Chapter 20
Chapter 20:
I stare long and hard at the ceiling, my ears catching the tick-tock of the wall clock. I have a feeling tonight is going to be a long night. A long night. The consequence of my choice to hold back my feelings through this entire hangout will catch up with me.
But I’ve been living with that consequence for years now—the torment of dreaming about my best friend every night. Only tonight, someone else I can’t stand will likely invade my dreams too. I pray I don’t dream of punching his brains out in my sleep.
My legs dangle off the edge of the bed, growing heavier by the minute. I don’t know how long I’ve been lying here, but judging by the weight dragging down my legs, it’s been a while.I throw two more cookies into my…
Mouth, and as I begin to chew on them, my taste buds start begging me for water. Damn! I must have forgotten to bring a bottle of water with me. I do not feel like going downstairs right now, but I cannot starve myself of water.
I groan as I get out of bed, stretching my muscles a little. I close the cookie can lid before leaving the room and shut the door behind me. When I reach downstairs, I am surprised to see that no one is there.
My eyes glance at the clock, and I curse when I see that it is already past midnight. Only God knows how long I must have stayed in my room drowning in my thoughts.
As I near the kitchen, aiming to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator, I could hear Dominic’s voice coming from inside. I halt in surprise, wondering what he might be doing there at this time of night. He seems to be on a phone call, judging from the pauses in his responses. From his curt tone, I can tell the call is serious, so I make a mental note not to disturb him and instead try to see if I can find a bottle of water lying around on the dining table or somewhere else in the sitting room.
Just as I try to walk away silently, I could hear him mention Isla’s name, and I freeze mid-step. Something feels off in the way he speaks to the person on the other end of the call.
I lean against the corridor wall, standing close to the kitchen. I am grateful the corridor lights are off, and that a dark corner lies two steps away from me. I do not want to eavesdrop, but I cannot help it. Not after hearing the way he said Isla’s name with such reckless abandon.
I cannot piece together the full meaning of his words, but I could hear fragments and phrases like—
I reach the bed and plop down, lying flat with my face staring at the ceiling. It hurts to love someone you may never have. I use the word “may” because it screams hope.
That hope is the torture. The torture of still hoping and waiting, of hoping again and waiting again, wishing that one day your feelings can finally be let out the way they are meant to. Without fear. pure. Wanted. Accepted. Cherished.
I pop open the can of Royal Dansk cookies in my hand and throw one into my mouth. Despite the ache swelling in my heart and the sting in my eyes, I have to admit that this cookie tastes good.
I stare at the ceiling for a long time, my ears picking up the steady tick-tock of the wall clock. I have a feeling tonight is going to be a long night. A long night. The consequence of my choice to stick out my audacity throughout this entire hangout is bound to catch up with me. But I have been living with that consequence for years now—the torment of dreaming about my best friend every night.
gⲁ𝗅𝓝𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀.𝗰0𝗺? 𝓜𝒐𝒓𝑒 novels
Only tonight, someone else I definitely do not like will be popping up in my dreams too. I pray I do not dream of punching his brains out in my sleep.
My legs dangle at the edge of the bed, starting to feel heavy. I do not know how long I have lain in this position, but with the weight in my legs, I can tell it has been for a while.
I throw two more cookies into my mouth, and as I begin to chew, my taste buds beg me for water. Damn! I must have forgotten to bring a bottle with me. I do not feel like going downstairs, but I cannot starve myself of water.
Groaning, I get out of bed, stretching my muscles a bit. I close the cookie can before leaving the room and shut the door behind me.
When I reach downstairs, I am surprised to see that no one is there. I glance at the clock and curse when I see it is already past midnight. Only God knows how long I stayed inside my room drowning in my thoughts.
As I near the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator, I could hear Dominic’s voice. I stop in surprise, wondering what he could be doing there at this time of night. He seems to be on a phone call, judging from the pauses in his responses. From his curt tone, I can tell the call is serious. I make a mental note not to disturb him and instead look around to see if there is a bottle of water lying on the dining table or somewhere else in the sitting room.
Just as I try to walk away silently, I could hear him mention Isla’s name. I freeze mid-step. Something feels off in his clipped responses to whoever is on the other end.
I find myself leaning against the corridor wall, standing close to the kitchen. I am grateful that the corridor lights are off and that…
There is a dark corner on the left side of the corridor, two steps away from where I’m standing.
I don’t want to eavesdrop, but I can’t help it—not after the way he said Isla’s name with such reckless abandon.
I can’t piece together the full meaning of his responses, but I catch words and phrases like: