown so much this year, but my insecurities have weakened and wrecked me.
On a deep sigh I straighten my spine and force myself to continue to move forward as the frigid wind bites angrily against my now rosy cheeks.
I turn the corner to see the library stand tall in front of me, and I let out a content sigh. It's the one place that still makes me feel like myself. The moon reflects brightly against the stained glass windows and I can see people moving inside. It might be late but the library around this time of year stays consistently busy.
I'm walking up the front steps when a loud, almost deafening, pop explodes from above me. I halt in my boots and back away from the building to see something flickering from the top of the library.
Then I hear a shocked scream.
A boom sounds that makes the hairs on my arms stand up and a chill race down my spine. The sound is followed by the sharp cracking of glass. Shards go flying everywhere, the colorful glass glittering in the moonlight as flames begin to rage above it.
It's a fire.
And my heart sinks when I realize it's happening in the attic. Preston's attic.
A whimper escapes me brokenly as I try to not fall to my knees at the realization. Flames ravage wildly as alarms begin to blare in the building and students and teachers come flooding out in waves from the library. Everyone's terrified and scrambling to get as far away as possible.
But I stay frozen.
Some bystanders begin to stop to watch alongside me, but no one understands the fear that grips me so tightly I can barely breathe.
My stomach twists so hard I have to bite my bottom lip to stop from releasing the contents of my stomach all over the frosted sidewalk.
Sirens ring in the air and flashbacks of that night seven years ago hit me so hard I begin to sob, not caring that people are now curiously staring at me.
It's becoming hard to catch my breath, the air so icy it stings, that my lungs begin to burn as I find myself gasping in desperate need.
Smoke darkly rises from the attic along with the dancing flames that it completely eclipses the moon that once hung so brightly in the sky.
Suddenly a girl is by my side. "Hey, are you okay?" Concern is clear in her words.
But I can barely hear her through the ringing in my ears. Her face is blurry through the tears streaming like a faucet from my eyes.
"I...I just need to go," I mumble out messily.
Preston, my heart aches.
He could be hurt. He could be trapped. He could be dead. Pain stretches in my chest in acknowledgment that I avoided him for days and now I could actually lose him. This is Nathaniel. I just know it. He took him from me in some fucked up revenge.
The entire world feels off kilter. I feel like I'm falling as I try to move through the thick crowd of people that are now surrounding the burning library.
I'm pushing anxiously through people when my shoulder hits someone so hard that it sends me spinning until my back falls into a large chest. Arms instantly wrap around me, catching me, holding my body up and I can't help but sink into them.
Because I can smell him. I can feel him. It is him. I know it.
My hands grasp onto his, needing to feel him, as tears continue to stream down my face and shaky gasps escape me.
"It's okay. I'm here Jameson," he whispers. "I'm here," he repeats as if he knows I need his reassurance.
I rotate in his grasp and tuck my head into his chest seeking out his touch. I let the tears flow from me freely as he holds me close and soothes me. His hands rub against my back and he continues to whisper in my ear that he's beside me. That he's here. Because Preston isn't dead. He's alive and by my side.
"How?" I finally hiccup as I pull back just enough to look up at him. I watch as red and blue lights flash across his face and the smell of fire begins to tinge my nose.
His hand lifts to wipe the tears from my face with his thumb. "I left to come find you."
"Find me?" I question as my heart continues to race in my chest. My brain sees him in front of me and is aware he isn't in the fire, but my body is still rushing with adrenaline and fear.
A ghost of a smile lifts his lips. The wind turning his cheeks pink. "You told me not to let you run Jameson, so I was allowing you space," he tells me.
"Three days was all I was allowed?" I tease weakly with a sniffle.
His thumb continues to trace my jaw gently. "It took all my fucking strength to even give you that," he confesses to me as he moves to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear. "I missed you so much."
I let my head fall into his chest at his soft confession. I fall into his warmth, and I breathe him in to help steady my practically bursting heart.
