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“You would miss this little tiger.” The toy dangles in front of me as he holds it by its tail like a captured rodent.
I snatch my cat from him and hide it under the covers. “I’ll fucking kill Paris.”
“So what’s its name?” His voice is playful.
“Kitty has an emotional, personal value.”
I wish I didn’t feel this weak because I want to march out of here. Though I have no idea where I’d go since I need to avoid my place for a day or two more for Dad’s sake.
Dominic laughs. “Understood. Kitty looks like she’s seen a lot.” His eyes twinkle with mischief.
“She has. I got her from Kyle, so she is special, even though old.” I tell him about Kitty’s sentimental value only to make him feel bad about teasing me. Geez, this head cold took away my mental sharpness. I can’t even retort properly.
“Is the necklace from him as well?” His tone loses its playfulness. The cocky grin I’ve gotten so used to is gone as well. Puzzled by his need to know and my hesitation to tell him, I touch the pendant without even thinking about it.
The intensity of his gaze penetrates me with an odd feeling. It scares me, yet I can’t look away. Consumed by the sheer weight of his look, I struggle with a reply.
It feels like there is only one right answer and I might fail if I don’t get it on the first try. It’s ridiculous, yet my heart gallops.
“Why?” I try to avoid the answer, because as much as I don’t want to admit it, I don’t want to hurt him. But that’s what I see in his eyes.
The fever must have killed more gray matter than I thought possible. And why do I fear my answer might hurt him?
“You never take it off. I figured it’s important to you.” His eyes rest on my hand, squeezing the charm. I’m relieved he moved the attention from my face, but it’s only momentarily before he looks up again.
I nod, hating how this feels like a double betrayal. To Kyle and to Dominic. It shouldn’t, though. Goddammit.
Dominic’s face hardens. He studies me for a beat longer and I want to recoil. Or apologize. Or run. It feels like an important moment has just passed between us, but I’m too exhausted and scared to understand its significance.
He swings his legs off the mattress and stands up. “I’ll warm up some soup for you, but you should at least brush your teeth, Chils.”
I cover my mouth. Shit, this morning is a walk through a garden of humiliation. Frazzled by his gaze and questions and everything in between, I find some semblance of my typical mood and lean into annoyance, glaring at him.
“I’ll shower as well.” I look down and realize I’m wearing his shirt. It shouldn’t surprise me.
Dominic smirks and saunters to his closet and brings out another one. “Here. Are you sure you’re strong enough?”
I nod.
“Don’t lock the door,” he warns.
I take my time cleaning up, and it’s not only because the floor occasionally shifts around me violently.
Something has shifted between us. It challenges the control I have over this arrangement. Whatever we have is starting to feel more like a relationship, and I don’t know how to navigate that.
How to steer the ship back to its harbor where I can jump off safely. Where I can hide again. His piercing look a few minutes ago warned me there is no hiding from Dominic fucking Cressard.
My stomach growls as I wash my hair, and then again when I dry myself with a large, black towel. When I finally make it to the living room, I slump onto the sofa, exhausted.
I pull a soft blanket off the back and snuggle into it. Dominic comes over and leans in to kiss me.
“That’s better,” he murmurs. “Here, drink this.” He hands me a small plastic container with a ginger shot.
I down it. “I hate these things.”
“The taste is strong, but it should help you.” He misunderstands my comment.
“I’m talking about the product itself. Look at this tiny, cute cup filled with five dollars of ginger juice. A prime example of consumerism. You can buy ginger root and make your own for a fraction of the price. Someone packaged the convenience and now it’s the new trendy shit to drink.”
