Sometimes he loves me

Chapter 4

EMMA

I look up, greeted with the sight of a guy holding a bottle of beer in his hand. He struggles to keep himself upright by leaning on the kitchen counter with his other hand. I look around to see if he's really talking to me or to someone behind me, but obviously I'm the only one here wearing socks instead of shoes.

"Yes, I'm talking to you." He states, after which he takes another gulp of his beer. Splashes fall on his polo shirt and leave familiar stains. The fucking nerves are taking control of my body again, suddenly making it hard to think of a response.

"Cat caught your tongue?" He laughs.

"They're in my room." As those words leave my lips I immediately regret them. I don't want this guy to know that I live here, I don't even know who he is.

"So you live here?" He smiles as he looks at me with sluggish bloodshot eyes.

I don't answer and only focus my attention on my noodles so I don't have to look at him, conversations are easier for me when I don't have to make eye contact.

"You know, I'm here every Friday and Saturday for the parties, we'll see a lot of each other then."

I suppress a sigh. I guess I'm stocking up food in my room on the weekends to watch Netflix in bed.

When I look up at him briefly, I see that he is looking at my body and licking his lips with his tongue. I decide to ignore his eyes on me. He's drunk and probably doesn't even know what he is doing anyway.

"I have to go." I say.

My nerves killed my appetite, but I decide to take my noodles with me in case I might still get hungry.

"Come drink with me." He says, before I can even move.

"No, thank you." I respond in an extra friendly manner, like I always do when I want to avoid any communication with a stranger. I carefully grab my noodles, but as soon as I see his hand go up, I quickly put the container with scalding hot water down. He's so drunk he probably won't even feel the water burning his skin, but I would. And I know from experience that drunk people make the most unexpected moves.

He puts his hand on my arm and looks at me with pleading eyes. "Oh come on! We're friends now, aren't we?"

"Sorry, I... " I begin, but I don't really know what to say. I want him to leave me alone, but I also don't want to insult or upset him by rejecting him. I don't know how he will respond to that.

"Leave her alone, Kevin." A muscled arm with tattoos stretches over the guy, who's apparently named Kevin, and takes a glass from the cupboard. I keep my eyes on my noodles, but from the corner of my eye I see that it's the tall, dark-haired guy from the group that offered me his assistance earlier today.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Kevin asks as he staggers back from him. He sounds a little tense, if at all possible with so much alcohol in his blood.

"My problem is you, harassing the girls at this party every weekend, while they clearly have no interest in you." Is his answer as he towers over Kevin. "You remember the promise I made you if you kept doing that?" I secretly look up and see him looking down at Kevin, while Kevin looks at the floor like a lost dog. He seems... scared? I almost feel bad for him.

"I suggest you drink some water and sober up." The tall all guy continues in a low voice.

While I wonder if I should say something, Kevin suddenly walks away and I notice the kitchen became a bit busier. People are busy refilling their cups with the liquid that makes them forget all of their problems. Temporarily of course.

My eyes dart to the guy as he fills his glass with brown liquid. For a moment I'm mesmerised by the tattoo on his temple and let my eyes wander to his hair. The sides are shaved short and the rest a bit longer tied in a messy bun again. Strains of hair fall over his forehead and my eyes dart to the stretchers in his ear and then to the tattoo in his neck.

"You know you're allowed to say thank you, Darling." He looks down at me.

"Thank you." I quickly say, not recognizing my own bravery to even say something back so sudden. But as I stare into the depth of his black eyes I feel empty. Any thoughts I usually have in situations like this vanish.

"Are you having fun?" he asks calmly, his gaze softening.

"I'm not here for the party." I explain and look away.

"I figured." When I look back at him again he grins and then takes a sip of his drink. "You're new here, aren't you?" he asks, studying me.

"Is it that obvious?" I ask, feeling a little lost when a little smile appears on my lips. I look away and frown my eyebrows, stunned by how easy it is to talk to him.

Suddenly two hands are placed in front of my eyes from behind, causing me to turn around in shock.

"Vincent?" I ask in surprise and relief at the same time. It feels so good to see a familiar face. I broadly smile at him.

"Hey babe. Did you miss me?" he asks, as he smiles at me and then kisses me. His blonde stubble scratches my skin, probably leaving red marks later. I hate it when he doesn't shave, but I kiss him back anyway.

"Of course." I giggle. I throw my hands around his neck in a hug. The last time we saw each other was two weeks ago when he bought me a plane ticket to visit him in New York.

Vincent glances at the guy next to me and I quickly grab my noodles, hook an arm through his and lead him out of the kitchen.

"How was your flight?" I ask to distract him from what he may have seen. I almost trip over my words from the speed with which they roll off my tongue. "I called you back, didn't you see it? And how did you get in anyway? How did you find me?" I load him with questions, happy to finally talk to someone I know and afraid of the questions he'll ask about the guy.

While we walk to my room, he tells about his flight. Also that the front door was open and that he just walked around campus until he found me in the kitchen.

When I open my door and close it behind us, I feel a sharp pain shoot through my upper arm and I look at Vincent's fingers suddenly wrapped around it. It's a miracle I don't spill my noodles by the force.

"What was that?" He asks terrifyingly calm. His piercing blue eyes take the air out of my lungs, but I don't dare to look away. Too afraid he'll grab my face if I do.

"What?" I ask in a choked voice, but I already know what he's talking about.

"You didn't call, or pick up when I did. I was worried about you, Emma."

"I fell asleep, I'm sorry!"

"I have a shed full of sorry's. If our phone calls bore you, why not go back to your new friend you were chatting with in the kitchen?"

I pull my arm free from his grip and straighten my back.

"He's not my new friend. We barely exchanged words." I sigh, knowing I might as well be talking to a fucking wall.