Page 129 of Hurry Up And Wait

I was highly offended by that and crossed my arms over my chest, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but he was already on the phone with IKE.

“Dude, I’m telling you, it’s really bad. I can’t take it anymore.”

I glared at him, but he didn’t seem to care.

“I don’t give a shit if you want to smell it or not. I’m telling you, I’m out of here in fifteen, and if you’re not here, she’s going to be alone.”

I couldn’t believe the nerve of him. He was bartering with another man over who had to watch my stinky ass. I cringed as I thought of IKE seeing me like this. I guess it didn’t bother me with Bowie because he’d been here the whole time, watching me slowly wither into a pathetic, stinky woman. Maybe it was the frog in boiling water effect. But the thought of anyone walking through that door right now and seeing me like this…

I ran for the stairs, slipping in my five-day socks as I rounded the first two stairs. I nearly took out Riley as I crested the top of the stairs, but she just held her nose and let me pass. It must be really bad. I took off my clothes in my bedroom and tossed them in the laundry basket, then hopped in the shower. It was only when I felt my fingers in my greasy hair that I realized just how far I’d slipped. My scalp actually hurt and I spent a good five minutes massaging my skin to make my hair stop aching.

And when I saw the hair on my legs…well, thankfully, Riley and Bowie had snapped me out of my funk. I toweled off, feeling a hundred times better as I stepped out of the shower and the steam billowed out behind me. It was night, so I could have gotten back in some sweats or something, but that would only let me fall back into my depressed state, so I slipped on some jeans and a T-shirt.

By the time I made it back downstairs, Riley and Bowie were gone, and IKE was sitting in the chair Riley had been occupying. IKE glanced at me, his eyes roaming over my body for a second before he turned back to the television.

“I sprayed down your chair so it would stop smelling like ass.”

I rolled my eyes and headed for the kitchen to grab something to eat. My stomach ached from eating only candy and popcorn for the last five days. Thankfully, I had brushed the fuzz from my teeth. It was like I was growing caterpillars in my mouth or something.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“Are you cooking?” he asked.

I didn’t have the energy for that. Yes, I was feeling better, but I wasexhausted as hell from lack of sleep. I slumped at the kitchen table. My legs wouldn’t hold me up for too much longer.

“I take that as a no,” IKE muttered, making me jump.

I hadn’t realized he had followed me. He sat across from me in his expensive suit, staring at me intently, scrutinizing every inch of my face. “What?”

“Why did you let him do this to you?”

I glared at him, not appreciating the underlying words to his question. “That’s none of your business.”

“Kick his ass to the curb and move on. He’s not worth it.”

Maybe I felt that way a little bit, but hearing IKE say it only got my back up. All those wonderful memories with Kavanaugh flooded my mind, making me ache for the feel of his body against mine. What I wouldn’t give for another hug from him or to feel his lips brushing kisses against my temple as he laughed while he tickled me.

“Christ,” he muttered. “Don’t fucking cry about it.”

I swiped the tears from my face, refusing to be all sappy about Kavanaugh. I couldn’t help it, though. Lack of sleep was making me do stupid things. “You don’t know him like I do.”

“Thank God for that,” he hissed.

“I asked you if it was real. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know,” he shrugged.

I wasn’t buying it. IKE knew everything. Always. And he had no problems giving his opinion when asked, so why hadn’t he just told me that Kavanaugh really was engaged?

“You did know.”

“Prove it,” he challenged.

I cocked my head at him. “I don’t need to. You always know everything, and you have no problem telling me what you think. You knew Kavanaugh was engaged, so why didn’t you just say it?”

“Was he really engaged? It’s a publicity stunt.”

“That doesn’t make it any less real to me,” I argued.