My heart aches for Red to be here too, but when she’s not being put through the wringer with schoolwork, she’s at her new job. But I know she and Brexley have promised to come over and help me out with the house soon. Telling her can wait.
Tense energy vibrates through me, yearning for some kind of release or outlet. Cinder rubs her hands--covered by fingerless gloves--up and down my arms to calm me, and admittedly it helps a fraction.
I’m already dressed for work in a black leather dress and black boots to match my smoky makeup and jewelry. My dress is short enough to show off half the garter tattoo on my upper right thigh. Cinder has three times the tattoos I have, but I love when the lines of my clothing accentuate the floral tattoos on various parts of my body and the Libra scales on my inner forearm.
Cinder’s hair is up in a high bun, offset by the sharp cut of her thick curtain of bangs. Her top is an edgy mishmash of chains and fishnet, and she wears baggy cargo pants that droop low.
“Did you decide to call the police?” she asks.
“And tell them what? I woke up in a stranger’s bed in my neighbor’s house and then my neighbor thought I broke in to see his house because he views a couple friendly gestures as me stalking him? They’d arrest me before I even finished explaining.”
My neighbor’s reaction had completely thrown me for a loop when he offered me breakfast before practically fleeing his own home to get away from me. Granted, the insanely delicious smelling food made my stomach rumble with desperate hunger pains. But there was no way I was sticking around.
If not for that, I absolutely would have called the cops. But the whole thing was wrong, and I couldn’t make sense of it. When I thought I caught a flash of hurt in Ted’s eyes, I knew I really had lost my grounding.
Cinder rubs my arms more vigorously. “We can’t just let this go. You are sure nothing happened to you?”
I nod. “Pajamas and panties intact. I just don’t understand why that mystery guy would come into my house, drug me and carry me over to his bedroom. That’s the best explanation I have, but it also doesn’t make any sense. The only other explanation is. . . ” I stumble on the words, not wanting to say it out loud.
The arm rubbing stops. “What?” Cinder prods.
“Maybe subconsciously I wanted to see inside my neighbor’s house so much that I sleep-walked over there and broke in.” I wanted more than to see inside the house. I wanted to burrow deeper under Ted’s skin. Now my subconscious took control and worked to fulfill those whims.
I should want to run for the hills to get away from him. Instead, he made a truce I immediately hated. I had more nefarious plans in mind for my thundercloud of a neighbor. Maybe donate to a charity in his name, buy him a puppy, or get an article written into one of his absurd newspapers about how wonderful he is (who the hell reads an actual newspaper anymore anyway?). All until he realizes he is a monster, and I am the sweetest girl there ever was.
Cinder’s brows knit together, skin tightening around her mouth. “We lived together for four years, Golds. I’ve never known you to sleepwalk.”
“I know, I know.” I rub my hands over my face while staying careful not to mess up my makeup. “But maybe the stress of this whole situation is getting to me.”
It’s true. Swearing off love, taking on an insane amount of debt, worrying I’ll turn into my flaky aunt, and dealing with a gruff unfriendly neighbor has built up to a pressure I fear I’ll crack under. Or rather the pressure the male patrons are putting on me has my bones groaning from the weight. Not to mention the way women have been looking at me. The whispers have been getting louder, less careful.
Slut.
Whore.
Who does she think she is?
She’s too fat to be that pretty.
I do my best to retreat into my mantras to protect myself from the onslaught, but the comments I hear are so much worse than I want to admit. Men have started to flirt with me in front of their significant others. It’s not something I condone, or even want, yet I’m the ‘whore.’
Bile coats my throat and my stomach churns as invisible clamps squeeze on either side of my temples.
If sleepwalking is a side effect, I would be grateful that’s all I suffer.
The breaking and entering thing I’m not such a fan of. Waking up in bed with strange men and no recollection of how I got there. That could be a problem.
As if sensing I’m awash in anxiety, Cinder pulls me in for a full body hug now. I sigh and lean into her slight but strong frame. Before me, Cinder didn’t like anyone touching her for any amount of time. It has a lot to do with her upbringing and the step-family from hell. But I admittedly pushed past her barriers. I never take for granted that I’m now one of the few people Cinder is comfortable enough to be touched by. My hold on her tightens as something in my chest swells, making tears prickle at the back of my eyes.
I blink them away before they even form.
“Hey guys, do you know where—” Snow’s words die off when she pops her head into the locker room and sees us embracing. “Oh, sorry. I’ll ask later.” Her shirt is cut up to reveal a blue glitter covered shoulder and her skirt is short. Cinder must have lent her some fishnet and combat boots because I instantly recognize them.
“It’s okay,” I assure Snow, breaking away from Cinder. “We’re coming. Thanks for prepping the bar to open.”
Snow nods. “I can try to cover for longer if you guys need more time.”
I shake my head, though my voice is thick with emotion. “No, no, I’m good. Thank you, though.”
