be my fake wife, Dani. Nobody else will do. It has to be you.”
Welp, that’s an instant mood killer.
I step away from him, unknotting the tie from my wrists. I shake my head as I pull up my jeans. “Why did you have to say that?” I sigh. “Why did you have to ruin it?”
He considers me with baleful eyes. “You are the one to do it.”
I roll my eyes. “See, here’s the thing. We were just having a great time but now you’ve gone and reminded me that you threatened my little brother the last time you brought this up. So, you know, I think I’ll be going now.”
I march toward the door. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little annoyed that he doesn’t try to stop me. He just watches me go, this smirk on his face, hands tucked in his pockets.
As I go, I tell myself I don’t give a fuck about him, anyway.
Knowing that every word of that is a lie.
15
Dani
The next day, I wake up and the first thing I think about is Angelo, which really ticks me off. As I get ready for my shift, I tell myself that I’m done with him for the day.
And yet, as I drive my Beetle to work, I keep thinking I see his face in the faces of strangers: standing outside a café, sitting in the car next to me, doing pull-ups in the front window of the gym. It doesn’t help that as I shift against the seat, I can feel the evidence of last night, the bruises. I bite my lip and bury those thoughts somewhere else.
Then I catch a look at myself in the mirror, with hardly any makeup on, my ponytail pulled tight in badass work mode, and I let it go.
EMT Dani does not bite her lip and moan and pine over some pretty boy asshole. EMT Dani doesn’t even have to think about that presumptuous handsome arrogant dickhead.
After stashing some stuff in the locker, I walk out to Betty to find Ricky leaning against it with a box of doughnuts in his hands. He holds them up like a peace offering. “Truce, Dani?” he says. “I don’t know if I’ve got it in me for another awkward shift.”
I look at him for a few long moments. Ricky is a douchebag and a jackass, but he’s my partner and we’re friends, or at least something like friends. Plus, he’s right. It has been awkward since I’ve been giving him the cold shoulder.
“Truce,” I sigh, taking a doughnut. “But if you ever put me in that position again, I’ll turn you into a doughnut.”
He narrows his eyes, half smiling. “What does that even mean?”
I laugh tiredly. “That it’s too early to think of a decent threat. Come on. Let’s get to it.”
Ricky’s driving, so when my phone vibrates in my pocket, I can pull it out and take a look. It’s Angelo. He’s sent me a photograph of the tie he used on my wrists last night, no words. I text him: Ooh, you’re mysterious. I’m kinda busy, playboy xoxo.
Angelo: Saving lives?
Me: Yeah, something like that. I haven’t forgiven you, BTW.
Angelo: That makes two of us, I haven’t forgiven you, either.
I laugh despite myself. For what?
For making it impossible to work this morning, he texts. All I can think about is how wet and perfect your pussy looked when you were bent over for me. I need to see you.
I glance at Ricky, but he’s not even looking. He’s head-banging to some metal song. I’m at work, I text. Don’t do this to me.
He texts: Give me something to keep me sane, then.
A rush of excitement moves through me. Yeah, but can I trust you?
Yes, he texts. Just that one word. And, absurdly, I believe him.
Be patient, then. I’m busy.
“Boyfriend?” Ricky asks casually as I set my phone to silent and put it away.
“What?” I say, trying to laugh it off. “You know I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Shit, Dani, with the way you were smiling then, a simpler man might say you look smitten.”
I flip him the bird.
“Smitten as a kitten,” he laughs, and then we get a call.
The laughter stops right away when we hear what it is: another overdose.
We get there and discover it’s another upper-class kid, rolling around on his kitchen floor with expensive silverware scattered everywhere from where he fell against the drawer.
He’ll be okay, but then there’s another one just like it, and another, and