Morgan POV
I watch as Y/N shrugs her jacket off, her V-neck shirt revealing the soft glow of her skin in the gentle lighting of the restaurant I had ushered her into. I asked her once how her skin seemed to glow all the time, she hadn't even looked up from her plate of food to simply say "its sweat, Morgan" and she definitely didn't seem to sweating right now.
I have no idea what kind of restaurant we were sitting in, from the looks of the place it seems to be a regular burger joint but looks can be deceiving. The girl sitting across from me is the prime example of that.
Her eyes scan the scene around us, flickering from table to wall and back. She seemed perky enough when we walked in but her eyes tell a different story. That same tired, sad look that I've become so used to seeing reflects back to me even now. The circles under her eyes are more prominent today, but I have a feeling that her sleepless night was due to something other than an argument.
The thought of Y/N in her hotel room with the asshole she considers her boyfriend, their bodies close beneath the sheets is enough to make me have to take several deep breathes; a trick I learned from Y/N.
That was another thing I had started to miss about her. When she first came to Toronto she had been so feisty. With Mason, the reporters and other media, even me. But the last few weeks had been a different story. The only person she ever snapped at anymore was Mason, and even that was few and far between these days.
Y/N's gaze lowers to her phone resting on the table and I watch a shadow of pain crosses her fine features. The pang in my chest at seeing her discomfort surprises me. What surprises me even more is when she looks at a young couple sitting a few tables down from us, an almost wistful look is written across her face as she bites her bottom lip, another thing she does when she's deep in thought.
I startle when her eyes flash to mine and I realize I've been staring for far too long. Hoping to avoid the awkward encounter, I shift my gaze to just over her shoulder as smoothly as I can. I think it worked until I peek at her once more, the faint hint of a smile on her lips as she stares down at her menu.
"Alright, Mo," she says, "You picked this place so I'm hoping you had good reason?"
"Sorry to disappoint, but it was a... spontaneous decision," I grin back her and she laughs quietly.
"That's what I was afraid of," she says.
"Are you telling me you're not a spontaneous person?" I ask.
This gets me a quirked eyebrow stare over the top of her menu. "You've know me for what? Just over a month? Have I yet to show any spontaneous behavior?"
"You're with me now," I tease, cocking my head to the side.
She raises her head and nods slowly. "Yes, I suppose that's true," she says slowly and her secret smile that drives me insane makes an appearance and my entire body tenses. Our eyes stay locked, another one of our staring contests that I always seem to lose. But this time it ends in a tie as the waiter appears.
When he disappears with our drink order Y/N leans across the table and whispers to me.
"Don't think for a moment that that ended in a tie just because the waiter came. I won, you looked away first."
"I was being polite!"
"I wasn't."
I go to roll my eyes in humor until I see her fingers dancing across the scarf I had given her so long ago, fingering the loose threads and rubbing the material. A warm feeling spreads from my head to my toes at the sight. The memory of her mortified expression in the car ride on our way home from our first road trip is enough to bring a smile to my face.
"What?" She questions, eyeing me warily.
I shake my head, leaning my elbows on the table. "Nothing."
Regular POV
I spend my entire day with Morgan. Just Morgan. We never rejoined the group nor did we return to the hotel until much later in the day. My body and mind exhausted from our last stop on the way back, a boat ride that we had stumbled upon.
Apparently it was a popular spot for people to visit because the boat had been at maximum capacity. So much so that I had had to sit on Morgan's knee for the last leg of the tour because I was beginning to feel claustrophobic between his big body and that of the man on my other side. It made Morgan incredibly nervous to have me out of my seat and his arms had been tight around my waist, pulling me flush against him.
"I'll be your seatbelt if you won't sit in your damn seat," he had grumbled at me and I hadn't said anything back, too content with my new seatbelt to complain.
"Did you want to go out to eat with us all tonight? Mason is coming too," Morgan asks as we step into the elevator.
"Where?" I ask.
"I don't know what it's called, we go every time we come to Pittsburgh. It's one of the taller buildings downtown, has a lot of different restaurants inside it and a nightclub, obviously we aren't going to the nightclub part," he says pressing the button to my floor and then his. I wrinkle my nose at the thought of leaving him in the elevator.
"Yeah, alright," I nod.
