Текст книги "Corrupt "

Автор книги: Penelope Douglas

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

His eyes locked with mine through his mask, and I wondered why he never took it off. The others had peeled theirs away now that the stunt was done.

“I don’t like drugs or drug houses,” he admitted. “Drugs are a crutch for people too ignorant to self-destruct on their own.”

I pinched my eyebrows together. “What do you mean? Why would anyone want to self-destruct in the first place?”

He held my gaze, and I thought he was going to answer the question, but then he walked around me, toward the car.

I shook my head, disappointed that I didn’t seem to understand what he was trying to say.

“Let’s go!” he bellowed, and everyone piled back into the car. I spared one last glance at the house, seeing it light up the night sky, and I smiled, hoping Kai had been on the phone calling the fire department.

He climbed in the driver’s seat, and I opened the door behind him, ready to climb in my seat, but I was yanked back, and the door whipped close right in front of my face.

My breath caught in my throat, and the next thing I knew my back was slamming into the car.

“Why did he bring you along?”

Damon scowled down at me, and I searched his face, confusion wracking my brain.

“What?” I gasped out.

“And why did he take you into the catacombs today?”

What was his problem?

“Why don’t you ask him?” I threw back. “Maybe he’s bored.”

His eyelids thinned, glaring at me. “What did you two talk about today?”

What the hell?

“Do you interrogate every person Michael talks to?” I charged.

He shot into my face, growling out his whisper. “I’ve never seen him give a hand-held tour of a fuck party before. Or bring someone along on Devil’s Night. This is ours, so why are you here?”

I remained silent, gluing my teeth together. I had no idea what to say or even think. I was under the impression Damon, Will, and Kai were on board with this when Michael picked me up earlier.

Were Will and Kai angry as well?

“Don’t think you’re special,” he sneered. “Lots of women get him. No one keeps him.”

I held his eyes, making sure not to let him see me falter.

“Rika,” Michael called. “Get over here.”

Damon kept his eyes locked on me for another moment and then backed away, letting me leave. I sucked in a breath, realizing my heart was pounding like a bass drum. I dived around the back of the car to meet Michael on the passenger side.

He opened the door and climbed in, tossing his mask to Will and then turning his eyes on me.

He wasn’t driving?

“Come here.” He held out his hand.

I inched closer and then gasped as he pulled me into the car, onto his lap, draping my legs across his.

What? I hooked a quick arm around his neck for support, my ass planted on his thighs.

“What are you doing? I asked, shocked.

“We need the room in the back,” he said, pulling the door closed.

“Why?”

He let out an aggravated sigh. “Your fucking mouth never stops, does it?”

I heard Kai snort, and I shot my eyes up, seeing him grinning as he turned the ignition.

Why had they switched seats? I could just as easily have sat in Kai’s lap.

Not that I was complaining.

I let Michael pull me in, my back against his chest, and I blinked long and slow, soaking up whatever was rushing underneath my skin.

His hand rested on my thigh while his other texted on his phone, his thumb jutting out a mile a minute.

“Let’s go,” he told Kai. “Hurry up.”

My jaw ached with a smile as Kai took off. I didn’t know what the hell was next, but all of a sudden, I was having a lot of fun.

Present

ANTHROPOLOGY OF YOUTH CULTURE.

I walked into my first class of this course, already jaded that I’d set myself up for failure. Either I’d relate to it too much or not enough.

Sure, I’d seen plenty of youth culture in my short years. The Horsemen in high school and the hierarchy they dictated. The mob mentality of the hazing events on the basketball team and whatever went on down in the catacombs.

The way the guys schemed as much as the girls, and the way we’d all been mirrors of our parents in some way. The few leaders and the many followers¸ and the only way you could be strong was if you weren’t alone.

And then there was Devil’s Night. The way much of our town looked the other way and let the youths have that one evening of mischief.

Youth culture in Thunder Bay was a snake pit. Tread lightly with no sudden movements or someone would strike. Unless you were a one of the Horsemen, of course.

But that didn’t mean I really knew anything of youth culture, either. My hometown population was largely wealthy and well-connected. That wasn’t the average. How much of a threat would you be without money¸ connections, and daddy? Was the playing field more level without those perks?

That’s what I was trying to find out. Without my family name and their money, without my connections and their protection, what was I capable of?

That’s why I’d left Brown and Trevor and the culture I’d grown accustomed to. To find out if I was a follower or a leader. And I doubted I’d stop until I’d proven it was the latter.

