DAISY

I apply a warm compress to my eyes for a few minutes before adding almond oil, hoping the treatment will diminish the under-eye bags that harshly appear on my face.

I feel tempered, stressed, and irritated, not to mention the aching sorrow that blankets my mental and emotional state, leaving my body too weak to respond to my brain's demands.

My eyes still feel pressured from sleepless nights and the tears I've wept.

I spend an hour under the shower, trying to boost my energy. Not being able to sleep is draining. I want to look better than I feel, but nothing helps. I feel dead.

Just like he wanted.

It is seven in the morning by the time I emerge from the bedroom to make some coffee. I need caffeine after a night like mine.

The whole night, haunting memories of Riley and Kay on the sofa make love, the sounds torturing me. I can't shut my eyes through the darkness of night.

I'm going crazy. Why do I care? Why do I feel something stinging in my chest?

After making my dark coffee, I sit at the counter and sip my beverage, dragging in deep breaths to calm myself.

I silently hope Kay doesn't mean his words. He wouldn't want me dead, would he? That's something he'd punch someone in the face for saying to me. He never let anyone bully me when we were little. He cared about my feelings.

Why can't I find that softness in his eyes anymore?

"Did you find pleasure watching us last night?" I flinch at the sudden voice, which diverts my thoughts.

"What?" I choke.

He circles the island and begins making himself the same coffee, his back to me. "Don't act oblivious. I saw you."

He's wearing a jogger and a plain white sleeveless shirt that exposes his chiseled, tattooed arms.

"I wanted to grab some water," I murmur, which is true. I was thirsty.

He turns around and leans back against the cabinets with both palms behind him on the worktop. His lips form a thin line as he inspects me with attractive, narrow eyes. "Why didn't you?"

"I thought you needed privacy," I fidget under his scrutiny.

"Stop lying. I felt your presence. It's pathetic and the highest grade of creepy." He practically yells.

Why is he suddenly angry? I gave them their privacy.

"I wasn't—I left immediately." Well, that's half true. I didn't actually peep on them, but I heard everything. I spent hours sitting on the cold floor of the corridor, unable to lift my body back to the room.

"Liar," he throws.

"I swear." I swallow the lump in my throat.

I haven't creeped on them. Why won't he believe me?

"Were you turned on?"

What? Is he insane?

"No," I retort immediately.

"Liar." The disdain in his accent is thick.

"Why should I?" I exhale frustratedly and stare back at his remorseless eyes.

His lips curl up. Ignoring my question, he asks, "What did you do when you went back to your room?"

What would I do?

"Nothing." Actually, I cried my eyes out, you idiot.

"Liar." He snorts and begins serving himself the coffee.

"Why don't you believe me?" It sounds desperate, just like I feel.

Dang it!

"Because you're a liar," he states matter-of-factly.

"I never lied to you." I try not to sound whiny, but it hurts so much.

Being rejected and disregarded by someone who once trusted you doesn't just go unnoticed.

He swirls around with a mug in his hand and a scowl on his face. He walks over to the counter, with a challenging gaze, and says, "Piece of advice, you better drop your fake innocent attitude because it only provokes me further. You don't want to push me to the edge." He swallows and furrows his brow. "So you'd better drop anything involving your relationship with Cuppy. You only met him here; you have no idea who he is."

It's clearly a command, which makes me feel vulnerable.

"You expect me to act like I don't know my own dog? You can't tell me what to do with something that's mine."

"I'm not telling you. It's an order." His eyes rise, warning me not to press.

"You think I would comply?" I shake my head in disbelief.

He smiles crookedly and brings the mug to his perfect lips. I want to drink his coffee—No, I don't. "You don't want to try me."

I clear my throat and avert my eyes from his intense gaze. "Don't worry; you don't have to tense up. Riley is my best friend. I wouldn't hurt her. Not because of you."

"Well, good talk. Everything's settled then." His tone is full of satisfaction as he walks away from the kitchen, leaving me alone once more.

Asshole.

That sounded like a good talk to him?

Pushing back my annoyance, I bring the mug to my lips and realize the coffee has turned cold.

Ugh!

I lack the energy to warm it up or the appetite to drink it, so I give in and rinse the cup in the sink before heading to the cupboard to find some aspirin for my pounding headache.

It is ten in the morning when Riley brings me the same white oversized t-shirt she's wearing.

Earlier, after returning to my room, I chatted with my mom on Skype until she fell asleep. We talked about her routine and her need to quit her job for her health. I offered to use my college savings to support her since I have a full scholarship. All I need is to study hard to maintain it. Mom kept refusing my offer as usual. I just want to know she is doing well. I can work to take care of myself, but I can't forgive myself if she gets hurt overworking herself for us.

After the call, I couldn't think clearly, so I decided to check SU's online map, trying to catch up on the necessities and distract myself from my worries.

"It's KC's. I grabbed some from his wardrobe. He has lots of white shirts, and I think they'll do for the painting." She hands me the shirt, and I fight the urge to bring it to my nose.

"Maybe I should use mine. The last thing I need is Kay thinking I stole his shirt."

"They'll stain. You have to use this." She rolls her eyes and they drop on the map on my bed. "Is that SU?"

"Yes. I was just looking through it. I don't know the location of my classes, and I haven't received my schedule yet."

"Don't worry about that. I'll talk to KC. He must know someone who can give you a tour and help you with everything."

"No, I don't want to cause you any worry. I was just mentioning it. I'm sure I'll catch up when school starts."

"Daisy, you're more like a sister to me, even though we're just meeting for the first time. I told you I'm not letting you do this alone. We're in this together. We're here to help each other. You shouldn't worry. I have your back."

I bite my cheek and nod.

I remember writing her something similar; it makes me feel at ease knowing she's still holding on to our promise.

"Now let's go paint this White House taupe. Hopper took Cuppy for a walk; we can take advantage of the silence and get to work." She says gleefully.