Unloved: A Novel (The Undone)

Leaving him in the shower alone feels akin to leaving a mopey puppy alone.

But I need a breather, and so does he. We can’t keep pushing the boundaries of our friendship like this. It’s too valuable to me.

Instead, I pace back and forth across his organized mess of a room. Should I disappear before he’s back to save us both?

The bathroom door opens with the shower still on in the background, steam billowing out behind him.

Freddy, with a towel slung around his waist sloppily, held together by a fist at his side, like he couldn’t be bothered to really cover himself. Every step he takes flashes his thigh all the way up to his hip joint, water droplets tracing the butterfly tattoo across his pinkened skin.

I have the sudden urge to google “Can humans swallow their tongues?” to assure myself I’m not in need of a hospital.

As much as I adore Freddy, have tried to make every thought about him as “friend-zone” as possible, his beauty is hard to ignore. He’s so handsome—the sharp cut of his jaw, his thick, pursed lips that I know taste like candy. His blond hair is darker now, still wet as it drips over his powerful shoulders and down the plane of his muscular abdomen.

“Ro?” he says. Like he’s been trying to get my attention while I’ve been ogling him.

“Yeah?” My cheeks heat in mild embarrassment.

“You can shower.” He steps aside, again flashing his thigh indecently. “I laid a towel out for you. And I’ll grab you some clothes to wear—if you want.”

Say no. Say, “Thank you, Matt, but I should call a car and go home tonight.”

Instead, I nod and head right in, washing off the night under the steamy warm spray. I search the surprisingly large bin of different products his bathroom boasts, finding a few travel-sized face washes and moisturizers, and excellent hair care products, all in mismatched bins and drawers.

I shouldn’t be so surprised at the selection. The boy is gorgeous, clearly well kept in terms of his appearance and hygiene.

Taking my time—not to avoid him, I swear to myself—I emerge with reddened skin, grabbing the clothes he’s left at the threshold before closing the door all the way. There’s a pair of short athletic shorts with a drawstring I’m able to tie up on my waistline, and a shirt that hangs just an inch past the shorts—which only adds to the illusion that I’m not wearing pants, thanks to the extreme length of my legs.noveldrama

For some reason, I thought he might be fully clothed by the time I came back out. Instead, he’s lying across his unmade bed in tight gray boxer briefs that leave basically nothing to the imagination. I dart my eyes to the ceiling, which somehow feels worse, so I shift and stare down at my feet.

“I, um—” I clear my throat, neck hot even though my curls are still piled high on my head.

“Can you…” he says before lifting himself on his elbows. His abs flex and relax with the motion, like some sexed-up underwear model. But his face is still very much “kicked puppy,” brows furrowed and eyes sad. I hate it.

I walk a little closer, drawn in by his magnetism.

“Will you sleep here?” he asks, hand reaching out for mine. I take his, letting our fingers play along each other’s. “Just, stay.”

“Okay.”

I flip off the light. Something plays on the TV, muted but colorful enough to cast a glow over us—the same two guys eating ridiculous food at a desk, a comfort show he often turns on. It’s calm and relaxing, welcoming in a strange way.

Melting into the bed, I stay on the side he’s left for me until warm arms wrap around my waist and tug me back to a hard, warm chest.

“Is this okay?”

His whisper dances across the skin beneath my ear and I shiver.

“Yes.” The word is barely a breath.

“I just want to hold you. Just for tonight, please.”

It takes far too long to fall asleep with the light puff of his breaths against my neck, distracting and lovely.

It’s Friday afternoon, and Sadie has given me free rein over her hair and makeup—besides her signature dark lipstick, which I would never change even if she let me.

“You haven’t let me do your hair in a long time.” I smile down at her in the mirror. “Actually, have you ever—”

“Shut up,” she laughs, elbowing me gently in the hip. She bites down on her lip, inspecting the updo I’ve created for her. “It looks… incredible.”

Her words are sincere, genuine in the way Sadie always is, no matter if it’s praise or criticism. She’s got a hard exterior, always has, but I can see the softer pieces of her shining through the more she’s around Rhys Koteskiy.

He treats the tough-as-nails girl like she’s made of glass, and I think there is something in Sadie that is slowly, finally relaxing under his care.

“Can I see the dress now?” she asks, the words a little disjointed as she keeps her mouth mostly open to coat her lips in the dark cherry color.

“Yes!”

Excitedly, I rush to the closet door of the spare room in the Hockey House—now furnished with two twin-sized roll-away beds that I know Rhys bought for Sadie’s brothers so they can stay over with her and have somewhere other than their less-than-happy home to go to.

After taking out the black silk dress, simple and elegant in a way Sadie can pull off with ease, I turn and present it a little dramatically to my best friend.