I walked down the carpeted stairs into the auditorium, scanning the tan seats for a place to sit. Which was difficult.

The classroom was built for at least a hundred students in staggered seating like that of a movie theater, and it was packed. When I’d registered for this class, I was told it was only offered once every two years, so it looked like a lot of people scooped it up when they could.

My eyes fell on a few empty seats scattered about, and then I stopped, seeing a brunette with long, silky hair dressed in a thin, beige cardigan. Stepping further down the steps, I glanced at her profile and stopped, recognizing her.

I hesitated, clutching the strap to my messenger bag. I didn’t particularly want to sit with her.

But I looked around, seeing places filling up, and there were a few empty spots in her row, so I didn’t have to be right next to her, I guess.

I walked down the row, sliding past the legs of the other students and slid into a chair, keeping an empty space between me and the guy to my right and also between me and the brunette on my left.

She glanced over and offered a small smile.

I smiled back. “Hey, you were with Michael the other night, right?” I broached. “At the elevator. We didn’t get a chance to meet.”

I held out my hand, and she narrowed her eyes, looking confused.

But then she relaxed, nodding and taking my hand. “Oh, that’s right. The younger brother’s girlfriend.”

I breathed out a laugh, not bothering to correct her. She didn’t need my life history.

“Rika,” I told her. “Actually, it’s Erika, but everyone calls me Rika.”

“Ree-ka?” she repeated, shaking my hand. “Hey, I’m Alex Palmer.”

I nodded, releasing her hand and facing the front of the class again.

Professor Cain walked in, with his graying hair, brown suit, and glasses, and immediately began unpacking his bag, taking out papers and setting up his projector. I dropped my bag on the floor, digging out my iPad and propping it up, so I could lay out the keyboard to take notes.

I tried to keep my eyes forward, but I couldn’t help but take Alex in out of the corner of my eye. She was really beautiful. Her green eyes were exotic and piercing, and she wore skinny jeans and a tank top under her open cardigan. Her body was flawless, sexy, and her tan skin glowed.

I pushed my hair behind my ear, looking down at my own clothes. Black leggings with knee-high brown-leather boots and an oversized white shirt with a burgundy scarf loosely tied around my neck.

I let out a breath. It didn’t matter. Even if I had dressed sexier, I’d still wouldn’t look like her.

“Move,” a deep voice ordered.

I snapped my head up, my chest immediately caving seeing Damon Torrance standing over me.

What the hell?

He glared down at Alex, his black hair gelled and his T-shirt just as dark as his hair and eyes.

I heard her shuffle, and I twisted my head, seeing her pick up her things and move a few chairs down.

My mouth hung open, and I narrowed my eyes. “What are you doing?” I demanded.

But he ignored me, brushing my legs as he pushed passed me and sat down on my left, in Alex’s seat.

“Hey, Rika,” another voice called, and I turned back to my right, seeing Will Grayson take the empty seat on my other side. “How’ve you been?”

Both settled back in their chairs, and I felt them like walls at my side. I hadn’t spoken to them in three years, and I stared ahead, not knowing what the fuck was going on right now.

Déjà vu. They were here. They knew I was here. The hair on my arms stood on end, and it was like no time had passed. Three years ago was today.

I squeezed my fists, noticing the professor coming to stand in front of the class.

“Hello, everyone,” he greeted, threading his tie though his fingers. “Welcome to Anthropology in Youth Culture. I am Professor Cain, and…”

I shifted my eyes, the professor’s voice trailing off as I felt Damon’s arm lay across the back of my seat.

Cain continued to speak, but dread sat like a brick in my stomach. “What are you guys doing?” I asked them, keeping my voice low. “Why are you here?”

“Going to class,” Will chirped.

“You go to school here?” I asked, staring at him disbelievingly before turning to Damon.

His eyes, so cold but so hot at the same time, were on me, as if the teacher and class weren’t even here.

“Well, we did kind of lose time,” Will mused, keeping his voice low. “I must say I was a little heartbroken not getting a letter from you the entire time we were away. The last night we were free, we all had a lot of fun, didn’t we?”

No. No we didn’t have a lot of fun. I breathed hard through my nose and hurriedly folded down my iPad and reached over for my bag, getting ready to leave.

But Will grabbed my wrist, pulling me back up. “Stay,” he suggested in a light tone, but I could tell it was a command. “We could use a friend in class.”

