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Holy. Fucking. Shit.
He saw me for the first time when I was helping Ellie in town. He’s been obsessed with me since then. I should be running. I should be getting away from him. This is the shit that starts with the stalker and then turns into murder. If I was smart, I would tell him that we’re done. That he better not come near me again. That I would shoot him if he does, but…. I can’t. File this along with every other stupid fucking choice I’ve made recently. I don’t care. But I’m not walking away from him.
He’s looking at me with pleading eyes. He wants me to say something, anything. Do something. So I do. I press my lips to his and let him know that it’s okay with my touch. I’m not going to change my mind.
“I guess we’re both a bit obsessed. This could be perilous.”
“It most likely will be,” he says reluctantly.
“I don’t care, though, Whitley. I need you. We’ll figure out the rest as we go.”
“How will we know?”
“Know what, Whit?”
“How will we know when we love each other?”
I wipe the tears coming from his eyes and kiss him again. “I don’t know because I’ve never been in love before. Something tells me that it’s going to be clear, though. We’ll be okay, Whit. We have to be. I won’t survive if we aren’t.”
He kisses me again, and we stay connected by lips and roaming hands until later when I slip deep inside his body. It’s slow, sensual, and perfect. It’s also the moment I realize that even though it’s too fast, we’re one step closer to moving out of obsession and into love.
Being on my bike again is orgasmic. I’m aware that I haven’t been on it lately because I’m stubborn, and I don’t want to leave my apartment. I’ve been able to work on everything in my house and maintain the security from my nest in the apartment. It was also a way for me to have easier access to Whitley. Even when I wasn’t sure if I should, now it was time to get on my bike and join my brothers for church. My body has healed, and there are no traces of the ring left on my skin. Now, if you remove my clothes, the only marks you’ll see are the ones that Whitley left there. The way that he makes me feel is almost as good as I feel riding my bike. The wind whipping at my face is a missed sensation. I check my watch and see that I still have more than enough time before I have to be in church, so I take a little while longer to get there. I want to enjoy the ride before I get what is sure to be bad news regarding The Company.
Pulling up to the gate, I punch in my gate code and drive through. It doesn’t take me long to get to where I’m needed and for me to see that I am the last one here. Shit. Guess I took a longer ride than I should have— more reason to hurry my ass up. I scurry up the steps and drop my phone in the basket. When I walk through the door, everyone is still talking and catching up. I take my seat at my computer, and it’s only minutes later that Cowboy begins.
Cowboy is talking, bringing up…something. I admit I’m not fucking listening. I can’t. I’m too distracted. Whitley hasn’t left my mind at all, and I know that I am going to end up regretting it, but I can’t seem to make myself shake him from my mind. He’s become everything. I am completely besotted by him. When Cowboy mentions something about us always talking to each other and keeping each other in the loop regarding the drugs, it makes me think about how I need to speak to someone about what I’m going through.
I look at the back of my best friend’s head, and for the first time ever, I doubt if he is the one that I should talk to. I don’t think that he would be mad, hate me, or tell me I’m disgusting. I think he would support me, give me shit, but also tell me that he doesn’t understand. I know that will be said to me a good amount of times, and I don’t know if I can handle hearing it from him just yet. Before Whitley, Zombie was the most important person in my life.
I choke, and everyone’s attention turns to me. I hit my chest while telling them that I forgot how to breathe for a second while also inhaling my spit. They just laugh at me, and Zombie hits me on the back before turning himself back toward our Prez.
Whitley has become the most important person in my life.
How the fuck does this happen? How can this be okay? I don’t have the answers, and I honestly don’t know if there is an answer for this, but I do know that I don’t care. Not really. He’s who I choose, and I am more than ready to see where this takes me.
But that doesn’t change the fact that I need to talk to someone about what I’m feeling. I need someone to either tell me that it’s going to be okay and to follow what my heart wants, or I need them to tell me that I’m an idiot and if I don’t want to see this club burned to the ground, I’ll stop seeing him.
That option is horseshit, but the worst part is I don’t know if I’d be able to.So what the fuck do I want to hear then if I’m not even going to listen?Fuck. This internal battle between right and wrong over a man will make me go insane.
Church continues, and I am no closer to figuring out who I can talk to.
“Cougar can’t get arrested anymore. It’ll be bad for all of us if he does. I’ll take one for the team and see what I can find out.” Turd says. I don’t know why he is offering to get arrested, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. At the mention of him taking one for the team, I knew immediately that he was who I needed to talk to. Turd is gay. He understands. The club doesn’t give a single fuck that he’s gay—so why would they with me?I know that they won’t, but this unknown, inexperienced fear is taking over.
“Dismissed.” Cowboy says as he bangs the gavel.
Everyone gets up, and I let Zombie know that I’ll come to find him in a minute. I lie and tell him that I need to talk to Turd about what the story will be so I can be prepared for getting his record wiped out. He slaps my shoulder and heads out.
“Turd. Can you stay back a bit? I gotta talk to you about this plan of yours.”
He nods, and I sit at my computer, waiting for everyone to clear out. Once the door shuts behind the last person, and it’s just the two of us, I take a deep breath in an attempt to get this out there. Turd comes over to my desk and sits down next to me.
“What’s up, my man?” he asks cheerily. “I didn’t think I’d need to do some big elaborate plan for—hey, you alright?”
I look at him, and I can see the concern in his eyes. I guess I’m a lot more worried about this than I thought.
“Naw, there’s nothing we gotta go over. You get in, I wipe the system, done. Look, I needed to talk to you and couldn’t think of anything else that wouldn’t cause suspicion.”
“Cause that ain’t fucking ominous.”