"Great, I'll come get you before we leave around seven," he says and too soon the elevator door opens to my stop.
"Okay," I sigh and give him one last longing look when he's not looking. "I'll see you in a little bit."
"Soon," he says and I hear a faint hint of the same tone I had used.
I enter my hotel room and notice that a maid must have been through and I'm thankful. I hadn't wanted to make the bed that I had shared with Nick last night, I was half hoping they had changed the sheets even.
Based off of Morgan's very poor description of where we were going, I take a stab in the dark to guess that the restaurant they want to go to is on the nicer side. So, I take to doing my hair in a bit nicer style, the wind from the boat had really done a number on my braids. I slip my shirt off and step in front of the mirror, unbraiding the strands slowly and carefully. Goosebumps spread across my skin as lose strands flow down my back in waves.
Deciding that the completely down do isn't good enough, I start pining strands in an order of disarray, leaving most of the tendrils lose but giving myself a bit more volume. I still have an hour but I spread out my suitcase on the bed. I had planned for business casual only so my options are extremely limited.
Luckily I had thrown in a pair of black jeans that could fit the roll of business but tight enough that if I moved my hips just right would scream 'look at me!' I pull them on and walk back and forth before my pile of clothes sprawled across the bed. Only one piece of clothing keeps drawing my attention but it's a silk sleeping top.
Taking a chance, I slip it over my head and give myself a second to revel at the feel of silk against my skin, like water dancing. The back is way too low cut to be considered anything but trashy by most opinionated people in society. To me, it would be okay but I'm not really in the mood to be scolded by older ladies or sneered over like a piece of meat by middle aged white men who would say I was asking for it.
I sigh looking over what I could possibly use to cover at least the back of the top and come up with nothing. Nearly out of time and completely out of options, a light bulb goes off in my head. I pick up my phone and wait impatiently as it rings.
"What?" Mason asks, irritable as ever as he answers.
"Do you have that black jacket that you think still fits with you?" I ask him in a rush, choosing to ignore his attitude in hopes that he will soften up a bit.
"It does fit me and what's it to you?"
"Can I borrow it for the night? Please? I didn't pack for the kind of place we are going to and I don't want to be stared at all night wearing just the shirt that I am right now," I say and there's silence on the other line. "Please, Mason?" I ask once more.
I hear a long sigh on the other side and break into a smile, I got him.
"Y/N, you're supposed to pack for every possible situation," he complains.
"I know that now! So can I please borrow it for tonight?"
"What room are you in?" He groans into the receiver and I do a victory twirl after telling him.
Three minutes later there's a knock at my door and I whip it open so quickly that he nearly falls forward with the momentum of his second knock.
"Jesus, Y/N, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" He snaps and then he catches sight of my outfit. "Make that two heart attacks," he adds and I blink.
"Did you just compliment me?" I ask frowning.
"No one would believe you if I did, here," he hands out the black jacket that he has to of had since high school.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," I chant, bounding back into my room to stand in front of the mirror as I slip it on.
To my surprise again, Mason follows me into the room.
I twist and turn in the mirror, admiring my reflection. The jacket is just slightly too big but it makes the look work, the black jeans and black jacket are a good contrast to the white silk top and I'm pretty sure I packed a pair of red heels in my bag as well.
"Still fits me just so you know," Mason says again and I raise my eyebrows at his reflection in my mirror.
"Ok, Mas," I say unconvinced and dig out my pumps from my bag.
Mason wanders around my room and I throw him a few curious glances that he never returns. But I can feel the uneasiness radiating off of him. I don't push him with any questions, too afraid he might take the jacket back from me.
"What's this?" He says and I do a double take when I see him holding the ring Nick had given me. I had placed it on the T.V. stand when I first undressed.
I snatch it out of his hand. "Nothing," I snap, balling my fist around the cool silver.
He watches me with a blank stare and I suddenly feel a compelling need to spill everything to him.
"So should I be calling you Mrs.-" he trails off and I narrow my eyes at him.
"You hate him but you don't even know his last name?" I ask.
"He's a dickhead so should I call you Mrs. Dickhead?" Mason asks and I give him one last filthy look before sliding the ring onto my middle finger.
"Mason, stop being a child. That's not funny and it's not an engagement ring," I say, hating the feel of the ring around my finger.
