Dumps Me, So His Homie Snatches Me Up

Chapter 4

No matter how fast I ran from Kevin, there was no outrunning Henry.

I had just plugged in my phone to charge when the screen exploded with notifications.

Before I could check, my phone lit up with an incoming call.

I panicked and hung up on reflex.

A quick glance at my call log, several missed calls from Kevin. The rest? All Henry.

Then, another message popped up.

Henry: Running away?

I hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Maybe I could play dumb? Pretend I blacked out?

Before I could even type, another message came through.

Henry: Don't give me any 'I was drunk and don't remember' excuses.

Two seconds later, another.

Henry: Playing the coward now? Just you wait.

A chill ran down my spine.

For some reason, it felt like I had been the one to take advantage of him.

And judging by my instincts, I was royally screwed.

Sure enough, when I stepped outside to take out the trash, Henry was already there.

Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching me like a predator that had all the time in the world.

The second our eyes met, he let out a quiet, amused scoff.

"Still counts?" he asked, his voice smooth, deceptively calm.

I instinctively yanked my scarf higher around my neck, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt.

Henry plucked the trash bag from my hand and set it aside.

Before I could react, he had me backed against the door.

"Look," I started, hands flying up in defense. "You really don't have to take responsibility! It's fine! Totally fine!"

His expression didn't change.

"Besides," I rushed on, "I, I don't even remember much. And I won't go around talking about it, I swear!"

Henry exhaled a quiet laugh, dragging a hand down his tie, loosening it slightly.

Panic spiked through me.

"Bro, don't, don't do this. It's broad daylight," I stammered.

Ignoring me, he covered my mouth with one hand while his other casually tugged open his collar.

"Don't remember?" he murmured, tilting his head just enough for me to see it.

A faint bruise.

My handiwork.

"If you really can't recall…" he said slowly, "I might have recorded some audio last night. Want me to play it?"

I wrenched his hand away, shaking my head violently.

"No need! No need at all!"

But the damage was done.

The second I saw the mark on his neck, my mind flooded with flashes of last night.

Heat slammed into my face.

Henry, on the other hand, was completely unfazed.

"You don't have to take responsibility for me," he said, voice maddeningly steady.

"But I want you to."

A beat of silence.

"You ran off right after," he continued, his tone deceptively light. "What am I, just some one-night stand to you?"

The way he said it made me feel like the heartless player here.

Guilt twisted in my stomach.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I was drunk last night."

Henry let out a slow breath, tightening his tie with careful precision.

"You're the one who said we should try," he said, voice unreadable.

I opened my mouth, then closed it.

Because I had said that.

"I thought you were serious."

His gaze dipped, studying me in silence.

Like I was someone who had just toyed with him for fun.

"Forget it," he finally said.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

I stood frozen, watching him disappear through the peephole.

And for some reason, a strange, unwelcome feeling curled in my chest.

Regret.