Crushed (erotic) (#3, 101 Nights)

Chapter Nine: Natalie

It’ll probably be one of the last nights I’m in a bed this comfortable, but I don’t sleep well at all. I have an event scheduled this evening, which gives me time to get my thoughts straight.

After a quick breakfast, I leave the kitten with an unimpressed Jamil then join the awaiting security team in the basement for a ride over to my apartment. I’m beginning to think I need to do more than clean out the fridge. I should probably straighten up for my inevitable trip home.

I don’t know why the idea depresses me so much. I barely register our route to the apartment building, not forcing myself out of my stupor until I see the media waiting in front of my building. I have a feeling they’ve never left, staking out the one place they figure I’ll come back to, if not to grab stuff from my apartment then to see my parents.

With a deep breath, I straighten my sweater and prepare for a quick walk through the press on my way to my apartment. I don’t feel like smiling today, but I know I need to.

The moment the door opens, the flashes and questions start. A gust of wind makes my short curls fly around my head. I love the feeling and grin big, swiping my hair out of my eyes with one hand and stepping forward to join the security team.

One of them takes my arm, not allowing me any time at all to stop for a picture. We reach the lobby, and the doors close behind me. One of them stays in the lobby while another accompanies me to the fourth floor, where my apartment is.

“Oh, god.” Alisha is right; I can smell my apartment before I reach the doorway. I glance at the security guy and mumble an apology. “Sorry. I left something in the fridge I shouldn’t have.”

He doesn’t seem to care and opens the door. After a quick once through, he leaves me to my apartment.

It’s so tiny and messy, compared to where I’ve been living. I stand in the quiet living room, noticing for the first time how musty it is and how the light from the windows doesn’t reach half the corners. I never thought it was depressing or dark before.

As much as I hate admitting it, I love Elijah’s new apartment. There’s so much light and warmth and homeliness to it …

“No use thinking like that, Natty,” I murmur. Nose wrinkling, I deposit my purse on the dining table then enter the kitchen and wrench open the door to the fridge.

There’s an entire turkey in the middle of the top shelf, as if I’d taken it from the freezer to thaw it out then forgotten about it.

Except I didn’t. There’s no way I’d buy a Thanksgiving-sized turkey to feed just me.

I stare at it, uncertain how a turkey that size got in my fridge. It’s definitely been there for a while. It absolutely reeks, and there’s a puddle of god-knows-what on the shelf that’s dripped to the other shelves.

“So gross.” Irritated, I grab a trash bag from under the kitchen sink and open it, pausing to figure out the best way to remove the beast. Finally, I drape the bag over it and pick it up in one movement. “Gross, gross, gross!” I’m so disgusted by the smell, I almost drop it.

I double wrap it then set it on the ground, ready to tackle the horrible smelling goo left over in the fridge. My gaze settles on a small baggy in the center of the shelf. It was hidden beneath the turkey.

My name is written on the paper inside the baggy in Alisha’s overly curly, girly handwriting.

 I know for a fact I didn’t do that. I grab it with a paper towel and hold it over the sink, opening the stinking bag and carefully reaching into it to grab the contents. Inside is a letter and a bulky envelope.