I yanked my wrist away, the skin burning where he’d gripped it. I pushed my desktop to the side, grabbed my shit, and shot out of my chair.

But then Damon grabbed the back of my shirt, and my heart skipped a beat as he pulled my ass back down into the seat, whispering, “Get up again, and I’ll kill your mother.”

I rounded my eyes, my breath turning shallow as fear scorched my skin. What?

A guy in the row in front of us turned his head, probably having caught that, and pinched his eyebrows together in worry.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Damon scowled.

The guy’s expression turned scared, and he quickly twisted back around.

Oh, my God. I dropped my stuff and just sat there, trying to figure out what to do. Was he joking? Why would he say something like that?

But then I stilled, remembering that my mother wasn’t home. She was away. I’d tried calling her several times this past weekend, but then, a couple of days ago, I finally got a text from her saying she was joining Mrs. Crist on their yacht for a cruise for the next month. She was on her way to Europe right now, and our housekeeper took the opportunity to go visit family out of town. The house was completely empty.

I let out a small breath of relief, relaxing. He couldn’t get his hands on her even if he wanted to. Not right now anyway. He was just fucking with me.

His arm snaked around my neck again and pulled me back into my seat. I stiffened as he brought me in close.

“You were never part of our group.” His angry whisper fell on my ear. “You were just pussy being groomed.”

And then his other hand slid to the inside of my thigh, squeezing it.

I whimpered in shock and grabbed his hand, ripping it off me. He reached for me again, but I bared my teeth, slapping him away.

“What the hell is going on back there?”

I stopped, hearing the teacher’s voice. Facing forward, I glared ahead, feeling eyes on us, but I refused to answer.

“Sorry, sir.” I saw Damon smooth down his black T-shirt as he slouched in his seat. “Gave it to her nice and good this morning, but she still can’t keep her hands off me.”

Laughter broke out around the class, and I heard Will’s quiet, self-satisfied chuckle next to me.

Embarrassment warmed my face, but it was nothing to the anger building under my skin.

What the hell did they want? This didn’t make any sense. This was mine. This school, this class, this new chance to be happy…I’d be damned if I let them chase me off.

The teacher shot us a look of annoyance and then went back to his lecture about technology and its impact on youth. Will and Damon settled back into their seats, keeping quiet.

But I couldn’t concentrate.

I just needed to make it through class. I just needed to get out of here and get back to my apartment and…

And what?

Who would I complain to? Michael?

Michael. He lived at Delcour, only one floor above me. The guys would be there. Frequently, probably.

Shit.

After years in jail, I would’ve thought they’d be long gone after that much loss of freedom.

But here they were. I guess this was more fun for them?

I dropped my gaze, seeing the tattoos scaling down Will’s left arm. He hadn’t had those when I last saw him. Giving Damon a sideways glance, I saw that his arms were still bare. I didn’t know why I wondered if the guys had changed or not, but one thing was for sure. They were still very much the same.

Minutes passed, and eventually Damon moved his arm around the back of my chair again. I remained frozen as I focused ahead and tried to listen to the lecture that was turning into more of a rant.

“The problem with your generation,” the professor preached, sticking his hands into his pockets, “is a bloated sense of entitlement. You feel owed everything, and you want it now. Why suffer the sweet agony of watching a television series just to find out the big reveal you’ve waited years to discover when you can just wait for the entire series to appear on Netflix and watch all fifty episodes in three days, right?”

“Exactly!” a guy on the other side of the room blurted out. “Work smarter, not harder.”

Everyone laughed at the guy’s dig.

Bloated sense of entitlement? What?

“I’ve been dreaming about those lips,” Damon said low in my ear, bringing me back. “You know how to suck cock yet, Rika?”

I recoiled, my stomach rolling. But he pulled me back in.

He’s just messing with you. Ignore it.

“But working hard builds character,” the teacher continued to argue with the student. “You aren’t born with respect and reverence. You learn patience and value through struggle.”

I forced myself to listen, but then my breath caught in my throat when Damon’s hand gripped my hair at my scalp and held me tight and still.

“Because when I shove myself down your throat,” he whispered over my cheek, “you better know how to take it and love it.”

I jerked my head away from him, growling under my breath. Sick fuck.

“Nothing worth having comes easy,” a girl went on, backing up the professor’s argument.

“Exactly,” he agreed, pointing out his finger in excitement.

Jesus. I rubbed my hands over my face, unable to keep up. There was something I wanted to say, but I couldn’t remember what it was.

