Read Torn - Part Two (The Torn Series) for Free Online

hair a bushy mess, wearing only a long t-shirt.
     
    “I didn’t know you stayed the night.”
     
    “Didn’t answer my question, Mal.”
     
    I pushed passed her and ducked into the bathroom. “Mind your business.”
     
    What the hell was Jen so protective for, anyway? Just because of the band? I’d heard her making fun of Riley before, when she thought no one but her small audience was listening. “Naive little bumpkin” was amongst her nicer terms. She’s a bitch. That’s all the explanation required.
     
    I threw my clothes on and deliberately avoided meeting my eye in the mirror. Not that I thought I’d done anything wrong. I hadn’t. And I wasn’t a stranger to fucking and running. But I turned my back anyway and ducked out the door.
     
    Jen was gone, thank God. I took the stairs two at a time on my way out the front door and practically jogged to the subway station. Maybe I should have left a note. I knew Riley would be upset that I’d gone with no goodbye, no message at all. I didn’t want to stick around and have breakfast and play nice but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings either, so I shot her a quick text - “had to run to practice” - before heading underground.
     
    Practice wasn’t for another couple hours but I did want to get home to shower and grab my things. And maybe take a nap - we’d stayed up pretty damn late. And we sure as hell hadn’t gotten much sleep.
     
    “The champion returns!” Lockett announced when I finally entered our apartment. I was way too tired for his antics.
     
    “When did you head home?” I asked. I’d missed nearly half the party while I was closed away with Riley.
     
    “’Round midnight,” he said. He was actually wearing a shirt - it meant he must have been leaving. “Coming to Lee’s?” he asked.
     
    “Yeah, in a bit,” I said, waving him on towards the door. “Where’d Surly end up?”
     
    Lockett grinned. “Already at the gym, cursing your name.”
     
    Damn, what time was it? I checked my phone - after ten. No wonder he was pissed. “Fuck.”
     
    “I’ll tell him you’re on your way,” he said on his way out the door.
     
    I didn’t want to be “on my way,” I wanted to go back to sleep, but Surly was counting on me.
     
    I had a new text, too, and didn’t have to guess who it was from. “Playing another show on Thursday - be there?” Well, at least she wasn’t begging to talk or to hang out immediately, or berating me for taking off. She didn’t have to say it - I still felt guilty. Sleeping with her hadn’t cleared her from my head at all. Not that I’d honestly believed it would, I’d just sort of hoped, but still. This is such bullshit. Just bullshit guilt and stupid feelings all tangled up in that little punk package - was there any cure at all?
     
    “I’ll be there,” my fingers typed back.
     
    That was enough. I shook my head. Time to go punch things.
     
    ○●○●○●○●○
     
    Luckily Surly himself was nearly as hungover as I was and wasn’t in a mood to berate me for it. We worked through our routines of drills - repeating different moves over and over to work on muscle memory, spending time on the bags - and didn’t actually spar in the ring for once.
     
    “No more partying until after our matches,” he declared in the locker room afterward. He had dark circles under his eyes and was nearly soaked in his own sweat - and I was in the exact same state myself.
     
    “Maybe we need a day off,” I grumbled.
     
    My feet took me home but my mind was elsewhere. Where was Riley? Was she working, were they practicing, what were they doing? Was she only pretending to be okay with how I’d snuck on out of her room that morning? Or worse, was she totally okay with it? Did she want me to leave?
     
    Fuck. I was overthinking everything. I was turning into her. I couldn’t have a moment of peace to myself anymore. She’d taken over my damn brain.
     
    Cursing myself, I texted her. Fuck it. I