Page 47 of Twisted Needs

TOO MUCH

ANDERS

“Hey,” I tell Parker when he comes down the stairs. It’s a little late for him to be awake on a weekend morning. Usually he’s up before nine, even on his days off.

“Morning,” he mutters, something feeling off immediately.

Parker heads straight for the coffee machine where I already have a mug waiting for him with creamer inside. Exactly the way he takes it. Normally he’d tap the counter twice beside me in thanks. It’s something small, but the acknowledgement goes a long way. Today—nothing. My stomach tightens as Parker picks up the mug and fills it without saying another word.

“Are you feeling alright?” I ask, watching him over the rim of my own coffee.

“Fine.” The answer comes too quickly. “I just have a headache. Drank too much beer last night probably.”

“Do you need a Pedialyte or something?”

“I’m fine.” He still won’t look at me.

I stare at the side of his face for a second, replaying the events of last night in my head. We flirted at Verona’s. He brushed me off. Then he kissed me. We came home and Parker immediately locked himself inside his room for the rest of the night.

I push myself off the stool and walk over to the counter with my empty mug. When I set it down beside him, he shifts away before I can even touch him. It’s just a small movement, but the fact that he doesn’t even realize he did it is what really hits hard. “You’re acting weird,” I mutter carefully.

Maybe he’s still upset that I said I was going to Seth’s. I don’t know why I lied. I could’ve just told him the truth and said I was going to Lee’s for a debrief. But it got me the reaction I was fishing for.

Now that the next day has come, I completely regret it.

Parker exhales slowly through his nose like I’m already testing his patience.

“Are you feeling alright?” I ask again.

“I’m fine.”

I exhale through my nose. “You don’t seem fine.”

“I’m hungover.” His answer almost sounds rehearsed.

I stare at him for a minute, but Parker’s coffee suddenly becomes the most interesting thing to him. The silence grows more painful and awkward by the second. “You know,” I say carefully, “most people make eye contact when they’re talking to someone.”

Parker finally looks at me, but I almost wish he hadn’t. His expression is completely void of emotion. “Happy?”

“No, I’m not fucking happy.” The words slip out before I can stop myself. My pulse starts climbing. “What happened after last night?” I demand.

“Nothing.”

“Did I do something?”

“No.”

Oh my God. I can’t do this. I can’t do the one word answers. What the hell is happening here?

“Then why are you acting like this?” I raise my voice, almost yelling out of frustration. But because I'm also hurt that he’s treating me like we’re no better than strangers.

Parker closes his eyes for a second, huffing out a deep breath like he’s counting to ten. When he opens them again, he looks exhausted. “I have a headache.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Anders—”

“No.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Why are you being so cold to me?”