to my apartment to change into my pajamas and zone out in front of the TV.
The perfect end to a not-too-shabby day.
Him
SHE DIDN’T BRING the flowers inside.
I wasn’t surprised. I figured she’d assume they were there by mistake.
Checking my watch, I wished I could watch her longer. Based on the way my cock throbbed, it wished the same.
Maybe later.
Locking the door behind her, her shoulders slumped as she let her guard down.
Definitely later.
Chapter Five
Cliché
Alexander
CHRIST, I’M TIRED.
“This system is ancient,” José gritted out, looking more wiped than I felt. The programmer clicked some keys then muttered a low curse as the screen in front of him froze.
Spinning in my chair, I stopped to watch the loading bar fill a little, backtrack, fill a little more, backtrack all the way to the beginning, and then freeze. A circle spun and spun but nothing happened.
Yeah, that’s what it feels like. Spinning wheels.
“I’m going to throw this fuckin’ machine out the window,” José growled.
I reached under the desk and yanked the cord from the outlet.
It probably wasn’t the best thing for the computer, but neither was a four-story drop from the window.
The elevator pinged and Garrison—one of the technicians—walked out, dust coating his coveralls. “The wires in this place look like they’re older than the damn building. They might as well be made of spaghetti.”
I shook my head at the guys who were both in their early twenties—less than ten years younger than me but sometimes it felt like fifty. “Neither of you would’ve survived the dial-up days. Imagine spending twenty hours illegally downloading a song, only to have someone pick up the phone and disconnect you.”
José shuddered. “My abuela had dial-up until I paid the cable company to upgrade it and tell her it was free. She still has a corded phone. Think she’ll be buried with that thing.”
Twisting my chair back and forth, I stared as the computer fought to reboot. I was beginning to think I’d have to physically restrain José from taking the ancient machine out to a field to beat it with a bat.
“Finally,” I said through a yawn when it finally loaded.
“You okay?” Garrison asked.
Leaning my head against the back of the chair, I closed my eyes. “Late night.”
“I know you’re good at your job and all, but even you can’t do it with your eyes closed.”
“Sure I can. And with one hand tied behind my back.”
“While hopping on one foot?” José asked.
“Nah, even I’m not that good.”
“I’ll make a coffee run,” Garrison offered.
I sat up and ran a palm down my face. “I’ll do it in a minute.”
José clicked some keys and was able to access the system without it freezing. “What the… Who installs extensions on a work toolbar? No wonder it’s running like a frozen snail.”
Checking the time, I stood and started for the elevator. “Don’t start a fight with their IT guy while I’m gone.”
“I’d be surprised if that moron knew how to work his door handle,” José said to my back.
He was probably right.
Briar
For spoiled pigeons
“HOW’RE YOU DOING, Briar?”
Not now.
I mean, technically not ever would be best. But I’ll settle for not now.
I just need a break.
A break wasn’t an option, though. Not when there were observant eyes watching my every move, analyzing and dissecting. Just looking for a reason to add sessions.
Or worse.
It was my fear of worse that had me turning to talk to Derrick. “I’m good, how’re you?”
“I’m glad you’re good.” He stepped closer, and even though it wasn’t an inappropriate closeness, I still had to lock my knees to keep from backing away. “Were you visiting Aria?”
I shook my head. “Just my Tuesday one-on-one.”
If group left me drained and annoyed, my weekly solo sessions with my psychologist left me completely deflated and flayed open. Dr. Linda didn’t hesitate to dig and force me to face things I’d rather keep buried. And that session, she may as well have been geared up like an archeologist because she had dug deep.
“Got it.” I hoped that meant he understood enough to let me flee so I could emotionally regroup, but that wasn’t the case. “How’s the shelter?”
“It’s good. We’ve got a lot of animals, including pigeons, if you’re looking to adopt.”
His eyes widened. “Pigeons? For real?”
“People are crazy,” I said before I could think better of the phrasing. Most docs, therapists, and mediators didn’t allow the c word—crazy not cunt. Insane, loco, and batshit were also off the table.
Mental health slurs was what they called them.
Thankfully, Derrick let it slide. “Maybe they