Page 35 of Shattered Saint
After I finished eating, I decided to take a shower. I wanted to feel refreshed and confident for whatever was going to happen tonight. As I stood under the hot water, I focused on relaxing instead of the other shit going on in my life and it seemed to help.
But as I rinsed off the soap, I knew that I had to find out. We needed to find a way to deal with each other because he was Nash’s friend, and our families were friends. Maybe it was time to bury the hatchet and move on from where we’d been over the last couple of years.
I got dressed in my usual attire, which consisted of yoga pants and a t-shirt with a sweatshirt thrown on top. I didn't want to give Easton the wrong idea about my expectations, whatever this talk was supposed to be about. I added some light makeup to my face, but not enough to make it look as if I put in a lot of effort.
When I put down my lip balm, I got a phone call from the front desk. I checked my phone and saw that the time was 6:29 p.m. If this was Easton, then he was right on time.
“Hello, this is Bianca.”
“Hi, Ms. Henson. Easton Beaumont is here to see you, but he’s not on the list of people that are allowed to come up.”
“You can let him up. Thank you.”
I hung up the phone and was left in silence. In a matter of minutes, Easton would be in my apartment for who knew what, and I felt as if I was being dragged in front of a crowd completely naked. The last time we’d been alone, he’d told me I’d been nothing more than a quick fuck.
I strolled into the living area and sat down on the couch as I waited for him to come upstairs. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. I took my time walking over to it, and I looked out the peephole, confirming it was Easton. With a deep breath, I turned the lock and then the doorknob.
"Hey, Bianca," Easton said smoothly.
I hated how good he looked.
He was in a black t-shirt, dark denim pants and a leather jacket. His entire demeanor was calm, cool, and casual as he leaned against my doorframe, and I was the exact opposite and wasn’t completely sure if I was in the midst of a panic attack.
“Come in.”
Easton didn’t waste any time coming inside, and I closed the door behind him. My manners and my mom’s gift for hosting people at her home must have been passed down to me because the next thing out of my mouth was, “Can I get you something to drink or eat?”
Easton shook his head. “No thanks. I won’t be staying for long.”
That was a relief, but it still left me with plenty of questions.
I led Easton toward my living room and said, “Have a seat wherever you’d like.”
Once he sat down on the far end of my couch, I decided to sit down on the cushion closest to me, giving us ample space from one another.
“So, what is this all about?”
Easton turned his head so that he could look me right in the eye. “Well, I want something from you, and you need something from me.”
The laughter that came out of my mouth was anything but humorous. “I doubt that I need anything from you, but I’ll bite. What is it that you want from me?”
Easton’s gaze turned to look out my window, as if he had a sudden fascination with watching the sun set. I waited for him to continue, but I already knew I wasn’t going to like the words that were going to come out of his mouth.
“I want you,” he finally said.
My mouth dropped open, and I couldn’t tell what was affecting me more, my shock or my disgust with him. “Do you have a concussion from football?”
That made him chuckle. “Nope, I’m completely fine.”
"Easton," I warned, narrowing my eyes as I stood up to show him to the door. "I don't want anything to do with you, as I’ve made it obvious the last two years. Just leave me alone and you can start doing that by leaving now."
He raised his hands defensively and I rolled my eyes. "Hear me out." Easton paused, and when the look in his eyes turned wicked, I knew I was in trouble.
"Unless," he continued in a low voice, "you'd rather I go to your parents and talk to them about your little. . . drinking problem."
"What are you talking about?" I stuttered, attempting to pretend I had no idea what he was talking about. I failed.
My heart stopped as he pulled out his phone and showed me a photo. It was clearly a picture of me doing a body shot off Taylor. He flicked his thumb over the screen and I saw myself drinking while dancing on a bar top. My body involuntarily began to shake. So, he had been there the night I thought I saw him.
