After we left, I checked my surroundings. No sign of Grant. I clutched my phone, knowing that he told me to call him, but I wanted another half an hour where I could forget about my life. Where I could pretend that I didn’t have a bodyguard tracking me. I wanted a beer and some conversation with someone who didn’t truly know me.
***
The Raving Rat was across the street from LVU’s campus. A small stage sat to one side of the room, presumably for local bands and open mic nights, and a large bar was on the other side. Christine’s gothic black hair was unmistakable. I took a stool next to her. The bartender handed back her tab, and she quickly stuffed her ID and credit card back in her wallet.
“You go to school here?” she asked.
When she looked up, her eyes were turquoise, like mine. But that strange part near her pupils that didn’t quite mesh, made the lenses obvious. How many different color contacts did she have?
I shrugged. “Something like that.” I ordered what she was drinking, then added, “Grant’s making me.”
And right on cue, my phone buzzed. A message from Grant:Where the hell are you?Give me a damn break. Didn’t he have my location mapped out already? I locked the screen and turned back to Christine.
“So what’s the deal with you two anyway?” she asked.
“He’s my sister’s friend,” I said. I didn’t need to get into the details. Not right now. But then the war raged inside of me. Wasn’t I supposed to be honest? So that if a potential friend wanted to run away, they could run awaynow, instead of breaking me in two later on?
“Sister’s friend, roommate, and babysitter,” Christine said.
“He’s supposed to take care of me, but he actually helped abduct me at one point.”
Christine spat her beer back into the glass. “Did you say abduction?” Her eyes were wide. I nodded. The truth didn’t feel great, but at least it was out. We could get it all out on the table and settle it, once and for all. “Well, I’d never trust that fucker with my life. You can’t trust someone who abducts you, you know? You don’t know what he’s capable of. Not really.”
Again, my phone buzzed. I checked it:I will check your location. But I don’t have to. Just answer me.Then another message.WHERE ARE YOU?
All caps. He was serious. A looming figure walked towards us, and I locked the screen again. A tall pale man with slicked black hair leered at me. He was missing the cane and the top hat, but there was no mistaking him. It was Oliver.
“Ah. So you’ve befriended the cunt officially,” he said. Christine scowled, looking like she was ready to pounce him.
“Listen,” I said. “I’m not—”
“Don’t you dare harass her,” Christine said, cutting me off. She stood and put a hand on Oliver’s chest. “She’s been through enough already.” Her fingertips dragged along him in a calculated way, almost like she was trying to tease him. “We’ve talked about this. This isnothow you get a date. You’re not attracting anyone acting this way.”
“That bitch deserves—”
“It doesn’t matter what she deserves,” Christine said. She pinched Oliver’s cheek, belittling him, even as he towered over her. “Don’t do this here. Trust me. You don’t want that kind of mess.”
He scowled, practically growling at us, and walked away. She rolled her eyes. “Sorry about that oaf,” she said. “I agreed to do a scene with him after you left the Afterglow. He’s obsessed with me now. Keeps following me around.” She shook her head. “The man needs an attitude adjustment.”
I raised a brow. Following her? Was he stalking both of us? At least he seemed to listen to Christine.
“You scened with him?” I asked.
“I did.”
“I didn’t take you for a sub.”
She laughed. “I’m not. He switched for me.” She grinned. “But let’s talk about you. Tell me everything. What are you? Bottom? Top? Switch? Hedonist? Pain slut?”
She listed a few more, but ‘pain slut’ is the term that instantly stuck out to me. It wasn’t simply the feeling of pain that I enjoyed; it was everything that came with it. When it came to pain, those feelings of abandonment, guilt, and loneliness, everything like that was buried so far down beneath the pain that I was reduced to primal reactions. I couldn’t think anymore. I didn’t have to feel guilty. I could forget Dean’s white eyes, or the fact that my parents had left us shortly after I was born. I could just be. Exist. Accept. Powerless against whatever came towards me.
That’s how it had felt to fight Grant during training. Knowing that he controlled me with every move.
“One of those,” I said. Then I shook my head. I was supposed to tell the truth.. “Masochist,” I corrected. “Definitely a masochist.”
“And are you seeing anyone?”
Was Christine bisexual? It seemed weird that she was asking so many questions. “Not lately,” I said.
