Unwelcome

Chapter Six: Unwelcome

I stared at her.

Not because I wanted to—but because my brain hadn’t caught up with what my eyes were seeing.

She was completely naked.

Rain soaked through my clothes, dripping from my hair, sliding down my spine, pooling at my feet—but somehow, that wasn’t what made me feel exposed.

It was this.

Standing outside Andre Clark’s building. At midnight. Looking like I’d been dragged through a storm. While a naked girl answered the door like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“I…” My voice came out thin. “I’m looking for Andre.”

She tilted her head, slow, assessing. Not embarrassed. Not surprised. Just… curious.

“Of course you are,” she said, as if it explained everything.

I swallowed. My fingers curled into my sleeves. “Is he—”

“Busy?” she cut in, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. He’s busy.”

Something in my chest tightened.

I hated how quickly my mind filled in the blanks.

The late nights. The girls. The noise through the walls Cole had joked about once, like it was nothing.

I shifted my weight, suddenly aware of how cold I was. “Can you just tell him Anna is here?”

She didn’t move.

Didn’t even try to cover herself.

Instead, her eyes dragged over me—wet clothes, trembling hands, probably smeared mascara.

God.

I must have looked pathetic.

“And you are?” she asked.

I hesitated.

Why did that question feel loaded?

“His best friend’s girlfriend.”

That did it.

Something flickered across her face—interest, maybe amusement.

“Oh,” she said softly. “You’re that Anna.”

My stomach dropped.

Before I could ask what that meant, she stepped back, leaving the door open behind her.

“Come in,” she said casually. “You’re making a puddle out here.”

For a second, I didn’t move.

Everything in me resisted this. The space. The implication. Him.

But the rain came down harder, as if it were deciding for me.

So I stepped inside.

—

Warmth hit me instantly.

It wrapped around my soaked skin, almost painful after the cold. The marble floors gleamed under soft lighting, the entire place too clean, too open, too… him.

Glass walls. City lights stretched endlessly beyond them.

It didn’t feel like a home.

It felt like a place people passed through.

Like the girl currently walking ahead of me, completely unbothered, completely at ease.

She disappeared down a hallway without another word.

I stood there, dripping onto the floor, unsure what to do with myself.

This was a mistake.

Every instinct I had told me that.

I should’ve stayed at the dorm. Slept on the steps. Called someone else. Anyone else.

Not him.

Not Andre.

A sound broke through my thoughts.

Footsteps.

Slow. Unhurried.

I didn’t turn immediately.

I knew it was him.

I felt it before I saw him.

“Pope.”

My eyes shut briefly.

Of course.

I turned.

Andre stood a few feet away, leaning slightly against the wall like he’d been there longer than I realized. His hair was damp, like he’d just showered. A loose shirt hung off him, unbuttoned at the top, sleeves pushed up carelessly.

His gaze moved over me once.

Just once.

But it was enough.

“Didn’t realize Yale started admitting drowned students,” he said.

Same tone. Same indifference.

Like nothing had changed.

Like that night—whatever it was—had never happened.

Good.

That was good.

I straightened slightly, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Cole said I could stay here.”

A pause.

Not long—but noticeable.

His jaw ticked.

“Of course he did.”

I frowned. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“And I’m the nearest charity?” he shot back, pushing off the wall.

Something in me snapped at that.

“I didn’t ask to be here, Andre.”

“Then leave.”

The words landed sharp.

Immediate.

For a second, neither of us moved.

The rain pounded harder against the glass behind me, like it was echoing the silence.

I laughed—but there was no humor in it. “Right. I’ll just go back out there, then.”

His eyes flicked toward the window.

Then back to me.

Something shifted—subtle, but there.

Annoyance… mixed with something else.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “You look like hell.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t make it worse by talking.”

I opened my mouth—

Closed it.

Because arguing with him felt like stepping into quicksand. The more I pushed, the worse it got.

He exhaled sharply, like he was already over this.

“Stay,” he said finally. “One night.”

Relief came fast—and I hated it.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he replied immediately. “It’s for Cole.”

Of course it was.

I nodded anyway.

A beat passed.

Then another.

Neither of us moved.

And suddenly, I became very aware of everything.

My soaked clothes cling to my skin.

The water drips from my hair onto his pristine floor.

The way his eyes hadn’t quite stopped looking at me—even if his expression stayed flat.

“Bathroom’s down the hall,” he said, gesturing lazily. “Second door.”

I hesitated. “I don’t have any clothes.”

“I figured.”

His gaze dropped briefly—too briefly—to my legs, then back up.

“Don’t get used to it,” he added, already turning away. “I’ll find something.”

Something about that—about how easily he shifted, how unaffected he seemed—made my chest tighten again.

Like I was the only one feeling… anything.

“Andre.”

He stopped.

Didn’t turn.

I swallowed. “The girl at the door—”

“Not your concern.”

The answer came too fast.

Too clean.

I pressed my lips together. “Right.”

He glanced over his shoulder then, eyes sharp.

“For your sake, Pope,” he said quietly, “I’d keep it that way.”

And then he walked off.

Leaving me standing there—

Cold, wet,

And suddenly very aware

that this was going to be a lot harder than just one night.