Deviation (Deviate Series) (3 page)

His house is clean like I remembered. So clean it kind of reminds me of a hospital, well, a hospital without the smell of antiseptic and death. A big screen TV is mounted on the wall by the door. The walls have been painted a rich chocolate brown color, except for one which is painted beige, a perfect complement to the sandstone fireplace and gorgeous hardwood flooring. I’ve always been a sucker for hardwood floors. A few of my foster homes had them. They’re beautiful but it makes it harder to sneak around, tip-toeing on carpeting is much quieter.

There’s a very earthy feel to this room.
He has a creamy white couch that’s accented perfectly with a green throw blanket and solid color pillows. The table next to it is made of a tree stump with three branches extending upwards to hold a glass top. It’s absolutely gorgeous Covered in bark and moss, it looks as if it were just cut down and the green of the moss perfectly complements the couch pillows.. This room is just so stunning that I feel out of place just being here. It’s like I’m going to taint is just by my mere presence.

It’s amazing how much I
didn’t notice on my way out the other day. I was in such a hurry to leave and get to Ice that this all passed me by. I follow Angel down the hallway and notice there’s no family pictures on the wall. Hallways are usually shrines to family photos but not his. His hallway is light, the same beige color as the fireplace wall, but lacking the same warmth. The first door leads to the kitchen, which at first glance is just as elegant as the family room. It has black cabinets with glass doors and an island with a countertop that looks like white granite. I ended up learning a lot about interior decorating in my last foster home. The money they received fostering me ended up paying for the renovation of their house instead of buying me clothes and stuff. On the plus side, I learned what I liked and wanted for my own home someday. So far, this house has everything I love. “Okay, this is the room we stayed in. I call it the white room. You can stay in this one, or there’s another if you want to stay in there instead,” Angel says like it’s no big deal.

I look in and he’s right about the white room. Everything is
white, and I mean everything. The bed frame looks country-ish-- kind of like a white picket-fence. The bedding is all white, as well as the bedside tables, dressers, and entertainment center. The only actual color in the room comes from a painting of the beach on the wall and the blue throw blanket at the foot of the bed.

“Wow.
This room is pretty but also kind of depressing. It reminds me of a hospital room I stayed in once,” I laugh.

“
Well then, on to the next one,” he says, as he guides me along with a hand on the small of my back.

I try to hold
in my gasp at the feel of his touch but no luck. Praying that he didn’t hear me, I risk taking a look at him but I’m mortified to see that he did by his smirk. Damn! Before I have time to die of embarrassment we stop at the next door. When he opens it and I peek inside I’m completely speechless. This room is exactly what I would want if I had a room of my own, which, I haven’t. It’s so different from the other rooms, as if it was decorated by someone else

The walls are
painted turquoise and a black-framed bed with a white canopy top is against the wall. Covering the bed is a black and zebra print comforter with pink and zebra print throw pillows piled on top. Except for the far wall with two windows, every surface is covered by books. Shelves full of them fill every square inch of space. Reading used to be my favorite way to escape reality before I stumbled upon drugs and alcohol. A long black dresser is on the wall opposite of the bed with a flat screen TV on top, and there’s even a black make-up vanity. This room was definitely designed for a girl, so I can’t help but wonder if I’m imposing on him and a girlfriend. There’s a massive bean bag chair in the corner and suddenly I just want to curl up and lose myself in it.

Angel walks in and
walks towards the books, pushing on the wall closest to them. He motions for me to follow and when I reach him my mouth drops open. The door swings in to reveal a bathroom and walk-in closet. The bathroom is… unbelievable. It has a Jacuzzi tub, a walk in shower, double sinks, and a separate room for the toilet. It’s absolutely perfect and has the biggest closet I have ever seen. Seriously, it’s as big as a bedroom, bigger than some of the rooms I’ve lived in. Hell, it’s bigger than the piece of crap I shared with Timo.

