Mess To Be Made

26

"Will you stay here tonight?"

Tyler's face remained blank and my heart hammered in my chest as I waited for his response. Too many seconds had passed, and I felt I had my answer. So I removed my hand from his arm, planning on going inside by myself.

My hand barely made it an inch away from his arm though before he snatched it with his own hand. Squeezing our palms against one another, he nodded.

I mimicked his nod in acknowledgement before looking down to my purse so I could find my keys.

It was silent and dark inside. I knew my mom was home because her car was in the driveway, so we both remained quiet as we scaled the staircase and went into my bedroom. Even though I'd removed my hand from Tyler's when I searched for my keys, he positioned himself right behind me, so if I leaned back even in the slightest, his chest would graze my shoulder blades. He only moved away once my bedroom door was closed and I flicked on the lights.

I wasn't sure if Tyler was going to react the way he had the last two times we'd been in each other's bedrooms. I didn't have the energy to care much this time though. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed. I knew I needed to shower though. Not just because I felt as though I had a layer of dirt laced over my skin, but because I knew, from a health perspective, it was a necessity. Landon had touched me, in more ways than one, and I needed to scrub myself of him.

"I have to shower," I told Tyler quietly, grabbing pajamas from my dresser. When he didn't respond, I glanced at him. He was standing next to the door and staring at me with lowered eyebrows, that hint of the copper in his eyes glinting under my bedroom lights. His mind seemed elsewhere.

Now that I was returning his gaze, he nodded. I made it to my bathroom door before he asked, "Do you have ice?"

I felt my brows draw together and I looked at him again. He face remained stoic. "Ice?"

I saw impatience flash across his eyes. Right. Dumb question.

"Yeah, we have an ice machine in the kitchen," I replied. He nodded and swiftly left my bedroom.

I found myself shaking my head at his random request as I went into the bathroom, shutting the door and turning on the shower to the hottest setting. I stood under the water, scrubbing every inch of me until my skin was bright red and raw, and frustrated tears were flowing down my face. I slowly began to accept the fact that no matter how long I sat under the stream of steaming water, no matter how many times I rubbed the bar of soap into my skin, I wasn't going to feel better.

The sad thing was, I already knew this. Which made it even more pitiful that I thought I could try.

After drying off and changing into my pajama shorts and t-shirt, I stared in the mirror. I looked worse than I imagined. My eyes were puffy, my lips swollen. I saw wrinkles on my forehead that I'd never seen before. Tyler wasn't wrong—my right cheek was noticeably red. Even though the rest of my skin was now tinted red from the hot water, it wasn't difficult to see the difference. My cheek was a scarlet red. A bruised red.

I looked away, realizing I'd start crying again if I kept looking at my disgusting self. And with Tyler here, I simply wasn't allowed to cry anymore.

Exiting the bathroom, my eyes were drawn to Tyler, who was sitting on the edge of my bed. He was staring at the wall he was facing, so intently he didn't hear me come out of the bathroom at all. The crease between his eyebrows was prominent. I didn't even want to begin to know what he was thinking, but I wasn't sure what to say. So I finally asked, "You okay?"

He didn't move at first, but I saw his eyes shift, like they were coming back to reality from somewhere far away. Then he slowly turned his head and looked at me. His eyes scanned my body—not suggestively. Like he was searching for something.