*
Samantha
An hour ago I was in front of my mirror, putting on mascara for a few pictures at the club. The night was supposed to end with me going home, changing into my pajamas and fuzzy socks, and scrolling on my phone. Instead, I was in a black BMW, with a bartender, going to his place.
My armpits were dripping. My mouth was so dry, the word saliva did not exist. What was I thinking? What if I was about to be kidnapped and locked in a basement? I had no muscle to fight him off. No negotiation skills. The best I could do was plead for mercy, which would only turn him on if he was a psychopath.
And if I had to kill him...say with a butter knife—why would he give me a butter knife—IF HE WAS FEEDING ME breakfast with toast and jam while I was chained to the floor with my clothes torn and hair greasy, cause it's been what, a couple of weeks? Months? I'd lost so much weight...but my survivor instincts stayed intact. So I'd be buttering my toast, then...BAM! Stab his eye out, blood gushing everywhere. Then I'd run to the door for my freedom—what if the door was locked and the keys—
"Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"You know I've been talking to you for like the last five minutes?" His forehead wrinkled with raised eyebrows. "Look, if you don't feel comfortable, let's not go. Want me to drive to McDonald's? We can go right now. Whatever you want, just tell me."
"I'm not uncomfortable? I'm fine. I'm just a little nervous." It was normal, right?
"Uh-huh. So if you get mad, who's going to burn my eyes? Your bunny?"
"Huh?"
He pointed at my lap. Oh God! When I was searching for gum earlier, I'd taken out my bunny keychain and pepper spray from my bag. I hadn't realized I've been fidgeting with the ears this entire time.
"Yeah, this is actually a very dangerous mafia bunny?" I kept a serious composure. "It escaped from prison, thanks to his many other... mafia connections, and now he's... retired as a bodyguard. So you know, don't underestimate the cute face! He'll kill ya."
"Of course." His dark eyes glinted with traffic lights. "How could I? The cutest faces are the most dangerous on the planet."
"What?" I chuckled. Why was he going along with this?
"Oh, yeah. They're sick. One day, I might be walking by myself, singing, thinking about the cute girl I took home. Then out of nowhere, her bunny will come and run me over with a car. You know what'll happen then?"
"What?"
"I'll die and the bunny will go home. He'll convince the cops it was my fault." He mimicked a baby voice. "Offisher he wanted to die, he kept throwing himshelf in front of meee."
I snorted out a laugh. "That's a very vivid imagination."
"Oh, you don't know about my imagination," he said in a filthy voice.
"I don't want to know."
"You want to know."
"I don't."
"You don't know that you don't know how much you want to know."
I looked out the window giggling, then noticed he was turning into a gaited neighborhood. "Oh. We're here already?"
Across the street was a high-end shopping and dining center. Retail stores like Nordstrom, Bloomingdales, and Banana Republic flaunted summer looks on the back the brick walls.
Driving through the gates, he passed a water fountain in front of sky-high towers. But he didn't stop there. He drove deeper through dark courtyards, where one-story apartments stretched with colorful doors and street lamps.
What a fancy place...
"Dude. Do you know where I live? My building is so ancient, the elevator has a manual door which won't even open." I looked at Ashton like it was all his fault. "I have baby cockroaches living in my drawers."
He made a yikes face. "Jesus..."
"I thought bartenders don't make a lot, how do you live here?"
"Well, what can I say? I'm full of surprises." He sighed like it was a full-time job to be that cool and pulled by a curbside, shutting off the engine.
"There has to be a—" I was about to say 'catch', but he got out, strode toward me, then opened my door. "Oh. Thank you."
My arms prickled with goosebumps from the humid cold. Or maybe nerves. Definitely nerves. Ashton placed his hand on my low back and ushered me down a paved road with apartments on each side. My heels hit the ground with obnoxious noise. Click, click. Click, click.
"Let's see if he's up, shall we?" Ashton stopped before a turquoise door ornamented with succulents and knocked like he was owed money. "Hey, Luka! Lukaaa! Hey, open the door!"
"Oh my God." I palmed my face. "You'll wake up the neighbors!"