Her pretty gray eyes go wide, skin flushing as she steps closer and runs her hand along the fabric.

“Oh my God,” I blurt out. “Are you going to cry?”

“No!” She nearly shouts, batting at her eyes. “I— No, I didn’t. I mean, I’m not!”

She very clearly is about to cry.

“Sadie,” I whine, tears springing to my eyes. She bats me away as I try to hug her, shaking her head rapidly.

“No.” She scoots back and I chase after her, still holding the dress. “You did this to me—I don’t cry over this stuff.”

Putting a hand over my heart, I stop and look at her like she’s the last sweet little kitten up for adoption.

“I don’t think it’s my fault at all,” I say, turning to hang the dress on the doorframe. “I think you’re all soft and gooey cause you’re in loooove.” I say the last word in singsong and wiggle my eyebrows at her before ducking down in case she decides to throw one of her strappy heels at me.

“This is ridiculous,” she grumbles. She pulls my fuzzy robe a little tighter around her shoulders, and it swallows her entire body. But still, she doesn’t deny my claim.

She is in love with him.

“You should tell him.”

Her lips turn down, brow furrowing lightly as she looks herself over in the mirror. Does she see the same thing I do when I look at her? The strongest, most self-assured girl I know. Someone to look up to, admirable in so many ways.

“Maybe,” she whispers.

I remove the dress from the hanger and Sadie takes it from my hands, stepping into the bathroom, half closing the door to slip it on.

“Can you zip me?” she calls out seconds later.

I step into the pristine, empty bathroom, smiling brightly at how beautiful the dress looks on her, the slit perfect for her muscular thigh, the entire cut of the garment elongating her short stature.

“You know,” Sadie says, a little glint in her eye as I find the zipper pull low on her back, pulling slowly so the fabric doesn’t catch. “You could be coming with us. Bennett would be happy to take you. Rhys said he’s never taken a date.”

Bennett would be happy to take someone, but I’d bet we’ll never know who that is if even Rhys doesn’t know.

“Or Freddy?”

The question is pointed, and I want to prod her on how much she knows.

Specifically, if she knows that Freddy did ask me. After showing up at my classroom and waiting for me to get out, he asked me if I could please, please help him with finding a suit to wear, even offering to get me an extra-large dirty chai for going shopping with him.

The bribery was very unneeded, but I let him take care of me.

We spent the afternoon at a few shops in downtown Waterfell, eventually stopping at a vintage store I’ve frequented before—mostly because the blue suit in the window easily caught my eye. It didn’t fit him when he tried it on, but I knew the alterations were easy enough for me to do for him.

And in the quiet of my dorm room late one night, after measuring his broad chest turned to labored breathing from us both and another almost-kiss, he backed away with a signature smile and settled himself on my bed, though he never looked comfortable, instead stiff and anxious.

“You know you could come with me—be my date.”

It made my heart soar. For a long moment, I considered it. Imagined it.

But I remembered the date marked on the calendar hung on the fridge, circled in red with hearts. Sadie told me about it with true, blinding excitement when she asked me to watch Oliver and Liam.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head with a pained grin that made my chest hurt and nodded. “Right. Right, of course.”

I know Sadie would hire a sitter—which she hates to do when she doesn’t know them—if I even hinted at wanting to go. But I want Sadie to have fun for once. Real fun that makes her feel full and not empty afterward.

Rhys is good for her. Love is good for her.

“Is this you playing matchmaker now?”

Sadie grins. “C’mon, tutor and athlete?” The question is playful, mocking how much I’ve teased her cliché of figure skater and hockey player making the perfect romance pair.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say. The ache of Freddy’s familiar words and knowing I’ll face him downstairs in a pretty suit coat I helped him select is enough to have me fidgeting, desperate to get out. “Besides, you need someone to watch Oliver and Liam.”

“The Koteskiys probably wouldn’t mind if they came,” Sadie says, but her words are tinged with anxiety, like she’s not sure of the truth of that statement.

Do this for her.

“Honestly, I’m excited to have them for the night.”

Sadie shakes her head. “No, just grab them from practice—they’re having pizza night tonight, so it’ll run late anyway. And then you can bring them to the dorm or wherever until the gala is over. But I figured they can stay here.”

“You sure? If you and Rhys want to have time alone—”

“No, I don’t wanna leave them for another night so soon.”

Acquiescing, I nod and fix one of the fluttering strands of her curtain bangs that I know for a fact she cuts herself once a month. If I had the budget for extra, I’d send her to a proper salon. She has the perfect hair for something cool and creative—something more than my YouTube hair scholar information created tonight.

“Ready?”

To see Matt Fredderic in a suit that nearly made me choke on my dirty chai the first time? No. No, I am not.

Still, I nod and lend her my arm to help her slip on her strappy heels before she heads for the stairs.