You Smell Like Piss

MILES

My eyes snapped open. It was like my body knew I had fucked up. Light filtered through green tinted windows, making my head pound.

All I could feel was heat and soft puffs of air hitting the top of my head.

Wait...

'I fucking didn't...'

My hand rested on a warm, muscled chest and I slowly, ever so fucking slowly, lifted my head to see the face that went with the body I was on top of.

At first, I was struck by the complete masterpiece of the man's sleeping face. Lightly, I ran my finger along his defined jawline, light stubble prickling me. His perfectly arched eyebrows were dark like his hair, not quite black but a rich, deep brown. His complexion was lighter than mine, more tan than olive, like he spent most of his time in the sun.

Then it dawned on me that he was the asshole that dumped his beer on me last night.

I tried to piece together why the hell I was lying on top of him in the first place. What the hell had happened last night? Where were my shorts and underwear? And why the hell were my tits hanging out while he was fully clothed?

Scowling down at him, I got up slowly, careful not to wake him. I searched the ground for my missing clothes but found nothing but an obviously used condom and what looked to be a shredded form of my underwear on the floor.

I sighed, massaging my temples and wondering why I was such an idiot. I had obviously lost it after my panic attack and thought it was okay to fuck a man who publicly degraded me.

Wait.

How had I gotten over my panic attack? I gasped, looking back at the sleeping man. Kenzie had told me his name right before we had our match. Dominic.

Dominic Black.

'You are such an idiot!' I told myself, smacking my forehead with each word.

I turned and made my way to the door, hoping to never see him again. At least I had no recollection of what happened between us, but by the look of my torn underwear, it must have been pretty wild.

After finding my shorts in the middle of the garden (which was very embarrassing), I checked my phone. There wasn't a single message from my mother, which had me freaking out. It was scarier when she was silent. There was probably a nightmare waiting for me at home.

I did, however, have 30 missed calls and 103 unread messages from Kenzie. Who the hell would send that many text messages?

Rushing my way out of the mansion and catching a bus home, I skimmed through them.

Kenzie: Where the fuck are you?

Kenzie: Are u OK?

Kenzie: I SWEAR IF YOU DONT ANSWER MY FUCKING PHONE CALL, ALL HELL WILL BREAK LOOSE!!!!

I quickly dialed her number. She answered on the first ring.

"I'M GONNA KILL YOU!"

I closed my eyes, holding the phone away from my ear as she yelled at me.

"Aren't you gonna ask if I'm okay?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

I heard her take a deep breath and calmly ask, "Are you okay?"

"Never better."

"Good. Now get your ass here so I can kick it!"

Overbearing mother: activated.

She was always dramatic when it came to me. It was nothing new for her to give me a lecture if she couldn't reach me. It was like a second nature for her to worry about me. Kenzie was the only person who knew about what my mother did to me and tried to make it a personal mission to stay over at my house as long as she could to prevent my mother's abuse. But she had been away this summer with her family, hence the fresh and old bruises on my back.

I sat listening to Kenzie rant about my irresponsible behavior on the bus ride home, responding with a "yes, I understand," or, "it'll never happen again."

When I got off the bus to make the final walk to my house, I had to get off the phone with her. My nerves started to do that thing they did when dread came knocking. Picking at my fingernails, I trudged the uphill street leading me home, and by the time I made it to the front door, more than a few were bleeding. Her car was in the driveway.

I checked under the empty pot for the house key, but it was gone, so I tried the door, hoping it would be locked so I could just turn around and find somewhere to be until she called me but, it was unlocked.

Walking in, my eyes scanned the living room and kitchen looking for any sign of my mother. I thought about calling out to her but panicked and went straight to my room, closing the door with a soft click.

"Miles? You home?" My mother sang.

Shit.

I scrambled around my room, trying to change my clothes as quickly as I could, tearing off my flannel, tank, and bra, but I wasn't fast enough as she opened my door and gasped. I stood frozen with my back to her. Chancing a glance at her, I slightly turned my head.

She stood at my door with a stony face, taking in my bruises. Her eyes trailed over my back and forth a split second, I'd have given anything to know what she was thinking, but I quickly shut the thought down, pushing it far back where it came from.

It wouldn't matter anyway.

"Oh dear, you must have had quite a night out with your friends." She said, her tone kind, but her eyes were void of emotion.

My brows furrowed in confusion. What the fuck? Why was she talking like that?

"Miles, my love, get ready so we can do a little shopping before dinner, okay?"

I was officially shocked. Maybe I had drunk myself into a stupor and accidentally died from alcohol poisoning. It would have made more sense. She never talked to me like that unless someone could hear. Not even on holidays.

My mother chuckled lightly, and it was music to my ears, like a siren's song leading me deep into the ocean to drown.

"Hurry now, I need your help with picking out a dress for tonight." And then she giggled like a schoolgirl with a crush.

"Oh hush," she said. "I'll see you tonight." a pause, "yes, you too love. " Another pause. "Okay. Muah!"

Oh.

She had been on the phone. The Bluetooth headphones seemed to have peeked out at my realization. As soon as she tapped her ear and hung up, she sneered at me, her eyes twinkling in amusement at my shock.

"Wipe that surprised expression from your face and take a shower. You smell like piss." With that, she turned on her heel and left.

I hadn't expected anything.

After a much needed shower and clean clothes, I headed to the kitchen to make myself something to eat. All that walking I did worked up an appetite, and I hadn't eaten since my shift the night before last.

I didn't think to ask if I could have the food before I got to work making a simple bologna and cheese sandwich. Before I could take a bite, it was slapped out of my hands, and it plopped on the floor with a slap.

"Do you think my house is some kind of hotel? You can wait until dinner to eat." My mother rounded the small island and grabbed her car keys. "Serves you right little bitch. Now let's go, I need you presentable tonight and it'll take a whole fucking salon to make that ugly face look decent."

I stared at my sandwich, wanting to be angry, wanting to be anything but all I felt was nothing. Hunger, and nothing.

I cleaned it up quickly before following her out to the car. It would earn me a slap if we came back and it was still on the floor.