“What?” I asked, confused.
“If I can molest you at all hours of the night at my will, you should be able to return the favor.” He smirked as he placed his key in my open palm.
The next day, I yawned and rotated my shoulders, attempting to relieve some of the ache. I should have known not to tease Nathan; he’d made sure to prolong his own release to torment me.
The day was over and as soon as I entered my condo, I stripped out of my suit and into a sun dress with a shrug. It was a nice spring day, the temperature reaching into the mid-sixties, and I was excited for the coming warmth of summer. I located a pair of strappy sandals hiding in a corner of my closet before heading out the door and up to Nathan’s to pick him up.
I told myself it was to pick him up, as if it was a date, something planned, but once again it was an unspoken thing we did together. I opened the door with my key and walked in.
It had been a difficult trade off, but in the end was a great idea. I felt safer not leaving my door unlocked, as did Nathan, and it came in handy when once, after a night of drinking, I realized I didn’t have my keys with me.
I walked in and called out, my voice echoing on the empty walls and near vacant rooms. I sighed. Again, another reminder. He didn’t care about furniture or decorations; his condo held the bare minimum. The only things on the walls were holes; he was up to seventeen, one more since yesterday. I told him he needed to get a punching bag; it was cheaper than drywall replacement.
I found him out on the terrace sitting on one of the lounge chairs, a cigarette between his lips. His leg was bouncing at near sonic speed, his fingers pulling at his hair. He screamed of nervous agitation, and I cried inside knowing the cause.
I walked forward and sat down next to him. “I didn’t know you smoked.”
His head tilted to me in acknowledgement as he took a long drag.
“Sometimes,” he admitted as he released the smoke from his lungs.
“It bothers you that much…my feelings?” Brutal honesty wasn’t our thing, but I wanted him to tell me.
“Yes,” he responded after a moment. “I don’t want you to feel that way.”
I nodded in understanding. I hated it, but I had hoped he would open up to me.
After taking a deep breath, I sat down next to him and grabbed his arm. My thumb massaged the surgical scar on the inside of his wrist as I pulled his hand to me, and took a drag of his cigarette. It burned, but sparked an old craving. He was watching me in intense fascination.
“What?”
“I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
I was stunned at his declaration; it had a possessive edge about it.
“And?” I pressed.
His face twisted for a moment before a cocky smile presented itself. His hand moved between my thighs and grabbed my *, his fingers pushing the thin cotton of my panties against my opening.
“For me only,” he snarled.
I shook my head and huffed. “You are such a fucking contradiction.”
“What?”
“I wish I knew what was going on in that head of yours sometimes.”
He shook his head as he leaned down to put the cigarette out on the concrete. “No, you don’t. It’s dark in here.” He tapped on his skull.
With that, he stood. After offering me a hand up, we headed out to Nipps for our Friday relaxation.
Two hours later, we were laughing about who knows what, snacking on bar food and I was two beers in. I snagged the cigarette from between his fingers and took another puff.
“Delilah Anne Palmer!” I heard my name yelled out from somewhere in the bar. I turned to find Andrew staring at me as he stomped over. “Smoking? You worked so hard to quit, and now you’re at it again?”
I sighed, my body sagging. “It was just a drag, Andrew.”
“A gateway drag.”
I glared up at him. “What are you doing here?”
He pulled the bar stool out from beside me and sat down.