Page 30 of The Penthouse


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I pull into the parking lot of the grocery store and hop out. As soon as I’m inside I go straight to the chip aisle. Doritos are my favorite, but I’m kind of feeling like kettle chips, so I grab a bag of my favorite salt and vinegar kind. I continue around the store, picking out random pieces of junk food, but also something to make a few meals to last until payday.

Once I’m done shopping, my handheld basket filled with food, I go to the register to pay.

As I head out of the store, I reach down to grab my keys off my belt loop, but my hand just skims the fabric of my jeans. I curse, looking down as I try to find them.

“Where the fuck…” I’m so in my own thoughts that I don’t see the huge wall of a man until I slam into him, causing me to gasp from the force of us colliding. The scents of cigarette smoke and whiskey fill my nostrils.

Damn, he’s built.

I don’t look at him, but as I’m pushing my hair out of my face, I get a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. He’s at least six feet or taller, and he’s dressed in black from head to toe.

“Sorry,” I murmur, rushing past him before he has a chance to say anything. I know I’ve just pissed him off, and I’m really not in the mood to be screamed at by some mammoth of a man in the middle of the grocery store parking lot, so I rush to my car.

An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach, making me turn around. He’s still standing at the entrance of the store staring right at me.

He’s East Asian, and his shiny black hair is pulled up into a sleek bun. His features are brutally beautiful, and I would be enthralled if he weren’t looking at me the way he is. Like he’s the predator who’s finally caught his prey after lying in wait.

The corner of his mouth curves in amusement, sending shivers down my spine. I look away, put my groceries in the backseat, and jump into the car and drive away.

I can still feel his eyes on me as I pull onto the main road and gun it home.

“Shit.” I’m fumbling for my keys again. Instead of making two trips to get all of my stuff out of the car, I decided to grab everything in one go. I’ve got three full grocery bags on one arm, my backpack on my back, and two binders full of projects and crafts wedged between my chin and forearm. My knee is resting against the doorjamb as I try to get the key into the lock. I kick at the door in frustration, hoping my roommate, Sarah, will hurry the hell up and answer.

When I’m finally able to open the door, my binders crash to the floor, and I’m about to yell at Sarah that she’s a bitch when I hear it—

The pounding of the headboard against the wall, the creaking of the mattress, and Sarah’s moans as she thoroughly enjoys her company.

Great.

Setting the groceries on the kitchen floor, I huff out a breath and kick my binders out of the way before unpacking the bags as quickly as I can.

This is my problem with her. She’s always bringing guys home and fucking them until all hours of the night. I guess when you’re the daughter of two successful doctors and a brand-new college student, you can do whatever you want with your time.

I’m not judging in the slightest. If the girl can get it every night of the week, then more power to her, but I’m the one that has to listen to it and still get up at five in the morning the next day.

Sighing, I put my groceries away. I had planned on making spaghetti with garlic bread for dinner, but now that my plans have changed, I decide on a bowl of cereal instead. I grab a few snacks and drinks and hurry into my room, shutting the door behind me. I can still hear Sarah screaming, and a part of me wonders if she’s actually in pain—but then I remember she’s a masochist, so she’s probably seeing God right now.

When I finish inhaling my food, I take a hot shower, change into my comfy clothes, then slide into bed with my snacks. I turn the TV volume up loud enough to drown out Sarah and her guest and watch a random show until I fall asleep.

Chapter Two

Jasmine

BYTHE TIMEIGO ON MY LUNCH BREAK THE NEXT DAY,I’Mexhausted.

Sarah and her boytoy kept me up all night with their endless escapades. No matter how high I turned up the volume on my TV, or how many pillows I used to cover my ears, I could still hear the damn bed creaking and headboard ramming into the wall.

They never. Fucking. Stopped.

Not until two in the morning, anyways. I was able to get a couple hours of sleep in between rounds, but it wasn’t enough to keep me from being a grump today.

So now I’m trying to figure out if I want to take my daily jog or take a nap in my car.

My body is pulling me towards the nap, but my brain is telling me to take the jog, because if I don’t then I’ll be restless anyways and won’t be able to sleep.

I sigh. “Jog it is.”

I grab my workout clothes from my backpack and change quickly in the bathroom. Once I’m dressed and my curls are pulled up into a bun, phone strapped to my arm and earbuds blasting music, I head out of the double doors and down a short flight of stairs. Once my feet hit the sidewalk, I don’t give myself a chance to second guess this decision before my feet are taking me in the direction of my usual path.

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