on to tea.”
“You’re distracting him,” Charlie says. “You’re a goddamn distraction he doesn’t need right now.”
“Exqueeze me?”
“You heard me,” Charlie insists. “You see that red-head in the bikini? That’s an important source of info we need on our side. Jack’s gonna wind her around his pinkie, and he would’ve already, but you’re here, and for some fucking reason he likes your dumb ass and is putting it off.”
“You’re mistaken. We hate each other. Platonically.”
“You’re cockblocking him,” Charlie snarls. “Now get the fuck out of here, before I throw you out myself.”
“My, are you always this polite with the ladies, or am I the exception? Or perhaps it’s the dudes you reserve your politeness for? Understandable. Dude-asses are polite-worthy as hell.”
“Get. Out.”
Over his tanned shoulder, I see Hemorrhoid lean in and graze Jack’s cheek with her lips. Jack doesn’t recoil, taking it like a frozen statue, inclining his head only slightly in response. I get the message. I always get the message, because I’m Isis Blake and I’m last choice for teams in gym, always, and whatever we had has been swallowed up by the void of Sophia, by the pain, by the ice-cold shield against it all he calls ‘work’. The little ball-light of hope I held in the darkness flickers, weakening irrevocably.
“I was already leaving,” I say. Charlie watches me the whole way to the garage. My fury is the dull, aching kind, lingering even as I park and trudge up the stairs into the dorms. Yvette is, mercifully, not there. Her text from four hours ago reads; ‘staying at a friend’s, don’t worry’ . Another booty call, maybe. I don’t care. It’s her life, and as long as she’s safe and happy, I’m fine with it. I’m curious, but the throbbing hurt from the night beats louder against my skull as I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, hot moisture clouding my eyes.
I can’t sleep. Not until I say something. I grab my phone and text.
‘Do you know how many times you’ve made me fucking cry?’
His answer comes later, much later. It wakes me in two hours. I imagine him in her bed, sitting over the side of it, naked and with her naked and sleeping opposite him. I imagine his tousled hair, his lean muscles, his blue eyes made silver by the moonlight.
‘Too many.’ He says. Thirty minutes pass, and then; ‘Find someone who doesn’t make you cry. Find someone better.’
***
‘Do you know how many times you’ve made me fucking cry?’
I stare at the text, the sickly electronic light boring into my eyes like spears. Spears of guilt. Spears of regret. I shouldn’t be here, and what’s left of my heart knows that the second I read the words. I should be there, with her. I should be a normal college student, not playing at one while trying to catch a criminal.
Not fucking the criminal’s girlfriend so she’ll give me dirt on them.
It had been boring and routine, the steps ingrained in me from my time at the Rose Club. I’d added every trick I could to satisfy her – satiate her so fully she’d be crawling on her knees for more in the morning, and next week, and the week after that. Her mouth is the only useful part of her – spilling the secrets of Kyle, and consequently, his partner Will.
It’d been the first fuck since spending the night with Isis at the hotel. Isis’ smell surrounded me, vanilla and cinnamon, even when I hadn’t touched her for very long. The hurt in her brown eyes haunted me as I came in the nameless girl, the silent name on my lips spilling from a place of heart-torn, guilt-laced pleasure, and if I shut my eyes I could pretend, if only for the briefest second, that it was Isis beneath me.
But the illusion faded quickly.
‘Use everything you can to your advantage,’ Gregory’s voice resonates from training. ‘And that means your damn pretty face. Women will love it. Use them.’
The evidence we need is one step
“You’re distracting him,” Charlie says. “You’re a goddamn distraction he doesn’t need right now.”
“Exqueeze me?”
“You heard me,” Charlie insists. “You see that red-head in the bikini? That’s an important source of info we need on our side. Jack’s gonna wind her around his pinkie, and he would’ve already, but you’re here, and for some fucking reason he likes your dumb ass and is putting it off.”
“You’re mistaken. We hate each other. Platonically.”
“You’re cockblocking him,” Charlie snarls. “Now get the fuck out of here, before I throw you out myself.”
“My, are you always this polite with the ladies, or am I the exception? Or perhaps it’s the dudes you reserve your politeness for? Understandable. Dude-asses are polite-worthy as hell.”
“Get. Out.”
Over his tanned shoulder, I see Hemorrhoid lean in and graze Jack’s cheek with her lips. Jack doesn’t recoil, taking it like a frozen statue, inclining his head only slightly in response. I get the message. I always get the message, because I’m Isis Blake and I’m last choice for teams in gym, always, and whatever we had has been swallowed up by the void of Sophia, by the pain, by the ice-cold shield against it all he calls ‘work’. The little ball-light of hope I held in the darkness flickers, weakening irrevocably.
“I was already leaving,” I say. Charlie watches me the whole way to the garage. My fury is the dull, aching kind, lingering even as I park and trudge up the stairs into the dorms. Yvette is, mercifully, not there. Her text from four hours ago reads; ‘staying at a friend’s, don’t worry’ . Another booty call, maybe. I don’t care. It’s her life, and as long as she’s safe and happy, I’m fine with it. I’m curious, but the throbbing hurt from the night beats louder against my skull as I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, hot moisture clouding my eyes.
I can’t sleep. Not until I say something. I grab my phone and text.
‘Do you know how many times you’ve made me fucking cry?’
His answer comes later, much later. It wakes me in two hours. I imagine him in her bed, sitting over the side of it, naked and with her naked and sleeping opposite him. I imagine his tousled hair, his lean muscles, his blue eyes made silver by the moonlight.
‘Too many.’ He says. Thirty minutes pass, and then; ‘Find someone who doesn’t make you cry. Find someone better.’
***
‘Do you know how many times you’ve made me fucking cry?’
I stare at the text, the sickly electronic light boring into my eyes like spears. Spears of guilt. Spears of regret. I shouldn’t be here, and what’s left of my heart knows that the second I read the words. I should be there, with her. I should be a normal college student, not playing at one while trying to catch a criminal.
Not fucking the criminal’s girlfriend so she’ll give me dirt on them.
It had been boring and routine, the steps ingrained in me from my time at the Rose Club. I’d added every trick I could to satisfy her – satiate her so fully she’d be crawling on her knees for more in the morning, and next week, and the week after that. Her mouth is the only useful part of her – spilling the secrets of Kyle, and consequently, his partner Will.
It’d been the first fuck since spending the night with Isis at the hotel. Isis’ smell surrounded me, vanilla and cinnamon, even when I hadn’t touched her for very long. The hurt in her brown eyes haunted me as I came in the nameless girl, the silent name on my lips spilling from a place of heart-torn, guilt-laced pleasure, and if I shut my eyes I could pretend, if only for the briefest second, that it was Isis beneath me.
But the illusion faded quickly.
‘Use everything you can to your advantage,’ Gregory’s voice resonates from training. ‘And that means your damn pretty face. Women will love it. Use them.’
The evidence we need is one step
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