Page 39 of A New Days Don

The praise, just like after our kiss, makes all the heat and ache feel worth it. My own, shy smile pulls at my lips, and he laps it up like a man obsessed.

“Finish your meal. I will take you home after.” He nods to the plate in front of me, speaking as if he didn’t just send my body into a tailspin of emotion and control how wound he got me.

I don’t hate how easily his dominant nature takes the stress of the real world from me. It feels almost natural and gives me a break from the loud, scrambling thoughts. The thoughts that keep me working until the late hours of the evening and wake me up screaming from nightmares I can’t control.

Too exhausted to unpack everything that he has opened inside of me, I pick my sandwich up and take another bite. Massimo’s eyes flare with emotions I can’t pinpoint, then he follows suit, picking up his sandwich, and we eat together in silence.

Karmin bounds into the café, a wide grin on her face as she makes her way to our usual table. I meet her for a hug, her warm embrace calming my racing mind.

I haven’t seen Massimo in four days, since the night he brought me back to his place and kissed me. The day someone set fire to my world. The last I heard from him, he left a note with my gear on my cubicle desk. I would feel more upset that he hasn’t spoken to me since that day if I didn’t feel his presence lurking around every corner—in the station, at Fergusen’s, at night when my mind won’t let me sleep, and even right now as I hold Karmin close.

My eyes dart across the café, searching for a glimpse of the man who has haunted my every thought, even when I’m working. But he isn’t here, not that it matters, my body seems to feel his presence despite the visual confirmation that there is no six-foot something man lurking.

“You’re here early,” Karmin comments as we approach the counter to order our usual.

I raise one of my shoulders, shrugging before changing the topic from my poor time management and sleep problems, “How are things?”

“Oh! You’ll never believe who I met the other day.” Karmin begins, a wild grin pulling on her face, and I know I’m about to get all the juicy details.

“Two breakfast sandwiches, an oat milk latte, and a macchiato?” The barista behind the bar offers as we approach her, already knowing our orders off by heart.

“Let’s add a raspberry mousse cake to share,” Karmin says while holding up her finger.

“Ahh, so the news is really juicy,” I muse, and she chuckles, elbowing me as she looks for her wallet in her obnoxiously large purse. In the meantime, I pull my phone out of my pocket and tap the machine before she has a chance.

At the sound of the beep, indicating the payment went through, Karmin looks up from her purse, “Hey, wait! It was my turn to pay.”

“Get it next time,” I tell her quickly then thank the barista for the cake. “You have news to spill, and I’m not standing here waiting for the next ten hours for you to find your debit card in your overstuffed bag.”

Karmin pouts but follows me back to our table. Paying for brunch isn’t as painful as it used to be when we were both starving college students, or worse, starving interns. We both have well paying jobs. Karmin is the lead artist at Glindale Arts, and I am now making a proper, livable salary. It’s not enough to buy my own place yet, but it is more than enough to be able to splurge weekly on brunch and extracurriculars.

“So, spill it,” I lean back in the booth, smirking at my best friend, who begins her extravagant tale of woe and promiscuity.

“Remember how a few weeks ago my nude painting class was hijacked by some asshole? Bought all the seats in the class, and I told him we would refund him his cash, because what the fuck, creepy. Anyway, I hadn’t seen him since I thought he got the memo to be creepy somewhere else, well, the bastard bought out all the seats to my nude painting next week.” Karmin exclaims, her tone exasperated and annoyed. Before I can question her about what this has to do with her giddiness, she continues, “I had to cancel yet another event, and when I posted about it online, explaining the situation the best I could without explicitly telling everyone I had some kind of creep trying to get me alone naked, a major company reached out to me. They’re a private entity and typically work with niche works and collectables, but one of their clients wants a personal meeting with me to work on a piece for their mantle. They were quoting me six figures, Miles.”

My mouth opens and then I shut it as I contemplate the information she’s given me. I remember her telling me about the weirdo that showed up. She gave me a brief description but couldn’t quite explain him in detail because he stuck to the shadows and the skylights, which used to give the room natural lighting for better painting, were blinding her. I looked into it, but the database came back with over ten thousand matches in this area alone.

The last thing she wants to hear from me is my warnings. “You sure you can trust this? What if it's him?”

“I thought about that, but I don’t think it is. This was an official business—I looked into them and everything. I think it’s an honest client.” Karmin explains as our drinks are placed on the table between us. We both thanked the barista, sipping on the far too hot drinks. “Besides, it’s only a call. If the vibe feels off, I will just cancel it.”

“You’ll tell me the moment something feels off, right?” I ask while cupping the artistically decorated pink mug.

“Of course,” she nods, “What about you? What have you been up to?”

Does she know?

My cheeks flush and Karmin’s eyes widen, her jaw falling slack, “Oh my God.”

“What?” I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral as I pick up the small silver spoon and idly stir my macchiato.

“Don’t what me,” Karmin smirks, her eyes glinting with pure, unadulterated bewilderment, “You are getting laid!”

She gasps before dropping her voice so only I can hear, “Did you give someone your V-card?! Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“Because… I have no V-card to give, and you know why.” The small reminder of the loss, the one thing I wanted for myself, taken from me, burns my eyes, but I don’t pity myself and will not cry over it. I spent three years mourning the loss of a memory I would never have.

Karmin doesn’t let me continue on, the excitement on her face falling. Her brows furrow and she shakes her head, “I don’t care what the fuck that motherfucker thought he could take from you. He did nothing but assault you. Your virginity can’t be taken. Yes, you were violated, and I am so fucking sorry, Miles.” Karmin’s voice cracks, but she continues before I can reassure her.