We hold each other until the tips of my fingers feel frozen. Until the crowd around us begins to disperse. He feels me finally give in and shiver in his arms. "Do you want me to take you home?" His words are whispered into my hair and I find myself clinging onto him even tighter, never wanting to let him go.
I shake my head. "I want to come home with you," I whimper.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," I state without hesitation. I can't even imagine being away from him right now. I need to touch him and see him, because for a few terrifying moments I realized what life would be like without Preston Rothwell.
And I never want to experience that again.
♢
We are quiet the entire car ride to his place. But it's not uncomfortable. It's what I need. Just his presence next to me. To know he's here. He's not hurt or...even worse. He's by my side. His hand is clutched in mine and I refuse to let it go.
I can't. I won't.
My father's words seem so trivial now. On a sigh I come to the conclusion that he doesn't get to define me. He doesn't get to make me feel small. I am better than that. I am better than he will ever know.
But that's okay. Because I know it, and that's all that matters.
Preston squeezes my hand as if he is able to read my mind and it makes my heart come to life on a flutter. He finally pulls up to his apartment building and we quickly make our way inside. My chest clenches at the memory of the last time I was here.
Wrath night.
The front desk manager nods at Preston as we enter the lobby and the elevator doors open for us as soon as we walk over to them.
We silently ride up to the penthouse as Preston's fingers tangle with mine once again. His hold on my hand is firm yet gentle and it's the perfect level of reassurance I need right now.
My emotions are all over the place and I don't know how to maneuver through them, but I know I also don't have to do it alone. Because Preston is by my side.
He opens the door to his apartment and pulls me inside with him. He lets go of my hand to head to the kitchen and grab two glasses along with a bottle of what looks like expensive dark liquor.
As he pours us glasses I kick off my boots by the door and slip off my jacket to place it on the hook by the entrance. I then walk over and hop up so I'm sitting atop of the concrete countertop.
He rounds the corner and sits down on the stool in front of me. I slowly spread my thighs so he's sitting between them.
Preston hands me the glass and we both take a much needed long sip. The liquor is smokey but has a sweet aftertaste that instantly warms my chest.
My teeth tease my bottom lip. "Are we going to talk about the fire?" Even saying the words has my pulse skyrocketing. We both know who is behind it. We both know who that fire was intended for.
He shakes his head. "Not yet."
"Not yet?" I question in shock.
"Finish your drink first," he encourages as he relaxes in his seat. He's quiet as he sips on the liquor. As if tonight didn't shake him to his core like it did me.
"And then we talk about the fire?" I push. I need answers. I don't like being in the dark.
"No," he replies calmly. "Then we talk about you ignoring me for three days."
My gaze drops to the glass in my hand.
"I gave you your space Jameson," he starts. "But you said not to let you run. So I'm not letting you run," he tells me as he reaches out to touch my knee. His thumb traces the inside of my thigh causing me to slowly melt.
"Can we talk about the fire first?" I ask not wanting to talk about me just yet.
"No more running," he declares. "Please talk to me."
My father's words play on repeat in my ears, but I don't run from the feeling bubbling inside of me this time. "I'm scared," I finally admit.
"Of Nate?"
"Well yes..." I trail. "But also because I'm scared I'm too selfish to be in a relationship with you. That I won't ever pick anyone above myself and my goals. That I won't pick you."
He practically scoffs. "I'm not scared of that at all."
"What?" I ask taken back by his confidence. "Why?"
Preston slams his glass onto the counter so loudly it causes a gasp to escape me as he rushes to stand up and invade my space by stepping between my legs. His hands immediately cup my cheeks and lift my gaze so I have no option but to look up at him.
"Because I don't ever want you to pick me first. Pick me second. Third. Dead fucking last! I don't care as long as you do end up picking me. Like I said Jameson I don't want you to need me. I want you to choose me."
I don't have words. There are no words if I'm being honest.
