crazy, southern hick who was making an
attempt at being a rock star.” My words slurred a bit, “You didn’t tell me you
were a famous star.”
He walked to me,
towering over me. The furrowed brow were there instantly, “Are you fucking dense? All those people asking me
for my signature? The fucking cop on the first day we met, asked for it.
You assumed that. What, you can’t fucking Google shit?
I thought it was hilarious you didn’t know who I was. In fact, I liked it. You
treated me like shit and yelled at me, like people used to do.”
I flinched and looked
at the door, “You probably should go back to the bar, before the crowd gets
mad.”
His blue/black eyes
bore down on me, “We closed after that song. We only played one set.”
I felt the sobering
feeling of the heat of him standing over my mostly-naked body. He ran a finger
down my jawline, “Princess, you scared me for real. No games when it comes to
that, okay? I can’t handle you not being safe.”
I shook my head, “I… I
didn’t mean to. I really thought he was following me.”
His gaze narrowed,
“You have to tell me what the deal is with you. Mace,
paranoia, sketchy about leaving the apartment except in the morning, and only
for running with your mace. What’s up?”
I stepped back, “It’s
nothing.” My back pressed against the wall by the bathroom door. He stepped
closer, putting his arms on either side of me, “It’s safe to tell me.”
I swallowed the vomit
slithering up my throat, as a shudder took control of my body.
He laughed bitterly,
“You’re hanging on by a thread, aren’t you? You’re gong to barf any second? You
drank too much didn’t you?”
I nodded.
He reached for the
bathroom door and opened it, “Go get sick. We can talk tomorrow.”
I nodded again and
slipped into the bathroom.
I knelt at the toilet,
realizing he’d ran as fast as he could to come and make sure I was safe.
The thought lasted
seconds, before the wine came back with vengeance.
Chapter Five
The New Deal, AKA playing house
I woke with a start
and a gasp. My head spun. I moaned, wincing at the bad feelings covering me. I
was on my bed. I didn’t remember much. I was still in my lacy Brazilian-butt
underwear and push-up bra. I pulled it off and pulled on a tee shirt and some
sweats. It was cool in the room. There was a note, a glass, and a small carton
of something on my bedside table.
‘Princess,
Drink this and take these pills and come wake me up.
Hurry up.
L’
I shuddered, looking
at the carton. It was coconut water. I popped the pills in my mouth and poured
the murky-looking liquid into the glass and drank it back. It wasn’t so bad.
Not as coconut flavored as I imagined it would be.
I left the room to see
him passed out, in his clothes still, on the couch.
I tiptoed to the
kitchen. Flashbacks of me in my underwear were trying to get through the
barrier in my brain. I pushed them away.
I poured a glass of
water.
“Morning.”
I looked back at him,
“Hey.”
He grinned, “How are
you?”
I
shook my head , “Stop shouting.”
He nodded, “I
suspected.” He came and grabbed my hand, pulling me to the front door. He
grabbed my flip-flops from the organized shelf next to the door and continued
to walk.
“I don’t want to go.
Where are we going?”
He scooped me up into
his arms, “Somewhere necessary.”
He carried me down the
stairs like I weighed nothing. “Put me down.”
He shook his head,
“No, your drunk ass is gonna go too slow and I’m starving.”
I panicked a little,
mostly because I had no energy, “Loch, I can’t leave the house like this.”
He grinned, “I like it
when you accidentally call me Loch.” He always ignored the things he didn’t
want to hear.
When we got to the
car, he opened the door and placed me inside. I sat inside and got my bearings.
He climbed in, grinning, “You don’t drink, do you?” He passed me my shoes. I
slipped them on, trying not to heave.
My
attempt at being a rock star.” My words slurred a bit, “You didn’t tell me you
were a famous star.”
He walked to me,
towering over me. The furrowed brow were there instantly, “Are you fucking dense? All those people asking me
for my signature? The fucking cop on the first day we met, asked for it.
You assumed that. What, you can’t fucking Google shit?
I thought it was hilarious you didn’t know who I was. In fact, I liked it. You
treated me like shit and yelled at me, like people used to do.”
I flinched and looked
at the door, “You probably should go back to the bar, before the crowd gets
mad.”
His blue/black eyes
bore down on me, “We closed after that song. We only played one set.”
I felt the sobering
feeling of the heat of him standing over my mostly-naked body. He ran a finger
down my jawline, “Princess, you scared me for real. No games when it comes to
that, okay? I can’t handle you not being safe.”
I shook my head, “I… I
didn’t mean to. I really thought he was following me.”
His gaze narrowed,
“You have to tell me what the deal is with you. Mace,
paranoia, sketchy about leaving the apartment except in the morning, and only
for running with your mace. What’s up?”
I stepped back, “It’s
nothing.” My back pressed against the wall by the bathroom door. He stepped
closer, putting his arms on either side of me, “It’s safe to tell me.”
I swallowed the vomit
slithering up my throat, as a shudder took control of my body.
He laughed bitterly,
“You’re hanging on by a thread, aren’t you? You’re gong to barf any second? You
drank too much didn’t you?”
I nodded.
He reached for the
bathroom door and opened it, “Go get sick. We can talk tomorrow.”
I nodded again and
slipped into the bathroom.
I knelt at the toilet,
realizing he’d ran as fast as he could to come and make sure I was safe.
The thought lasted
seconds, before the wine came back with vengeance.
Chapter Five
The New Deal, AKA playing house
I woke with a start
and a gasp. My head spun. I moaned, wincing at the bad feelings covering me. I
was on my bed. I didn’t remember much. I was still in my lacy Brazilian-butt
underwear and push-up bra. I pulled it off and pulled on a tee shirt and some
sweats. It was cool in the room. There was a note, a glass, and a small carton
of something on my bedside table.
‘Princess,
Drink this and take these pills and come wake me up.
Hurry up.
L’
I shuddered, looking
at the carton. It was coconut water. I popped the pills in my mouth and poured
the murky-looking liquid into the glass and drank it back. It wasn’t so bad.
Not as coconut flavored as I imagined it would be.
I left the room to see
him passed out, in his clothes still, on the couch.
I tiptoed to the
kitchen. Flashbacks of me in my underwear were trying to get through the
barrier in my brain. I pushed them away.
I poured a glass of
water.
“Morning.”
I looked back at him,
“Hey.”
He grinned, “How are
you?”
I
shook my head , “Stop shouting.”
He nodded, “I
suspected.” He came and grabbed my hand, pulling me to the front door. He
grabbed my flip-flops from the organized shelf next to the door and continued
to walk.
“I don’t want to go.
Where are we going?”
He scooped me up into
his arms, “Somewhere necessary.”
He carried me down the
stairs like I weighed nothing. “Put me down.”
He shook his head,
“No, your drunk ass is gonna go too slow and I’m starving.”
I panicked a little,
mostly because I had no energy, “Loch, I can’t leave the house like this.”
He grinned, “I like it
when you accidentally call me Loch.” He always ignored the things he didn’t
want to hear.
When we got to the
car, he opened the door and placed me inside. I sat inside and got my bearings.
He climbed in, grinning, “You don’t drink, do you?” He passed me my shoes. I
slipped them on, trying not to heave.
My
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