For What It's Worth

Chapter Three : Split Ends

S P L I T  E N D S

Isabelle

After Sam kindly fixed me up with some toast for breakfast, we follow Thomas out to his car so he can take us back to his apartment.

Anyone can see that he really doesn't want to be within ten feet of me let alone want to live with me and, don't get me wrong, I'm grateful - but it's probably almost the last place I want to be. However, I'm fucking desperate. Beggars can't be choosers and right now - I'm a beggar.

Sam lets out a low whistle at the sight of Thomas' grey, expensive car.

"Shotgun!" Sam calls over his shoulder, bounding over to the car. I follow behind Thomas who lets out a chuckle and clicks his keys.

His brown hair has been neatly trimmed around the back, cutting a perfect line against his tanned skin. The definition of his body pokes out of his top as he moves. Sam opens the door and pulls the seat forward, letting me in the back.

"Milady." Sam offers me his hand, putting on a British accent as I duck into the car. The interior is leather and smells like a brand new car, that'll probably be because it is one.

"Seatbelts." Thomas instructs and I buckle myself in. He smoothly pulls away and starts driving. Him and Sam burst into conversation about how nice the car is.

Their voices soon fade out and I stop trying to listen over the terrible rap playlist they've chosen to put on. I prop my elbow up and stare out of the window, my chin in my hand. I think over how I don't know much about Sam but still feel safe with him and in his apartment.

My trust in people isn't what it used to be. I'm more aware, maybe too wary now but only because of how naïve I've been. There's a part of me that feels comfortable with the both of them and with the idea of staying at Thomas' place. Maybe it's because he's friends with Sam and I like Sam.

"Right Isabelle?"

"Hmm?" I lift my head after hearing my name. The volume of the poor excuse of the music playing, is decreased.

"I said, I'm sure this isn't half as comfortable as your car." Thomas says sarcastically, bragging. I challenge his green eyes that watch me in the mirror. What is it with guys and their stupid cars?

"Yeah." I respond, unamused. "I'm sure whichever assholes stole my car would much rather have yours." I stare, waiting for him to look back at the road. He does and then I rest my head back against the seat, turning away.

**

After another ten minutes, which I spend in silence, Thomas parks his car in the underground parking lot of the apartment complex. The two boys hop out of the car and I push my way forward almost falling out. I swing my rucksack on my back as Sam shuts the door after me. Thomas leads the way not even waiting for me to get out. Sam gently bumps my shoulder.

"You okay?" He asks, keeping his voice quiet enough so Thomas doesn't hear.

"Yeah, I'm just tired." I reply with a nod. Sam doesn't push for any other answers but his blue eyes are filled with concern.

It's true. I am tired. I've had sleepless nights planning my get away and then two bad nights in my car and one on Sam's couch. But with that being said, last night was definitely the best rest I've had in a long time.

We take the elevator up to the hallway I was in yesterday. Thomas unlocks his door and lets himself in. I step inside, wiping my shoes on the welcome mat. We walk through a short hallway, where a few of his jackets hang from a rack. He removes his shoes, placing them next to three different pairs that are neatly lined up against the white wall. Myself and Sam do the same.