It was too late. The windows left and right were lighting up thanks to his yelling.
"Hellooo! Wakey, wakey, Luky boy! I'm heeere! Ey!"
I expected someone around his height when the door opened, but he was actually just a little bit taller than me. He had dirty-blonde hair and soft facial features like young Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic. But instead of shaggy clothes, he was in blue pajama bottoms and a pink shirt.
"Ты что, спятил? Что тебе нужно так поздно?" He rubbed his sleepy eyes.
"English, idiot. Don't you see I'm with somebody? Good morning!" Ashton tipped his chin at me. "Okay, tell Sam what you think about my potatoes."
"Your potatoes?" His ears perked up. "Why? You making them right now?"
"Not for you, for Sam. Tell her they're perfect."
"They're okay." He shrugged.
"What? Then why do you beg me to make them all the time?"
"I don't know, do you know how to make anything else?"
"Wow..." Ashton chuckled like he'd been deceived. "Okay, I see you. You'll eat your words later, you hear me?" He wiggled a finger. "I won't forget this."
"Sorry, it's my fault." I raised my hand with a smile. "I told him I wanted McDonald's and he went all caveman on me."
"Of course he did." Luka smiled back. "But to be fair, he does make great potatoes. I mean, I think anyone would after their millionth time—"
"That's good, go to bed. Your brain's working too hard." Ashton tried to close the door, but Luka pushed back. "И не забудь одеть наушники, понятно?"
"Hellooo?" I crossed my arms. "English, please."
"You go Sam, tell him." Luka snickered.
Ashton began to argue, but I narrowed my focus on his brother who looked oddly familiar. "Do I know you from somewhere?"
"You've might've seen me on TikTok? I do those dance videos." His eyes light up.
Ashton was still going off, but I was too over the moon to listen. "Oh my God! I DO know you...you're so talented! I see your videos all the time. You have like a million followers."
"Two!" Ashton snapped, then ducked his chin sheepishly. "He has two million..."
"Wow." I turned back to Luka. "You know you're living my dream? I'm trying so hard to be an influencer—"
"Ew. Why?" Ashton wrinkled his face like I just said I fart in mason jars and sell them on Ebay.
"Because they make bank?" I chuckled, pointing my arms at Luka. "He just scored a campaign with Nike! Do you know what an achievement that is?"
"Aw." Luka melted. "You want to hang out with me? We can talk more if you want and make a dance—"
"I'd LOVE to—"
"No, you're hungry. Let's go." Ashton almost picked me off the ground and took me away.
"Bye, Luka!" I stretched back to wave, then looked at Ash. "Are you sure you're related?"
"Ha ha, very funny." He unlocked the adjacent door to his apartment.
He started to pull me in, but it was pitch-black inside. No! My hand caught the doorframe as if he was trying to push me off an airplane.
"What's wrong?" His brows furrowed.
"I, uh..." The light switch was on the wall beside him.
Following my gaze, he flipped it on. The apartment behind him came to life and reality came back on. "You scared of the dark?"
To put it mildly... I just gave him a nod.
"Alright, come on." He opened his hand toward me. "I got you."
Lies. We barely knew each other. He probably didn't care. But when his hand wrapped around mine like a shield and took me in, for a superficial reason, it helped a little bit.
He took his sneakers off, exposing his black socks. The sight of his manly feet in soft fabric was adorable. I also took off my heels, which lowered my face to his chest. I hoped my hairline wasn't balding, he could see everything.
"You want some water?" He padded to the kitchen on the right, switching on the lights.
Zero design. No pillows, no rugs, not even a picture frame. The living room just had a black, sectional couch with an oversized coffee table, which he probably used for breakfast, lunch, and dinner—considering there was no dining table. Then a mounted TV, of course, and a gaming station. Oh, and floor-to-ceiling windows, which were gone to waste with hospital blinds.
At least the floor was spotless...actually it was shining. And when he washed his hands in the kitchen sink, he didn't use dish soap. It was a hand soap, one of those brown glass dispensers.