Dammit, what was the professor talking about?

I sighed and shook my head.

“Yes?” I heard the professor call out.

When no one said anything, and Will and Damon had gone still, I slowly raised my eyes, seeing Cain looking directly at me.

“Me?” I asked. I hadn’t said anything.

“You seem frustrated. Would you like to contribute to the discussion other than distract the class with your boyfriends?”

My heart sunk. Will laughed under his breath next me, but Damon remained quiet on my other side.

I could just imagine what everyone thought.

I shifted my eyes from left to right, trying to recall what the hell the teacher had been talking about, and then I remembered the first point that had popped in my head before Damon first whispered in my ear.

“You…” I took a deep breath and met the teacher’s eyes. “You talked about an ungrateful generation whose lives revolve around the technology yours gave us. I just don’t…” I paused. “I just don’t think that’s a useful perspective.”

“Clarify.”

I straightened in my seat, sitting forward, away from Damon’s touch.

“Well, it’s like taking your child to an auto lot to buy a car and being angry when they choose a car,” I explained. “I don’t think it’s right to get aggravated with the public for utilizing conveniences that are made available to them.”

He talked about my generation’s “bloated sense of entitlement,” but it went much deeper than that.

“But they don’t fully appreciate the convenience of it in their lives,” Professor Cain argued.

“Because it’s not a convenience to them,” I shot back, growing stronger. “It’s their normal, because their frame of reference is different than yours was growing up. And we’ll say it’s a convenience when our children have things we didn’t. But again, that won’t be a convenience to them, either. It will be their normal.”

Damon and Will remained unmoving at my side.

“And furthermore,” I went on, “this discussion isn’t useful, because it won’t change anything. You’re angry, because your generation has given mine advances in technology and then blame us for the altered reality? Where’s the accountability?”

Will breathed out a quiet laugh next to me, while the rest of the room, including Damon, sat silently, as if waiting for whatever was next.

Professor Cain peered up at me, narrowing his eyes as the heavy silence wrapped around the room like a rubber band, making it smaller and smaller and smaller.

I felt like everyone was looking at me.

But as I waited for my skin to heat up with shame, it didn’t. Instead, my skin buzzed with adrenaline, and I had to hold back a smile as I stared at the professor.

This feels good.

Maybe it was the bullshit with Damon and Will or the run-ins with Michael, but the end of my rope was in my hand, and I was grasping for threads. I just decided to let go.

I didn’t drop my eyes. I didn’t blush. I didn’t apologize.

I owned it.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I sat back.

“She asked you a question,” Damon spoke up, making Cain’s face fall.

I blinked in surprise. What was he doing?

But Cain didn’t respond, merely straightened his back and walked back around his desk.

“Let’s think about that for next time, everyone,” he called out, plastering a smile on his face for the class as he evaded the discussion. “And don’t forget the reading assignment posted on my website. Have that ready for Wednesday.”

The class began to rise, and I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed my iPad, hurrying to make my escape, but Damon stopped me, getting in my face as he rose from his seat.

“No one fucks with you but us,” he warned with a sinister smile.

And I steeled my jaw, stuffing my belongings in my bag and shooting out of my chair.

All that time away, everything they’d lost, and this is what they indulge in when they come back? Me?

I slung my bag over my shoulder and glared at him. “Your sense of humor sucks,” I gritted out in an angry whisper. “It’s a little early for Devil’s Night pranks. If you ever threaten my mother again, even if it’s just joking, I’ll call the police.”

I turned to leave, but he hooked the back of my neck, and I came crashing into his chest. I gasped, my breaths shaking as students continued to filter out, seeming oblivious to what was happening.

“Who said I was kidding?” he whispered against my cheekbone.

I felt a body press into my back, and I knew it was Will caging me in.

I looked up at Damon, hardening my gaze. “What do you want?” I challenged. “Huh?”

He licked his lips, and I felt Will’s breath on my neck.

“Whatever it is,” he taunted, “I think I’m getting it.”

But I shook my head, feigning boredom. “A child can pick the legs off a spider,” I sneered. “What else you got?”

His eyes narrowed on me. “You’re going to be a lot of fun, Rika.”

He released me, and I immediately shoved him away, turning and pushing past Will. Hurrying up the stairs, I brushed past the other students to get away and barged out the door and into the hallway.

What the hell was going on?

WILL, KAI, AND DAMON WERE ALL OUT OF JAIL, all in Meridian City, and Will and Damon, at least, were seeking me out. Why?

