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I shrug. “He likes the chase. That’s all. I guess to him, I’m a glorified secretary that he thinks he owns, even after hours, and I hate him for it.”
“Uh-huh.” Rose tosses me a suspicious look. “You hate it when a hot-as-fuck, smart, and wealthy man chases your ass around? Yeah, rough life.”
“It’s annoying.” We have this spat every week. “He’s a rich asshole who gets custom suits on King Street and orders Beluga caviar with his afternoon tea while I shop at thriftstores and bring PB and Js on Wonder bread for lunch. He gets off being rich and smart, and me being poor and?—”
“Um,” she raises her hand like a student, “Ms. Bitch, please. Feel free to jump off the sexy, boujee boss train and let me ride him instead.”
“Be my guest.”
She laughs. “You’d lose your shit. You two are OTP, and you know it.”
I scrunch my face. Rose teaches me all the slang from her students, but it changes on the daily.
“You’re a One. True. Pair,” she translates. “So stop running and let him catch you.”
“Hell no. Stalking him back is way too much fun.”
“Fun?” She raises a brow. “Or just another way of hating him so you won’t fall for him?”
“Okay, Freud. Put down the ink blots. I don’t see our father or stepfather in every other man.”
Her face softens. “I do. And the more I work through it like Scarlett did, and like Cherry is, too, the more I heal … and so should you.”
Cherry is our youngest sister, and she suffered the worst. After our dad bailed on us, my mom remarried the stepfather from hell. He was a predator, so Scarlett was our protector, I was our investigator, Rose was our nurturer, but Cherry was his victim. We used every trick to escape him, and it worked for a year until one afternoon, while my mom was at work, Scarlett caught him molesting Cherry. She almost killed him with an iron skillet.
So, yeah, we have legitimate trust issues.
“Come on, Rosé,” I tempt with her nickname. “Just tonight. It’ll be the last time I follow Axel to the club. I promise.”
“There’s a bull somewhere missing his shit.” She throws apillow at me. “But fine. Go get dressed in your slutty cowgirl disguise, and I’ll play Ruby for the night.Again.”
“Eeek.” I clap. “Thank you!”
“You owe me, you delulu, stalking bitch!”
I shout down the narrow hallway to my bedroom. “I don’t understand slang.”
“Yes, you do!” she shouts back.
I amnotdelusional when I sneak out the back door and leave Rose sitting in the living room, watching the flatscreen with her long, red hair in a ponytail, her back facing the window to the lot where Axel is parked outside.
But I am impatient when I hide on the side of my apartment building because it takes him twenty minutes to leave. That’s when I wait two more before I jump in my jalopy and follow him.
Almost every Saturday night, Axel follows me home, like he’s curious if I’m on a date. Which I’m not, and once he leaves, thinking Rose is me, I sneak out and stalk him back.
Imagine my delight when I followed him to the sex club in the old naval yard. Of course, I knew the place. I’m a member. But so is my sister and Luca and their polycule of friends, and again … lines … and me not crossing them. I hadn’t been back in over a year.
Besides, I’ve been content with Zar and Nick’s beach parties. A few times, I’ve hooked up with some bi players, always two, never just one, or hearts get broken—theirs, not mine.
But even that was months ago.
Those last two Rose mentioned? I picked them up at the club the first time I followed Axel there, and we went back to my apartment. They were hot, and I’d finally scored the holy grail of dicks; a big pierced one. But I didn’t join them. Oddly, it didn’t feel right. I just watched them while all I could think about …was Axel?
It surprised me.
And scared me.
The thought of Axel aroused me more than those men sharing one hot and beautiful coupling.