I twisted the cap of the water bottle he gave me, but my muscles felt like jello. This was so weird...I was at a stranger's house, a guy who probably expected a hook up. How was I supposed to act? What did he expect of me?
"Do you mind if I smoke?" I blurted out.
"What, like cigarettes?"
"No, no! Just weed... helps me loosen up a little." My cuticles were going raw behind my back.
"If you need to." He focused on washing his hands. "But to be honest, I'd prefer if you didn't. If that's okay with you?"
"Really?"
Was he uncomfortable with drugs? I mean, weed was no big deal to me, but some people disagreed. I stepped closer to read his expression, leaning forward on the sink to look at him.
He glance down at me and smirked. Wow. Just like that, the roles flipped.
"What? My pulse doubled.
He flicked the faucet off, ripped a piece of paper towel roll and stood in front of me. Just drying his hands, looking at me like a cat at a caged bird.
Then he came down, held my chin with two fingers and pecked me on the lips! I flinched out of my own skin, face erupting like a volcano.
And he just inched back to linger on my reaction as if that's exactly what he was going for. "I can't do that again if you smoke too much."
My jaw was on the floor, but he had already turned around to open a white cabinet and was putting a bag of russet potatoes on the counter with a cutting board. I still hadn't moved.
"You good?" He smirked at me over his shoulder.
The nerve! I couldn't believe him. What a jerk. I unzipped my bag to get back at him and pulled out a black tube.
"Great," I said in a sweet voice, popping the lid open. Such a lovely sound. I looked at him and brought the strawberry flavored joint to my lips.
He turned back to peeling, which shouldn't have deflated me with so much guilt, but it did. I didn't mean to hurt him? Besides, I'd be more fun and less anxious if I smoked.
"Don't worry, this is a daily habit. I know my limits," I said, flicking the lighter under the tip.
"That's not good..."
With his V-shaped body hunched and head hung low, he looked like a testosterone animal in a doll house. I propped myself on the counter so that we faced each other.
"I know, trust me. I'm not super proud of it."
"Sorry if I offended you," he mumbled.
"You didn't," I smiled. "But thank you."
His square-shaped fingertips glistened with moisture as he held a halved potato and slid the knife across it. He was so focused, so careful. As if he was cooking for someone important.
"Thank you for doing this," I said. "You don't have to."
"You don't have to thank me. I wanted to."
"Ugh. Why are you so nice? You're making it too hard to stay mad at you." I leaned my head back on the shelf, sucking the joint until my lungs burned. "Is it a trick of yours?"
"No? I don't have tricks."
"Yeah, you do."
"I don't." He shifted in front of me, hovering his crotch in front of my crossed knees.
Even at eye-level, I shrunk from the way he looked at me.
He took the joint from my hand and brought it to his lips. I watched in awe as his cheeks hollowed behind a swirl of smoke. He turned his face and blew down like he was mad at the floor.
"Yeah, I don't get it." He slid his palms on the counter, forearms emitting heat by my sides. Combined with the smell of his masculine cologne, the room felt more like a sauna.
"W-what?"
"Weed. I don't get the hype. You feel loose?"
I gulped. "With you, I'd need a bag of cocaine."
He chuckled. "Is that so?"
"Stop." I tried not to smile back. "You're so cocky."
"You're the one laughing at my cocky jokes. I'm just going based on your reactions."
"Yeah, right." I looked boldly back at him as he brushed his thumbs on my outer thighs. "You're just a player."
"No, I'm not? What, because I make you laugh? Can't it just be because I like you?"
"Then you should probably get back to those potatoes, no?"
He chuckled like I'd just punched him in the gut. "Okay. Yeah, you're right. You're right."
I smiled, proud for catching him off guard. Ash bent over to grab a bowl then set it on the counter, pouring the potatoes.
"So, why are you scared of the dark?" He sprinkled a hefty amount of paprika.
Oops. Bad topic. "Uh, just 'cause. Always been like that, you know? I think that's why my roommate is kicking me out."
"Your roommate is kicking you out?" He paused the small jar in the air.
