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Her lips flattened, and her gaze dropped to the floor just as his phone rang.
“Yeah, sure, I understand,” she muttered.
But she didn’t, and it was evident. This was what he’d been concerned about, the idea of her wanting more. And the worst part was, although he knew he couldn’t have it, he wanted more, too.
Dahlia lifted her chin and hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “I should head downstairs. Bye, Trey.”
Dahlia didn’t wait for a response, and Trey didn’t have one.
Chapter Seventeen
Why did a few days off from work feel like a prison sentence?
Dahlia slumped back onto the couch. It was where she’d spent the better part of her days off. She’d run errands, paid some bills, and cleaned up the house. Other than that, she’d sulked.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” she muttered, staring up at the ceiling.
This isn’t me. She hadn’t obsessed over guys since her teens. She’d been content with casual sex and a few one-night stands in the past. She certainly didn’t wait around for a call that would never come. Trey had been upfront, honest, and transparent, yet she still held out hope he’d call and change his mind about coming over. He didn’t. The only saving grace of this situation was that he’d never given her his number. It would be too tempting to call him. I’d be that girl.
One amazing night with a man she’d fantasized about for months, who’d lived up to every expectation, didn’t constitute a relationship of any type. Even with all her manifesting, she’d known what to expect. There were so many red flags with Trey, yet she couldn’t bring herself to fully acknowledge any of them.
Dahlia should’ve been basking in the relaxation of having a few days to herself. Instead, she was stuck in a holding cell of dread.
She rolled her shoulders, glancing down at her phone beside her on the couch. There were a few text messages and one missed call from her mother, but other than that, nothing urgent. No man was looking for her. Certainly not Trey.
She pulled her legs up on the couch, bending her knees and resting her cheek on them as she hugged her thighs deeper into her chest. Dahlia had thought these days were long past her. The incessant checking her phone to see if he’d called. It was child’s play and a game she hadn’t participated in since she was nineteen.
Look at me now.
“I need a distraction,” she muttered, hoping binge-watching trash TV would take her mind off him.
Dahlia was reaching for the remote when the loud banging on her door caught her attention, and she reached back, sliding the curtains to the side. It only gave half a view of the small porch, but it was enough to see who was there. Dahlia groaned, shaking her head. She’d thought she’d seen the last of Belinda a month ago. Apparently not. They’d never actually been friends, just roommates, leaving no reason for them to stay in contact. It made it all the more odd that Belinda was showing up at her house.
Dahlia dropped her feet to the floor and pushed up from the couch, making the short walk to the front door.
When she opened the it, she was surprised to see her ex-roommate was not alone. In fact, besides Belinda and her boyfriend Dave, there were two other men behind them.
“Can I help you?” Dahlia’s tone was laced with sarcasm.
Belinda stepped up in front of the small group. “I need my stuff.”
“What stuff?”
Belinda had been pretty thorough, taking all her possessions when she moved out. Dahlia had even done a sweep-through after she’d left. Belinda had taken everything.
“I-I…” Belinda glanced back at her boyfriend. “J-just my stuff.”
Dahlia snorted, eyeing her gang of misfits. Something was off with the group. The two men standing in the back were looking down at the street and nervously shifting, coming closer to the door.
“You got all your stuff, and if…” Dahlia never got to finish her sentence. The knob she’d been holding slipped from her hand when someone pushed the door open, sending her back a few steps and slamming into the wall. The back of her head took the brunt of the move. What the fuck?
Dahlia pushed off the wall, ignored the pain shooting down her back, and chased after Belinda, who was headed to her old bedroom.
Before she could reach the room, one of the men hooked his arm around her waist, lifting her off her feet and moving her to the living room.
What the hell is happening? Panic set in, and her blood rushed through her veins.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” Dahlia dug her nails into his forearm, piercing so hard she was sure she’d break skin, all the while thrashing and trying to escape his clutches.
