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I had been having a good—okay, tentatively pleasant—time with my friends. Now, though, I would like to disappear.
Wishing for telepathic powers, I stare at Herc’s back. Turn around and get me out of here, I say silently.
Please.
EIGHT
Herc
At first, I ignore the sixth sense. The hairs standing up on the back of my neck.
I don’t believe in telepathy, but there’s something to the notion that one can feel it when they’re being watched.
Meghan is eyeballing me, and I feel it.
I haven’t sensed this in months. A year, to be exact. Not since the night everything fell apart. The night I saw blood, I panicked and ran.
“Herc, an ambulance? Really? For what amounts to a paper cut on my fat ass?!”
I can see with my own eyes that Meghan is fine. She’s not pissed about the accident; she’s hurt that I left and called paramedics. I should have stayed, yes. But my feet just ran before my brain caught up.
At least I had the frame of mind to call for help.
What if she’d needed stitches?
What if the wound was infected because I don’t know what I’m doing?
What if—god forbid—I had cut a major artery?
“None of that happened. This is what the first-aid kit is there for,” Meghan said patiently after the EMTs left her house. Because I couldn’t stop pacing around outside like an animal.
I’d called them, then ran to the street and threw up.
That night, I learned what a rookie I am at knife play and bondage. Meghan wasn’t supposed to flinch, but that’s not her fault. I hadn’t secured the ropes tight enough.
As soon as I saw red, I bit back the sickness rising in my throat and untied the rope. The bruises stood out to me, then. The rope burns. The marks on her collarbone, her ass, her breasts from my teeth.
“They questioned me for 30 minutes! And then the cops came, for fuck’s sake. You left me alone with the police! They didn’t believe me when I said we were messing around. They wanted to kick your ass when they saw the bruises. Do you know what it takes for that to happen?”
The fact that Meghan had to use her status and money to persuade the cops to make the entire incident disappear from the overnight docket was the cherry on top of the worst night of my life, apart from the night my mom died.
I wish she had let the cops find me and pick me up. I would have preferred someone in a holding cell kick the shit out of me than to be alone with my thoughts.
Am I ready to try again? Just thinking about playing our games makes me sweat as I bus tables.
I’m not sure about anything anymore. I only know what Meghan wants when she looks at me like that. I know what her body craves. And there’s only one person who can give it to her. Me.
This can’t happen, though. It shouldn’t happen. We’re not ready. We went too deep before; who says we won’t risk too much again?
We’re safe as long as Meghan doesn’t give me the signal. At the marina, Meghan wasn’t wearing the thin gold chain around her neck. So, at least there’s that.
As she smiles and chats with that tool of a date, though, I see the delicate gold “M” glinting at her neck.
Goddamn it, Meghan.
She must have stopped at the lake house and put it on before coming here. She put it on for me. As soon as I saw it, I couldn’t look directly at her. I’m conflicted, full of dread but also anticipation.
I’ve resisted eye contact with Meghan until now. I had no reason to connect with her; I corrected those people out of sheer habit. Boat tours have made me a nerd for local history; that’s all that was.