In the center of the closet is this island thing. I open a drawer
and find matching bra and panty sets. What the hell? I look up at Angel with my eye brows raised but he just shrugs his shoulders like it’s no big deal. There are jeans, every kind imaginable, along with skirts, capris, and shorts. Dresses are on one side and shirts, dressy and casual attire is on the other side. And then I see them. Separating the tops from the bottoms are rows and rows of shoes: flats, tennis, heels, boots, you name it, they’re here. This makes me certain that I’m crowding in on a relationship here. I back out without another word, walk past a confused looking Angel, back down the empty hallway. Just as I’m about to open the front door, he pushes it closed.

“Angel
, just let me go,” I say with no fight left in me.

“
I will after you tell me what just happened,” his voice is strained…confused?

What’s there to be confused
about? I mean, obviously, he’s either dating someone or some chick is living with him because why else would he have a closet full of sexy lingerie, clothes, and shoes? Oh no! Could he be a cross-dresser? I cover my mouth with my hand trying to hold in the laughter, but when I see his expression, I can’t stop it from tumbling out.

Once I can talk with out laughing, I say “Well,
obviously you have a girlfriend, Angel, and I don’t want to complicate things for you two. It’s best if I just go.”

“Nevaeh,” he chuckles
, “no one lives with me. And if there was someone, I would never have offered to let you stay here. “

“Ah
, I get it. So, this must be about sex then?” I ask. I suspected that was the case but I had a glimmer of hope that he was different.
Fuck, I’m starting to have hope, and that’s something I can’t afford to let happen.

I’m still facing the door when he whips me around to face him. He’s
so close that I can see the desire in his eyes. It’s the same look I saw when I first met him. I thought I imagined it then. He brings his hands up, framing my face. He looks right into my eyes, “If it was about sex…” he brings his lips to my ears, my breathing hitches and I shiver as he continues, “Nevaeh, I would already have you undressed, with your legs wrapped around me, and I’d be buried so deep inside you that leaving me would be the very last thing on your mind.”

He takes a step back
and looks at me with a sexy smirk that makes me want to pull his lips to mine and taste him. His words have me so riled up that now my imagination is running wild with those images and UGH! Shower-I definitely need a cold shower right now. I have to get our conversation back on track right now!

“
Okay, well if that’s true, then what’s with all the girly stuff in the closet?” My voice comes out raspy.

“It’s all yours. I had a friend I work with pick out some stuff
for you. I hope you don’t mind,” his voice is husky but unsure. I’m not sure whether to be pissed or excited that he thought of me. Being pissed wins out. How could he just assume I would agree to this? What gives him the right to buy shit for me? How the hell does he even know my size? I feel skanky, like he’s my sugar daddy without the sex.

He seems to know what I’m thinking and says,
“Look, It’s not like that, okay? It’s not a big deal. You were passed out and I did your laundry, remember? It was easy to check what size you wear.”  Okay, that makes sense, I’ll give him that but I’m still pissed he assumed I’d be okay with this little arrangement he planned. He’s not getting off that easily. “Oh so you just assumed I would be staying here? What the fuck, Angel? Here’s a news flash for you. I can’t be bought, so you can just take all that shit back because I’m out of here.”

I’m trying to open the door a
nd he still won’t let me. I’m two seconds away from punching him in the face when he yells, “Just stop, Nevaeh. Jesus fucking Christ it’s like the lights are on but no one’s home with you sometimes. Was I wrong to assume you would come? Yes. I did it because I hoped I would be able to find you and help you. I wanted to make you see that under all that anger is someone beautiful, and someone worth fighting for. Nevaeh, instead of hiding behind booze and drugs, you could be something so much more. Don’t you see that?”

“No, Angel. O
bviously I don’t see that. You want to know what I see every time I look in the mirror?” With his jaw clenched, he nods his head, and I feel Waves of anger rolling off him. “When I look in the mirror, all that I see is a broken girl. I see a girl who survived when she should have died, a girl who was bounced around from one foster home to another and told she was just a filthy bitch who was only good for sex. I see a girl whose dreams died a long time ago and the only thing that’s keeping me alive right now is drugs and booze.

