way into the lock, opening the damn thing without my permission. One day, it’s just going to burst open, and there’s no way in hell I’ll be ready for it.
Desmond and I are completely silent the entire way to Monica’s, and it stays that way when I exit the car and shut the door behind me. Desmond lingers until I enter the security code to get in and walk through the hall to the elevator, but then he’s gone, and I’m terrified of the next time I’ll see him. Because for the first time since I met Desmond Blake, I’m the one who feels like the bully.
I’m already an emotional mess when I push my way into Monica’s apartment. My head hurts from my fight with Desmond. My eyes sting from the tears that I’m forcing back with everything in me. There’s no way this night can get any worse. I just need to sleep it off.
As I enter the apartment and slip off my heels, I hear what resembles a cry followed by an intensely erotic sigh. A squeak of the bed comes next, and if that isn’t enough to deter me from stepping another inch inside my temporary home, the sound of a body hitting a wall and a guttural moan sure as shit does.
“Oh my God.” My voice comes out louder than I intended, and I slam the door behind me out of habit. It definitely gets the attention of the occupants behind Monica’s bedroom door because the silence that follows feels almost deadly.
I don’t know why I can feel Monica’s wrath before she even swings open her bedroom door, but I just dumb it down to sisterly intuition. And damn, I wish I were wrong.
Unfortunately, Monica’s face is filled with fury as she stands there, hands on her curvy hips, wearing nothing but pretty black lace panties.
I raise my hands in apology. “Sorry, I had no idea you two would still be awake.”
“Are you serious? Did you not see the sign on the door?”
I look sharply at the apartment door and then rub my eyes, exhaustion taking its toll on my body. “No. What sign on the door?”
Monica huffs out a breath. “The Do Not Disturb sign?”
I scrunch my face, trying to make sense of my sister’s words. “You knew I was coming home after my shift, yet you decided to put a sign on the door to tell me to what? Sleep in the hall? No, Monica, sorry, I didn’t see your stupid sign. I’m tired.” I step forward and throw myself on the couch, desperate for this night to be over. “Sorry I interrupted. I’ll cover my ears or something.”
Monica stomps forward until she’s in front of me. “The sign just said to wait and text me when you got here. Jesus, I can’t even have one night alone with my boyfriend.”
I’m done with this conversation. “Go to his place next time. I don’t know.”
“This is my apartment!”
“Monica, it’s fine,” Zach coaxes as he comes up behind her. Then he wraps his giant arms around her petite frame.
“It’s not fine,” Monica says with an exaggerated pout. “I barely see you. I just wanted one uninterrupted night with you without having to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn to drive back to Bellevue for work.”
He cups her chin delicately, like she’s the prettiest and daintiest flower. “It’s only one night. We have the rest of our lives.”
My chest tightens as I witness their swoony love story play out in front of me, and I hate the feeling of jealousy that follows.
“I’m going to go,” he says.
“Wait.” Monica tugs him back toward her. “I’m going with you. I’ll just have to set an alarm for super early.” Before she’s even finished her thought, she’s in her room, packing an overnight bag.
I don’t know whether to be annoyed or embarrassed, so I wrap myself in a blanket on the couch and shut my eyes, pretending to be asleep when they leave.
I don’t like to cry. It’s never gotten me anywhere before, so I avoid it at all costs. But there’s no mistaking the emotion that slips between my tightly squeezed lids and drips down my cheek.
I learned what true abandonment felt like when I was just sixteen, but I always thought that feeling would eventually go away. I never thought I would carry it with me forever.
Pursuasive
Desmond
Routines keep me grounded and productive. Daily checklists are my motivation to never miss a step. In the mornings, I