So I don't speak. Instead I raise my hands to his face to lower his forehead to mine, and we sit like this. Just breathing each other in. Just existing in each other's space.
And I feel something special. Something new. Peace.
He pulls back and presses a delicate kiss to my temple. "Come with me," he says as he takes a step back from me and the counter. But his hand finds mine lightly pulling me along.
I hop off the counter. "Where?"
"Trust me Jameson?"
I smile because the answer is immediate and easy and most of all it's the truth. "Yes."
He leads me through his apartment and I follow without hesitation. It's at this moment I know I would follow him anywhere. The realization isn't scary. It's calming knowing this man who I would follow anywhere would also follow me. Chase me. Choose me.
We walk through his bedroom and straight into his bathroom.
I'm confused as to what we are doing in here when he pulls his hoodie off stopping me and my heart completely.
"What are you doing?" I stutter out confused but also intrigued.
I watch as he unbuttons his jeans and kicks them off. "Take off your clothes," he says and the demand paired with his whisper of a smile has my stomach flipping.
I might know I would follow him anywhere, but I also know I'm not ready for that step with him just yet. "Preston...I—"
"Nothing is happening Jameson," he assures me. "I just want to take care of you. Please let me take care of you right now." His words flicker with a hint of desperation and my entire body aches for him. For his heat and comfort.
"Okay. Okay," I say as I follow suit and begin to peel off my shirt and drop it to the floor. Because I do trust him not to escalate our physical relationship until I'm ready.
My eyes can't help but stray down his nearly bare body as he leans over to open the large glass door to the shower. He flips the handle so water begins to fall from the multiple faucets.
Preston then starts to pull his boxer briefs down.
My throat runs dry. We have never been fully naked in front of each other. Especially with the lights on. Showing every single part of us without any shadows. And I can't help but stare at every stupid sexy inch of him. He really is perfect. I'd find it annoying if I wasn't the one who gets to look at him.
My hands tremble a little and I find myself clasping them together in front of me to cease it. Because it is nerve wracking, but I also can't deny that I do crave his touch and his comfort after everything that happened tonight.
So I slip off my leggings, which leaves me in only my bra and underwear.
Preston's eyes trail me with a dark hunger, but also a sparkle of appreciation that is light and beautiful and has me aching for him.
He takes a step forward until he is right in front of me, just inches away. His fingers trace up my arm until they tangle in my hair as steam from the shower begins to overflow the space and spill into the air around us. It's thick and heady and my head is beginning to spin from his intoxicating presence.
"You're perfect," he murmurs. My body tenses at his words, but my brain fights against them.
I blush. "No I'm not."
"You are," he pushes, not backing down. "And I will tell you that every day until you believe me."
My bottom lip tucks under my top teeth as I try to stop myself from launching my body at Preston. Instead I reach behind myself to unhook my bra and let it slide down my arms. But his gaze doesn't drop to my now bare chest. He doesn't check me out right away. Rather he keeps his eyes locked on mine, and something about that makes this moment even hotter.
He doesn't waver as I hook my thumbs into the side of my underwear and slip them down my legs until I'm standing completely naked in front of Preston. Nothing between us. Just us. Just skin.
I am standing bare and open in front of the only guy my heart has been struck bare and open to since the very beginning.
His thumb moves to trace my bottom lip. "Perfect," he whispers, making my entire body flame.
He then leads us both into the steaming shower. There are three showerheads on the wall and one hanging above us. The water is hot yet soothing as it turns my skin bright red. He pulls us close together so we are standing underneath it all, and our bodies are pressed perfectly against each other.
Every inch of him is against every inch of me, but it oddly doesn't feel sexual. It feels like something more. So much more that it sends my heart racing.
His fingertips trace up and down my back as we stay wrapped up in each other. My hands trail up his wide shoulders until they tangle within his dark wet hair.
Preston shifts us so the three wall showerheads are hitting us but the rainfall one is no longer pointed at us. He grabs a bottle of soap and begins to lather it into his hands. It smells like him. Clean with pine and a hint of sweetness that has me leaning in wanting more.