Happy
now? Do you feel better now that you know the truth? Maybe instead of trying to find me you should’ve just stayed clear of me. Maybe death is the only direction left for me to go. Maybe I don’t want you to try and save me.

I’m so pissed that my body is actually vibrating with anger. The need to punch so
mething is so great, it’s exactly what I do. I punch the damn door with so much force that I hear a crack. Angel heard it too and is trying to grab my hand before I punch the door again. I know I should be crying, collapsing to the floor and writhing in pain, but I’m so angry I don’t feel the pain yet. Instead, I pull my hands away from Angel and reach into my backpack for what I need. I pop 2 Dream pills and chase them down with some Vodka.

Angel
doesn’t look very happy with me right now. Angel paces back and forth in front of me as I sit on the floor waiting for everything to take effect. I can tell he’s angry now but I feel nothing as my little cocktail causes the pain and anger to disappear... I try to stand but I fail. I sigh loudly and Angel, who’s scowling at me, helps me up

“Are you go
ing to let me help you now?” he says, clenching his teeth in anger. It doesn’t faze me, “Whatever Angel, I don’t need your help but, since I can’t exactly drive my bike safely right now, do you mind if I just crash on your couch?” I reply flatly.

“Umm
, no you can’t sleep on the couch. You can go sleep in the room I got ready for you.”

“Oh
, don’t you have just a lovely attitude for an Angel, “I laugh. His scowl deepens.

We make it to the kitchen
, and damn if I wasn’t high, I would be in total awe of this place. I can’t focus enough to process coherent thoughts anymore. He helps me into a chair and I start to tilt to the right. I giggle while Angel curses. It sounds weird when he curses, like it’s a sin, one that I can easily get wrapped up in if I’m not careful. After he gets me righted, he presses on a panel, and out swings a door. Huh, that’s Interesting, so he likes hiding doors. He gets an ice pack, wraps it in a towel and walks back over to me. I look down at my hand and see that two of my fingers are turning purple. I frown. Even in the state I’m in, I know that can’t be good. I try to bend my fingers and nothing happens. I frown again and look up at Angel who looks worried, concerned…angry? Maybe it’s a combination of all three but I don’t care.

He places the ice on my hand. His touch is
surprisingly gentle for how tough his hands look, Hell, for the way he looks! If I was a guy I would be terrified of him. He’s not massive but he’s sturdy. He looks like he’s about five eight or so. He’s at least a good four inches taller than I am anyway. He has wide shoulders, not too narrow of a waist, and muscular thighs. His build reminds me of a football player’s. I try to remember what he looked like without his shirt on, but I come up blank.

“I think we
should take you to the hospital, Nevaeh. I don’t know what you broke and you might need a cast.” His voice breaks me out of my fantasy.

“Umm,
no, to the hospital.” I slur out. Why am I slurring?

“Are you ok?”
he asks trying to catch my eye.

“Umm
, I don’t know,” I’ve never slurred my words, “but hospitals ask questions and take tests,” I manage to say.

He sighs, “Fine
, but in the morning if it looks worse, I’m taking you in,” he commands.

I find myself strange
ly attracted to him right now-more than normal. Maybe it’s because he’s taking care of me, or telling me what to do. Whatever it is, I like it. I like it a lot. He helps me stand up and takes me to the room. I really want to take a bath in that tub.

“Hey Angel, do you think I can take a bath?” I whisper.

“I don’t think tonight would be a good idea. I’m not sure you can keep yourself above the water,” Angel replies back to me, sounding sad.

I just nod my head as he walks me back to the closet. He opens drawers looking for something
, when he holds up a night gown, a sexy night gown, I raise my eyebrows at him, challenging him. He clears his throat. I take my shirt off and drop it next to me, and then he stops breathing. Wincing when I try to unbutton my pants, I switch to my left hand, but I’m having a hard time. I let out a frustrated growl as my hands are swept away. I’m biting my lip as Angel’s shaky fingers work to undo the button and lower the zipper. His breathing has become rapid, mine has stopped. As he places his hands on my hips, hooking his thumbs inside the waist band of my jeans, I feel a shock making me release the breath I was holding.