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That should probably make me feel nervous, but it doesn’t.
I feel . . . safe.
And safe is a new feeling for me since I moved here. So I nod, Marco closes my door, and I head home.
And when I get home, I send Marco my location, letting him know I got home okay.
Twenty
-Lilah-
The next day is just as simple, walking in at two, changing in the quiet, empty break room, and sitting in the corner of one of the poker rooms. Today, it’s Roddy walking me out to grab drinks and hovering in the corners, but when I leave, I’m practically skipping. My feet don’t kill, I’m not dying of exhaustion, I have a stack of cash I don’t have to carefully budget, and I’m out at anormal human being time.
I could cry with excitement, with the ease of the day.
And because I have an unexpected extra bit of money, I decide to splurge. I drive myself to the fancy grocery store across town, not caring that I’m in a light-purple sweatpants and sweatshirt set, and start filling a cart with luxuries I haven’t had since I changed everything in my life.
Before everything happened, I went to this grocery store almost every night after work, grabbing premade sushi or an expensive salad from the salad bar, not caring what the total was because I knew I was good for it. I lived in a killer high-rise apartment, spending my days overlooking Jersey City while I sent out press releases and chatted with high-end clients. Back then, a $100 bottle of wine on a Tuesday night wasn’t extravagant.
But since I started my plan, I’ve been living in a tiny little apartment, eating ramen and peanut butter and jellies and not evenlookingat the liquor section of a normal store, much less this one.
Today feels like a win after weeks of losses, and once again, it’s another heady reminder of what my sister sacrificed for years while I went off and lived my best life.
The guilt makes me lose my appetite, but I still add a pack of sushi to my cart, strolling toward the snacks to stock up on all the things I’ve missed.
But as I’m pushing my cart, lost in thought, I’m jarred and once again, my world spins as I crash into a man.
“Oh my god! I’m so sorry. I was totally—" I stop my over-the-top apology because I just so happen to know the man my cart slammed into.
He slammed into me not too long ago.
“Dante?” I ask, and when he turns to face me, that sly smile on his lips, I decide then and there that the ability to dematerialize at will would be amazing.
This is my luck. Literally crashing into the man whose bed I snuck out of after letting him fuck my virginity into oblivion, thinking I’d never see him again.
I also just got off work, which means both times this man has seen me outside the club, I’ve probably smelled of smoke and sweat and had body glitter on my tits.
“What a lovely surprise,” he says, that smile stretching. “I was hoping I’d see you around after last time.”
“Uh, hi. How are you?” Because that’s how you interact with hot older strangers who fucked you hoarse two days ago, right?Right?
What the fuck do I know about this kind of thing?
But then he laughs.
The manlaughs.
Oh god. Swallow me up, ground. Please. I would like to disappear now.
“Much better now,” he says, and then my world stops spinning. He walks around my cart, setting his empty handbasket into it, then completely engulfs my personal space. I step back, bumping into the shelf of chips and pretzels, but I don’t have time to think about how I’m crunching up someone else’s snacks because his hands are on either side of my face, his body pressing into mine, and he’s bringing his face down to meet my lips.
And just like that first time, the sound stops.
The universe goes quiet.
All there is are his warm, chafed hands on my jaw, tipping it up until I’m right where he wants me, my heart pounding out of my chest, and the way his lips gently press to my own.
It’s like I’m home.