Dark strands of hair fall into his forehead as a lazy smile stretches across his face. I swear he can read every thought that enters my mind. He runs his hands over his toned chest leaving tons of suds running down his body. The action pulls my gaze down, down, and further down until my cheeks are burning.
He then reaches out and grabs onto my hand to place against his chest. My nails instantly flex into his skin, as if I instinctually need to mark him as mine. I start to pull my hand back a little embarrassed by my reaction, but he stops me.
Preston forces my hand to stay put and presses it even harder into his skin. He leans down so his lips are brushing against the shell of my ear. "Remember I told you I liked it rough," he hums, making my thighs clench.
I remember the day he said that to me. We were studying. It was like any other session we ever had. Yet it wasn't because nothing with Preston was ever normal. It was always more.
"You won't break?" I ask breathlessly as I feel the steady thrumming of his heart in his chest. It's strong. It's stable. And it begins to beat faster because of my touch. Because of me.
"Never," he promises.
He then pours more soap into his hands and begins to massage the soap into my skin. He makes his way up my arm, before turning me and running his hands down the expanse of my back.
He caresses, massages, traces every inch of me until I'm completely covered in suds and him. My blood is liquid heat in my veins and I tingle everywhere he's touched like a trail of whispers against my skin. His smell permanently inked onto me, and I've never felt more relaxed or at ease.
Preston then turns me so my back is pressed against his front and he holds me as the water rinses away the suds and the tingles, but leaves behind the perfect warm and fuzzy feeling.
The shower comes to an end and Preston dries me off with the thickest towel and then gives me a shirt to put on.
We both fall into his bed. Wet hair, soft skin, smiling, and holding each other.
"Thank you," he says, looking at me as if I'm something that amazes him.
"For what?"
"For letting me take care of you."
"Preston–"
"No. No, Jameson. You deserve me. You deserve this. We deserve this. Please don't pull away." I don't mishear him this time. He's begging me to not let him go. To not let us go.
"I won't," I swear, and as I stare into his dark eyes three little words sneak onto the tip of my tongue. But I push them away, not ready for that step. So instead I say three different words. "Don't let go."
Don't let me go.
His arm snakes around my waist and drags me closer so his nose is trailing against mine. "I won't. Ever."
"Can we talk about the fire now?" I question. It comes out quietly as if I'm too worried to break the perfect spell we are under.
He nods. "Yes."
"It was Nate wasn't it?" I ask even though we both know the answer. We know the truth.
"It was," he confirms, making anger and pain erupt from deep within me. If he did this, what else is he capable of? How far would he take this? "He started leaving notes for me. I would've told you but you seemed to be really busy lately," he teases tapping his fingers against the side of my hip.
"Sorry," I grumble at him calling me out.
"What was that?" he teases, making me smile.
"Shut up." I shove my hands against his chest, but it only makes him pull me closer.
He laughs and for a moment I stop thinking of Nathaniel and how scared I am and just focus on the sound that makes every inch of me explode with possibilities. The possibility of us. The possibility of everything we could do together. Be together.
"You could've died," I state, but saying the words aloud has me choking up.
He comes in close again not letting any space come between us at this moment.
"But I didn't," he counters in an attempt to ground my wildly negative thoughts.
"That doesn't matter. That fire was meant for you. It was meant to kill–"
He cuts me off. "I'm here Jameson. I'm here." While the reminder helps it doesn't stop the worry that sinks in my stomach like a ton of bricks.
"I know, but I'm fucking terrified," I confess brokenly. "He wants to hurt you and my brother and everyone."
"I know, and I promise nothing will happen to me. But most importantly I swear I won't let anything happen to you Jameson. Ever."
My body heats at his words, and the ferocity behind them. But we both know something is coming. Something bigger. Something darker. Because I have a feeling the fire at the library is only the beginning.