"What's not funny is that you're still with him! He treats you-"
He's once again cut off by another knock on the door.
"That will be Morgan, are you ready?" I ask him, ready to put as much distance between Mason and myself as possible.
"Should have guessed it was your little puppy dog," Mason grumbles but opens the door all the same.
"Oh, hey Mas, you guys ready?" Morgan asks but I'm too distracted by how he's dressed. All black everything. I'm still doing my once over on him when I realize he's doing the same to me.
"You two need a minute?" Mason asks, glancing between Morgan and I like a tennis match.
"No," I say quickly, my cheeks flushing as I shove him out the doorway.
-
The ride to the tower is a real treat. Usually the bus rides are quiet, a few card games going on and a few others talking quietly. But this ride was causing me to see a whole new side of most of the guys. I mostly sit quietly, being the only girl intimidating me slightly. Even Mason is being rowdier than usual and laughing with the younger guys near the middle of the bus. It's weird.
As we all pile out and step onto the sidewalk, Morgan appears at my side again.
"You look very nice tonight, I don't think I told you," he says and my heart palpates.
"Thank you," I murmur, looking down to hide my blush.
Nick still hadn't texted me since this morning and I was getting more and more anxious. What could he possibly be doing all day?
I brood about it the entire walk inside and find myself in one elevator with twelve other people and wonder how I got there. William hits the button for the club floor and I raise my eyebrows at him. He sees me looking and gives me a lopsided smile.
"Don't go getting any ideas, Y/N. We have to get off on the fourteenth floor and then walk up to the fifteenth," he explains.
"That doesn't make any sense," I mutter and he shrugs.
"Does much of anything?"
"That's a good point," I nod and he looks proud of himself.
I wait patiently, watching the floor numbers go higher and higher until we reach our destination. I step out of the elevator first, the rumble of a deep bass vibrating underneath my feet. There are no walls keeping us from the club, the pulsing blue and yellow lights casting shadows across faces and bodies. There's only a rope between us and several what looks like private booths and then a large dance floor just beyond that.
I feel the others moving behind me, heading towards a staircase I hadn't noticed on the opposite wall of the elevator. I move to follow them but something catches me eye. A familiar figure, his face coming in and out of focus as the lights bounce around.
"Y/N, what are you doing?" Morgan asks from the bottom of the stairs, the others halting in their steps to look back at me. I pay them no attention, too focused on the boy in front of me. I walk forward slowly, ignoring Morgan's voice as he calls to me again.
The bouncer takes one look at me and opens the rope for me to go in. I don't thank him or even glance in his direction. I'm halfway between the rope and the nearest booth when I notice another figure with him. I feel every last breath leave my body and the weight of a thousand boulers on my shoulders as I watch the pretty red head lean in and kiss my boyfriend square on the mouth. I don't even have the air to gasp as he kisses her right back, one hand coming up to cup the cheek of his agents wife that I had met this past summer.
Every single fiber in me seems to break all at once.
The wave of pain that washes over me is something that I would never wish upon anyone. I watch as his hand slides down the woman's side, losing sight of it as it disappears beneath the table, but her expression is enough to tell me where it is.
I take half a step back, not wanting to see anymore but also unable to look away. Almost as if he sensed me, Nick's eyes meet mine and I see surprise and then fear shining out at me. His hands reappear as he places them on the table to help himself stand up. I shake my head slowly, taking another step backwards.
"Y/N?" I think see him say my name, his mouth making the movement but I hear nothing. Not even the music that I feel vibrating my bones.
I find the ring on my finger with my other hand and slip it off.
His mouth moves again.
I watch him watch the fall of my ring as I drop it into a glass of white wine on the table beside me. Then I turn on my heel, marching right back out the open gate that the bouncer had yet to put back up, he like many others now had been watching me. The elevator door is still open and I dash back inside it, hitting the lobby button and the frantically trying to get the doors to close as I watch Nick trying to get to me; tables, chairs and people hindering his attempt.
I hear a voice, the first voice I've heard, he's calling my name but I don't want him to get to me either. Right now, all I want is myself. Because right now, that's all I have. The last thing I see before the door closes is two sets of hands reaching out to halt Nick right as he reaches the door, giving me that last second before they seal shut and I'm being whisked back downstairs.