Fearless by Kelsey Cheyenne

Author:Kelsey Cheyenne [Cheyenne, Kelsey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-01-22T16:00:00+00:00

I wake up to Lucas’ heavy arm draped over my center. I don’t know when I finally fell asleep last night and I’m shocked I even could. I planned to sneak back to my room when he passed out, but I guess I didn’t get the chance. Yet, I realize as I look at the clock that I couldn’t have been asleep for too long seeing as it’s five-thirty and still dark out.

I slink out of bed, keeping quiet as I leave the room. I use the flashlight on my phone to grab my clothes off the floor before heading back to his sister’s room where the rest of my stuff is. I pack up my suitcase and move on to clean the downstairs as well. Then I go and take a searing hot shower to burn off all the traces of Lucas Fletcher from my skin.

I want to get out of here as soon as the devil wakes up. I don’t want to think about enduring the three hour car ride with him, but I don’t have much of a choice.

Time passes like a three-legged turtle. I start banging pots and pans in hopes of waking him up. After another thirty minutes passes, the toilet upstairs flushes and for the first time all morning, I’m excited. Lucifer is awake.

The devil incarnate comes downstairs and into the kitchen with bedhead and wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts. My lady business responds to the sight, but it otherwise feels like a knife to the heart. How could he be so callous in using me that way? The man’s a true sociopath.

“You’re up early,” he notes and makes his way across the room toward me.

I back away and a flash of hurt crosses his face. Give this man an award.

“I’m actually not feeling well. I was hoping we could leave.” Not the most original excuse, but it’ll do. I’m hoping he doesn’t take note of my puffy eyes and question me.

“Sure. Let me go change.”

I try my best to give him a fake smile, but it feels more like a grimace. I don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he upset me. I won’t let him win or embarrass me further.

We pack up the car and I curl into the passenger seat. I pass out and sleep for most of the drive, the one benefit of barely sleeping at all last night. When I wake up, we’re back in Wilmington and in ten minutes I’ll be home. Then I can wipe my hands of him and hope karma takes over for me.

“Let me help you with your bags,” he offers once he parks outside my apartment.

“No, I, uh, I could be contagious. I just want to go to bed. I start walking away and he tries to stop me.

“Whatever it is, I probably already have it.”

I recall our night together and nausea rolls through my stomach for real. “I have to go.”

He yells after me, telling me he’ll call me and he hopes I feel better.

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