Hateful Love ( Vegaspete )

Chapter 8

Vegas' POV:

"I am going back home" I said while massaging my head that was hurting so bad as if it was about to burst.

I knew pete must already be in his college since it was a working day so going home wasn't a problem.

I reached the room and after throwing away my tie and shoes and undoing the first few buttons of my shirt, collapsed on the bed.

Vegas' POV Ends.

Third person POV:

"The room feels so much quieter without that chirpy chick" He melted into the bed as his mind and eyes started shutting down to give him a little break but barely had he rested for a little while, when his phone started ringing because of a text.

"I swear this world makes me want to murder people" He grudgingly thought as he picked up the phone to check who the text was from and abruptly sat up after seeing the name of the sender.

It was from Porsche. He excitedly opened the chat to check what had he sent but to his mild disappointment it was not exactly for him.

"Hey, Pete just texted me that he accidentally left his notebook on his desk, can you bring to me? I am in the parking lot" The text read.

"Why does he care so much about Pete?" Vegas muttered feeling irritated but letting go of his grudge, he went on to look for the notebook.

Thankfully it was right on Pete's desk. Vegas picked it up but accidentally dropped it before he could secure a proper hold on it.

It had opened up after falling down but not paying much attention to it, Vegas picked it up. However, just as he was about to close it, he caught a glimpse of a word that looked a lot like "flirt" which piqued his interest.

He flipped through the pages and soon the page which Pete and Charlie had used to communicate with each other in the library opened up.

"Well...cute guy sitting right beside me?" His eyebrows furrowed as he read the lines written.

"This doesn't look like Pete's handwriting...is it some other guy's?" A number of possibilities started crossing his mind all of a sudden.

"No wonder his clothes had a different scent on them yesterday. I wonder if he had purposely left them in the washroom for me to see it." He muttered to himself as he clutched the notebook tightly.

He was feeling agitated and picked his phone up to call someone in order to gather every information regarding Pete's activities in his college and about the person he was talking to but stopped before hitting the dial button.

"But why should I care?" A conflict arose inside his mind.
The grudge he had was stopping him from following his heart.

He threw his phone on the bed and closed the notebook after glancing over it for one last time. He sat down on the sofa to calm his agitated self down which wanted to both refrain from taking any action as well as keep Pete away from other guys.

Right then his phone rang again reminding him of the task that he was supposed to do. He went towards the bed to pickup the phone and opened it only to find another text from Porsche.

"Did you get it?" It read.

"Yes" He kept the reply compact and hurried down to deliver the notebook to him.

"How's your headache?" Porsche asked while shoving the notebook into the backpack.

"Still killing me" Vegas whined.

"Then...sorry for making you work...did you take any medicine?" Porsche asked, feeling a little guilty for making him work while he was sick but Vegas was in no mood to give a simple reply.