think about my options while glaring at my two guard dogs on their beds in the corner. I can’t be mad at them. They clearly know Bishop, and dogs are a good judge of character. I still flip them both off because what the hell?
Moving quietly through my room, I open the top drawer and take out a pair of boxers and a loose T-shirt, before bringing everything with me to the bathroom. It takes me fifteen minutes to change, wipe my makeup off, brush my hair and teeth, and apply my seven-step skin routine. I make sure to turn off my bathroom light before opening the door to not wake him, dropping my clothes into my dirty hamper and blowing out my freshly brushed waves. Before climbing onto my bed, I turn on Medusa’s lamp, plug my phone in to charge on my bedside table, and pick up my eye covers from my bedside drawer. Peeling back my covers while slipping the mask on my forehead, I slide into the cool cotton sheets, wriggling deep into the clean covers.
I can’t help it. I know I should go to sleep, but I’m too intrigued by Bishop. I think I always have been from the minute I first saw him. The way he carries himself isn’t charming like Nate, or cold and distant like Brantley, it’s heavy. My heart swells in my chest. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such pain like I do when I think of Bishop.
“You can stop analyzing me,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with sleep. Slowly, he lifts his arm above his head, sliding the hoodie off while doing it. His full face is in view now. His sharp profile and pouty lips. The two beauty spots he has on his cheek and his floppy brown hair. “I must have crashed. Sorry.” He goes to push himself up from my bed, but he winces, falling back down. “Fucking hate beer.”
“I can’t relate.”
“You’re weird,” he murmurs, but rests back on top of the bed.
“That’s not insulting to me.” I slip my hands beneath my cheek on the pillow. “You can stay.”
He kicks off his shoes, removing his hoodie until he’s in a white tee with rips in it. I can see all of his tattoos now. So many tattoos. I really like them. While he’s reaching for the throw that sits as decoration at the end of the bed, I try to focus my eyes on the art that’s skillfully inked into his skin, thanks to Medusa’s light allowing me to do so. I love any form of art. Tattoos are no exception.
He’s lying back onto the other pillow when he rolls to the side, his eyes colliding with mine. “She wasn’t supposed to leave again.”
My brows furrow and it takes me a second to catch the meaning behind his words. Madison. “Again?”
Bishop chuckles, shaking his head. “I don’t even fuckin’ know why I’m talking to you about this. I don’t talk to anyone about her.” He pauses, catches his breath before whispering, “Or maybe I do know.”
“She always leaves you?” I further pry, snuggling into my warm covers.
“She’s a runner.” He yawns, his jaw clenching. “Every time shit gets hard, she fucking runs.”
“And you don’t like that?”
“I don’t fucking need it. I’m taking the gavel in two months. I need her to be strong, or vulnerable, or whatever, but it needs to be beside me.”
“Just because she runs, doesn’t mean she’s not strong, Bishop.”
He studies me closely. Too closely. He searches my face like he’s trying to solve a crime. “How so?”
“You are obviously in love with each other.”
“Eh, I’d call it an obsession—”
I glare at him.
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, we are, but it’s toxic.”
A soft yawn escapes my mouth. “Doesn’t matter. Love doesn’t care who it destroys to get what it wants.”
“Back to what you were saying.”
I yawn, my eyes feeling heavy. “Well, not many people have the strength to run away from someone they love.”
“You don’t know the full story.” His voice is distant, so distant I almost think I imagined it.
“Lucky we have a full lifetime for you to tell me.”
There was cocaine lined out on a glass coffee table. Deftones “Changes” blasted through the night, while a bonfire licked warmth all over my skin. I was in a daze, grabbing the hundred-dollar bill from the guy who drove, who I now know is Bishop, and brought it to my nose, sniffing the line down in one go. I flopped backward onto