22

I let her hurry back to the living area, smoothing her clothes out and catching her breath, and lingered in bed to have breakfast. A while later, I found myself standing before the open closet, just out of the shower, nothing on but the towel around my hips, staring blankly at out underwear drawer.

To be continued.

Yeah, sure, but not today. He wouldn’t seek me out two days in a row. Surely he was way more twisted than that. He would do like before: he’d wait and let me think he’d forgotten about me, so I could forget about him. Only then he’d summon me to the infamous room twelve, just around the bend from the West Wing.

Fuck him. Not like I would start picking my clothes with him in mind.

Steph had ordered a chicken waldorf to go for me, and it arrived five minutes before my ride. She added a bottle of soy apple juice.

“No coffee today, you hear me?” she said, handing me my bag.

I held her closer to kiss her, let her pull up my mask and left, feeling a thousand times better than the