I grimaced. "Yeah...it's kind of an awkward situation. We share a bed in a studio apartment? She's been having trouble sleeping with me, cause you know, I need a nightlight?"
I'm hundred percent sure that's the reason Stacy was done with me. Why wouldn't she be?
"You need a nightlight?" Ashton softened like I was a baby kangaroo.
"Shut up."
"Do you also cuddle your bunny?" The baby voice was back, now elevated with a lip pout.
"You're so rude!" I smacked his arm. "This is a serious problem, you know? It's debilitating."
"No wonder you were so uncomfortable at the club. Did someone lie to you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Did they say you're going to a pajama party?" He widened his eyes.
"Asshole!"
He snickered, folding forward with laughter.
"You're so rude!" Now I was waking the neighbors.
He wiped an invisible tear, turning on the stovetop below a drizzled pan. The oil hissed as he poured the potatoes and shuffled them.
"I need some air, you're too much." I hopped off to open the window over the sink, but it didn't budge.
"Hold on. This thing gets stuck sometimes." He put his hand on my low back to nudge me aside. I paid way too much attention to the way his hand tightened on the handle.
"Thank you." I sighed as the breeze cooled my overheated face.
"So, what's up with this influencer bullshit you want to do?"
And the moment's gone. "It's not bullshit."
He pressed his lips down on the joint, flipping the potatoes onto their golden side. My mouth watered from the smell of garlic and starch.
"Mmm..." I accidentally brushed my chest against his forearm. "When is this going to be ready? It smells so. Freakin'. Good..."
"Ten or fifteen minutes."
"Ugh, but that's like an hour in hungry time!"
"Oh really, I thought you wanted McDonald's?"
I feigned innocence. "Oooh, should we order McDonald's?"
His glare was so fulfilling, I bit back a smirk.
"Yeah, keep laughing." He stepped toward me.
I forgot how to talk and watched him place the joint on the edge of the sink so the ash would fall in. That was thoughtful of—he whirled me by the waist and pinned me against the fridge.
"Oh my God!" I gasped like a flustered moron, then tried to laugh it off. Oh, kill me now.
"Now. What were you saying about McDonald's?" He lowered his voice in my ear.
Weakness shot through me like electricity.
"I said, uh..." How was I supposed to think when he was kissing my temple? Or my cheek? Or my jaw? Oh God. My eyes closed. His breath fanned over my lips. "Um..."
"Is this okay?" He cradled my face like I was melting away, which I was.
"Mhm."
"Yeah?" He leaned our foreheads together, stroking my cheek as if to let me think.
The message was clear, this was up to me.
I answered by leaning in, but still, he tested with a soft, tender peck. The sound washed away behind the crackling of oil. I opened my eyes to him looking at me, and that was it.
His mouth caught mine with so much force, it pushed my head against the fridge. He kissed me slow and firm, savoring my lips like he could do this for hours and not get tired of it.
Before I knew it, I was holding onto him like he had all my oxygen. A sigh more like a whimper slipped out of me, pleading him for more. It led him to grip the back of my thighs and toss me up on him, hitching my skirt over my hips.
"Still okay?" He moved onto my neck, sucking my skin between his teeth. "Hm?"
I moaned, tilting my head back.
He spread his fingers over my hips and grabbed a chunk of the flesh. So hard it could bruise. It shocked pleasure from my belly to my clit.
"I promised you I'd be good," he hissed, staring at my mouth like he was on the brink of insanity.
"Well, you're making me really wet, so..."
"My God..." He buried his face in my neck. "Don't tell me that."
"Keep going, please. I had—" I gasped as he kissed and swirled his tongue below my ear. "Ugh, the worst night ever and you're... really changing... it. Mmh. I mean it. Please. Not like I can go home anytime soon."
"What do you mean?" He pulled the strap of my top off my shoulder, kissing lower and lower.
"I uh, my roommate, she's with her fiancé."
"Who?" He pulled back to look at me.
"Fiancé..."
"Wait. Who's your roommate?"
~A/N~
I think, I THINK the truth is about to be out...aw man, what a horrible timing.