Clarity - Nicole Dykes Page 0,2
in my throat, thinking about our last interaction. Then I turn to look at the man, snoring and fast asleep next to me.
Red hair. I don’t remember that.
Whatever.
As slowly as I can, I slip off the bed and start to look around the room—which smells like gym socks and pizza—for my clothes. No more college bars.
I’m twenty-three. I need to be looking for older men, but I refuse to fully embrace my daddy issues.
I find my skirt, and quickly slip it on, searching for my top. I finally find it on top of the dresser, but it catches on a baseball bobble head which crashes to the ground, waking the stranger who sits upright, looking at me groggily. “Are you leaving?”
I pull the tank over my bare breasts and nod. “Yeah. I need to get to work.”
He runs his fingers through his hair, his arm muscles flexing as he does. Not bad. Not great.
Not nearly as sculpted and hard as the arms I want to hold me.
“Don’t you work for your father?”
“Yes.” I remember telling him that over drinks at the bar last night before we came back here for lame, at the very best mediocre, sex.
“So, can’t you tell him you’re going to be late?” He looks down at his lap, and I see the tent he’s making in the sheet. “I could definitely go for another round after seeing your tits in the sunlight.”
I nearly gag, hating that this fucker has seen me naked and touched my body. But no regrets. I can’t start allowing that. I don’t want any part of round two and would love to just get the fuck out of here, which is exactly what I'm going to do.
“I could, but not for a skinny, little five-inch dick.”
I reach for the door and pull it open. I hear him mumble, “Bitch,” but I don’t care. I'm already out of his room and out the front door.
Besides, I've been called worse.
I look around. Shit. Of course, my car is still at the bar. I reach into my pocket for my cellphone. Normally I would just call my best friend, Melody, but I'm sure she’s busy packing, considering she’s moving to New York with Sean tomorrow.
I quickly order an Uber and sit on the curb to wait. Looking down at my phone, I see a message from Mel about the party tomorrow, making sure I'll be there.
I wouldn’t miss it for the world even though the thought makes my stomach twist into knots.
I know it’s a big party, but that’s not what bothers me.
Rhys will be there to send Sean off.
And it’s a party, just like the one tomorrow, where it all began.
Where we began, even if neither of us knew it.
Two years ago
That party was boring as fuck. Growing up at country club parties, it just doesn’t thrill me. Not to mention watching my best friend lust after a total prick who’s going to hurt her.
When I first went to Rhys earlier tonight at the Christmas Eve party, my only intention was to find Sean and threaten him for hitting on Melody and messing with her head.
But there was something about this boy, who’s definitely all man, something different. Dirty. Sexy. Angry.
He’s definitely a change from the men I've been fucking since Logan tossed me aside.
I thought Logan might be different. He was raised in foster care on the other side of the tracks, so to speak, but he was in love with a girl from his past.
Oh well, Rhys seems like he can occupy my time just fine for the night. I toss my keys on the foyer table as Rhys stalks in behind me, closing the door.
Perhaps I should be a little afraid of him—I mean, the man is massive—but I'm not. I have zero fear as I turn around to face him, ready to fuck him. I approach quickly, placing my hands on his shoulders ready to kiss him, but he flinches.
And I don’t mean slightly. I mean full-on flinches like I burned him with my hands. He steps back out of my grasp and stares at me, horror in his eyes.
“What’s the matter?” I stare at the beautiful man dressed in a tux that clings to him but still seems completely wrong. His thick brown hair is gelled. His cheekbones are high, cut, and sharp like glass. His eyes burn with hatred in them, an all-consuming hate, and I'm not sure where it’s directed. His lips are bright red and full.