Hadn’t they done enough damage three years ago? Hadn’t they learned their lesson then? They’d gotten what they deserved, and I couldn’t say I was sorry. They’d fucked up and they’d pissed me off, so any sympathy I mustered over the years for them was minimal.

I just wished they’d quit while they were ahead. They thought I was an easy target, and they mistook my quietness for weakness, but I was no longer their toy.

They needed to move on.

I didn’t have any more classes today, so I bolted from campus and rushed across the Commons to my apartment a few blocks down the busy city street.

Walking into Delcour, I spotted Alex, the girl from class and the other night, waiting at the elevator.

“Hey,” she greeted, turning to me and pushing her sunglasses up to the top of her head. “Are you okay?”

She must be asking because of Damon and Will.

I smiled weakly, hooding my eyes. “I think so. I used to go to school with them and be so curious about who they were. Now I just wish I was invisible to them again.”

I turned my eyes, seeing the blue lights of the elevator descending.

“Well, I don’t know Damon and Will all that well,” she stated, “but I can promise you, you were never invisible to them.”

And I shot her a look, seeing her eyes scale down my body.

She knew them?

Well, I guess that made sense. If she was seeing Michael, she would’ve met his friends, I suppose.

Which reminds me…

“Don’t you take the other elevator to his penthouse?” I asked her, pointing my thumb over my shoulder, indicating Michael’s private entrance.

“Whose penthouse?” she asked.

“Michael’s.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. She stepped in, and I followed behind absently.

“Yes, but I’m not going there,” she answered. “I live on the sixteenth floor.”

And I watched as she pressed sixteen and the doors slowly closed.

She lived in the building.

“Oh,” I responded. “Well, I guess that makes it convenient to see him.”

“I see lots of men.”

I raised my eyebrows. Oooookay. Whatever that meant.

I reached over and pushed twenty-one, holding the strap of my bag at my shoulder as the elevator approached its first stop.

“Women, too,” she added, sounding cocky.

I stilled, feeling the heat of her stare on my neck.

“Do you like women?” she asked matter-of-factly.

My eyes rounded, and a laugh lodged in my throat. “Uh,” I choked out. “Well, it’s never really occurred to me.”

Damn. Got to hand it to her. She knew how to get my mind off the guys.

She turned her head, looking at the elevator door and smirking. “Let me know if it ever does.”

The doors opened, and she stepped out, calling over her shoulder in a taunting voice, “Hope to see you around, Rika.”

And she disappeared down the hall, the doors closing behind her.

I shook my head, clearing it. What the hell was that?

When the doors opened again, I stepped out, going straight for my apartment. Once inside, I locked the door and dug my phone out of my bag before tossing the satchel onto the sofa.

No missed calls.

I spoke to my mother every other day, and if she didn’t have a signal, the yacht had a satellite phone. Why wasn’t she calling me back? Damon’s threat had me concerned now, and I wanted to make sure she was safe.

Pithom, the Crists’ motor yacht, was usually docked in Thunder Bay. They’d hosted many parties there growing up, but it was also perfectly capable of handling long ocean excursions. During the fall and winter months, Mr. and Mrs. Crist often took it to southern Europe for their annual excursion instead of traveling by plane. I guessed Mrs. Crist went ahead of her husband a little early this year and took my mother with her.

I dialed her number, the line going straight to voicemail.

“Okay, Mom,” I said, annoyance thick in my voice. “It’s been days. I’ve left messages, and you’re making me worry now. If you were taking a trip, why didn’t you call me?”

I hadn’t meant to yell, but I was already frazzled. I pulled the phone away, hanging up.

My mother was flighty and not at all self-sufficient, but she was always available to me. She was always in contact.

Walking to the refrigerator, I dialed Mr. Crist’s office and stuck the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I plucked out a Gatorade and twisted the top.

“Evans Crist’s office,” a woman greeted.

“Hi, Stella.” I took a quick sip and replaced the cap. “This is Erika Fane. Is Mr. Crist in?”

“No, I’m sorry, Rika,” she replied. “He’s already gone for the day. Would you like his cell number?”

I sighed, setting down my bottle. Stella had worked for the Crists and been Mr. Crist’s personal secretary my entire life. I was used to dealing with her, since she also handled most of my family’s finances for Mr. Crist. Until I graduated from college anyway.

