The Collector | 18+

【17】It Will Pass

Upon my insistence, he let go of me, the warmth of his palms and fingers replaced by the coolness of the room. We stared at one another for a moment, relenting to let this end. The surrounding silence was a stark contrast to the deafening tempest wreaking havoc in my mind.

After a few seconds that felt like a minute each, he turned to the side to open the door. He didn't move to exit the closet, though, leading me to understand I'd have to slip between him and the maintenance cart. Eager to get away from this oppressive space, I did that, leaning onto the cart so I'd barely brush against him.

Without a look behind, I hastily made my way down the hallway until I reached the stairs. Once the door was closed behind me, I grabbed the railing to lean on it, a hand pressed onto my chest over my hectic heart. I'd done the right thing, for my pride and my dignity, but why did it feel so wrong?

Going home to an empty apartment didn't sound very appealing, so after I'd stayed at work for two hours longer than I should have, I headed to Gigi's restaurant instead. Thursday nights were relatively calm, so a third of the tables were free when I arrived. I didn't feel like sitting there alone, though, so I waved through the serving hatch at Gigi and the two others in the kitchen, and walked to the swinging door. I headed directly to the tiny room she had in the back, which served as an office and pantry.

"Everything good?" she asked from the doorway once I was settled on her desk chair.

"Eh, not really."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Maybe later? I'm still processing it right now."

"Alright, sweets. What do you want to eat?"

"I'm not really hungry."

"That's not an acceptable answer, Mila. You're in my restaurant, you'll eat my food."

Her tough love was exactly what I needed, so I didn't complain. Instead, I offered her a small smile. "Surprise me, babe."

With a grin and a wink, she went back to her kitchen. I remained in there, enjoying the distant noises of the kitchen, as well as the aromas that reached in here.

As I'd done a hundred times since that moment in the closet with Mr. Westergaard, I checked my phone, hoping to see a message from him. He had my number, so for some reason, I'd expected him to apologize for what he'd done, to try to explain himself, to say we needed to talk... Although, I wasn't sure what I'd reply to the latter. But it didn't matter because he hadn't texted me, and it seemed he wouldn't. It was too late for it now.

Gigi came back about ten minutes later with a tray.

"There you go, sweets."

With wide eyes, I looked at the content of the tray she settled before me. There was so much to eat, and it all looked delicious. Spoiling others with food was her love language, so I was lucky to have a fast metabolism. She was the reason why I'd taken up running again, which I hadn't done since my track star times in high school.

"Are you trying to romance me?" I asked with a sly smirk. "Because it's working."

"Oh, please... You're the most desperately heterosexual person I know. It's a tad pathetic how much you like men, even."

"You like men too," I reminded her with a frown.

"No, I enjoy their bodies. I like men for sex, but I adore women for love. I mean, have you met men? They are so dependent, helpless, and needy. It's like having an overgrown child that you keep around because he's good at sex. And that's not even the case for a lot of women..."

"Not all men are like that, you know."

"Ew, I can't believe you just said that," she said with a disgusted shrug. I laughed at her antics.