Noxious (Anathema #1) - Yolanda Olson Page 0,3

doesn’t eat; he just doesn’t know how to fucking cook, so I do that for him too.

Come to think of it, I think the only thing I don’t do for him is wipe his goddamn ass.

Which reminds me.

“Hey, Dex?” I begin as I hop up onto the counter next to the stove. “I’m going out of town tomorrow night. Fuck knows how long I’ll be gone, but before you leave, take the spare key, okay? It’s in that tin jar on top of the fridge,” I say, gesturing with my chin. “I gotta go get some sleep to get ready for the drive. I just want you to know that you can come and go as you please while I’m gone.”

He clears his throat but doesn’t say anything. He keeps his eyes trained on the microwave instead, his hands gripping the edge of the counter next to my legs, turning whiter than I’ve ever seen them and I sigh.

Hopping down, I lean over and give my friend a gentle kiss on the cheek, ruffle his hair for good measure, then call out a sound good night as I make my way back to my room.

As I lay down in my bed and pull my sheets up to my chin, I stare at the ceiling for a moment.

Something tells me that this is the last favor I’ll ever do for Aftyn Meyer.

Three

The Lateness of the Hour

Dexter

Infomercials have always been my favorite thing to watch. I don’t know why, but I’m assuming it’s because of the overly cheerful way these people present their products.

Maybe they know that if anyone is watching at this hour it’s because they can’t sleep and shouting at them might help.

I clear my throat as I stare at the screen. Who the hell needs some kind of super scrub spray for their bathroom tiles? This guy seems really excited about it though, and the way he wipes the mold off after one spray and turns to look at the camera makes me chuckle quietly.

I look down at my small plate and use the fork to break off another piece of the pot roast, then pop it into my mouth.

Reheated leftovers never taste as good as the day before, but at least it’s something. And honestly, there’s only so much I can tighten my belt before I pass out from the hunger.

To say I can’t afford to live in this neighborhood would be an understatement, but Willa has been the only person in my life that’s ever been good to me and being close to her has always made me feel better about shit.

I met her the last year of high school.

We didn’t go to the same one, since she’s a year older than me. We were standing in line at the local Mom and Pop grocery shop and I was ten dollars short on the food I was trying to buy.

She reached over and swiped her credit card to make up the balance, then smiled at me and told me to have a nice day.

Her sleepy blue eyes got my attention first and foremost. They seemed full of secrets and dangerous things, but her million-watt smile froze me in place. Her long blonde hair has always looked like woven gold and I guess it reminds me of the girl that was locked in a tower by Rumpelstiltskin that spun straw into gold.

It made me wonder if there was any evil guarding the grounds of the proverbial castle, and that was confirmed the day I met Aftyn Meyer.

His mouth is my favorite thing about him. Not for the rude and crude things that come from them when they part after a wicked smile, but because of how full they are.

My body shivers involuntary at the thought of him. He’s never been nice to me, but he doesn’t treat me like I don’t belong either.

I think he likes having me around, especially when he’s in a bad mood, because it gives him someone to unload his frustrations on.

The odd thing about this entire friendship, or lack thereof with those two, is that I’m not sure which of the two is the most beautiful and ergo, can’t decide who I’d rather end up in bed with.

It’s strange to me since I’ve never been attracted to a man before, but who the fuck could honestly look at Aftyn and not want to touch him? Even just a little bit?

Suddenly the day-old pot roast that I’ve been enjoying in the television-illuminated living room