“No, I have his number,” I told her. “I just didn’t want to bother him on his private time. Could you please ask him to call me at his convenience when you speak to him next? It’s not an emergency, but it is kind of important.”

“Of course, dear,” she replied.

“Thank you.”

I hung up and grabbed my Gatorade, moving to the window to look out into the courtyard and the city beyond.

The sun was starting to set, thin slices of it peeking through the skyscrapers as I took in the clear sky and purple hues in the distance. The lamps outside in the garden, sensing the disappearance of sunlight, suddenly lit up, and I raised my eyes, seeing the windows of Michael’s penthouse.

It was dark. I hadn’t seen him in a several days, not since the episode at Hunter-Bailey, and I wondered if he was off training or out of town. The basketball season would be starting in the next couple of months, but it wasn’t uncommon to have exhibition or pre-games before the regular schedule began. He’d be very busy and most likely away a lot between November and March.

I turned on some music—Silence by Delirium—and took off my scarf and kicked off my boots and socks as I spread out at the kitchen island with my laptop, working on the assignments I’d accumulated today.

In addition to the anthropology class, I’d also started Statistics, as well as Cognitive Psychology today. I still had no idea what I wanted to do for a career, but since I’d already taken so many courses between Brown and Trinity that focused on Psychology and Sociology, I was pretty sure I’d declare my major soon.

The only thing I knew for certain was that I liked learning about people. The way their brains worked, how much was chemical and how much was societal, and I wanted to understand why we did the things we did. Why we made the decisions we made.

After I’d finished reading, highlighting more lines than I hadn’t, I worked on the statistics problems assigned and then made myself a chicken Caesar salad as I finished a few chapters for my history class tomorrow.

By the time I was done, the sun had set, and I’d repacked my school bag for tomorrow’s classes and hooked up my iPad to charge. Walking to the windows, I dialed my mother again and gazed outside, the city glittering with life.

The call went immediately to voicemail again, and I clicked End, dialing Mrs. Crist right after.

But she didn’t answer, either. I left a message, asking her to call me and tossed the phone on a chair in defeat. Why couldn’t I reach my mom? She called nearly every day when I was away at Brown last year.

I glanced up, doing a double-take and noticing Michael’s apartment all lit up. He was home.

I twisted my lips to the side, thinking. I couldn’t reach Mrs. Crist, and her husband was a busy man. I hated bothering him or even dealing with him if I had to. Michael was slightly less frustrating, and he probably had the number to Pithom’s satellite phone.

Spinning around, I headed out the front door in my bare feet and took the elevator down to the lobby.

I wasn’t calling him. He’d just brush me off. I had a better chance if I asked him in person.

Stepping out of the elevator, I spotted Richard, the doorman, standing outside, and I quickly glanced around, looking for a desk clerk. It was after hours, so the lobby rarely had an attendant, but I was sure I needed a card key to get me into Michael’s elevator.

I jogged toward the front doors, ready to sweet-talk Richard into giving me access, but then an elevator dinged behind me, and I turned around, seeing a two tall gentlemen stroll out of Michael’s elevator. They were huge, at least four inches taller than him, and even he was big. They half-laughed together and half-played on their phones as they walked through the lobby, one of them giving me a smile as he passed.

They had to be basketball players. Probably teammates of Michael’s.

Shooting my gaze over the elevator, I saw that it was still open, and I didn’t wait. I hurried over, dived inside, and pressed the button for the doors to close. I didn’t even check to see if Richard had spotted me, too scared I’d look like I was doing something wrong.

The doors closed, the elevator immediately began ascending, and I locked my hands behind my back, breaking out in a smile at the rush.

It felt like forever, my stomach flipping and my heart racing, but when the elevator finally stopped, it was like no time at all. I was here.

The doors opened, and I raised my eyes, steeling myself.

It was dim. Like a cave.

A gray wall sat just ahead, and despite the drumming in my chest, I stepped out onto the black hardwood floors and crept slowly to the left, the only way I could go.

It smells like him. Spice and wood and leather and something else that I could never pin down. Something that was just him.

Slowly walking down the small hallway, I heard Godsmack’s Inside Yourself echoing through the penthouse, and I stepped into a large living area, taking in the beauty and the darkness all around me.

There were only dim lights on, and blue neon glowed from behind the black boards mounted along the walls. The living room dipped, and he had a whole wall of windows just like mine, but his was twice the length of my entire apartment. The thousands of lights of the city spread before me, and with the elevation, I could see more and more in the distance. It went on forever.