Page 9

SEVEN

DAYNA

I wake with my brain trying to drill out of my eye socket. I didn’t think I drank that much last night, but I barely manage to pry open one lid before I’m hit with a kaleidoscope of pain.

I pull my pillow over my head, letting out an unholy sounding groan. I have to stop doing this. I’m going to drink through my liver and my sanity before I reach twenty-five.

At least I woke up in my own bed.

That doesn’t always happen.

Why did I even pick up that horrible man?

Because you hate yourself and you’re trying to punish your existence with emotionally unavailable men who are only interested in fucking you.

I swing out of my bed, gripping the edge of the mattress like it can tether me to a different truth.

This self-destruction is going to end badly.

My phone buzzes. It’s a message from Katie, saying she’s on her way over. Balls. I forgot she was having coffee with me this morning.

I take the world’s quickest shower, washing the filth of last night off me. There’s not enough water on the planet to clean me, but I towel dry my hair as if I’m not a fucking disaster.

I’m just about dressed when she knocks on my door. I tug it open with a smile that does not reach any part of my fucking face other than my lips and of course, Katie sees right through my bullshit.

“Heavy night?” she asks.

I step back to let her in, patting my hair as if that’s the reason she thinks I look ruined. “You know me. A drink a day keeps the doctor away.”

Her frown holds a hint of amusement, and I walk into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

There is not enough coffee in the world to fix my hangover headache, but I can’t function on a normal day without an unhealthy dose of caffeine, let alone when I feel like I left my stomach in the bottom of a glass.

“You know, binge drinking is not a lifestyle choice, Dayna.”

“It’s only binge drinking if you do it now and again.”

Katie leans against the counter, giving me that look. The one she’s been giving me since we were running around the playground with missing teeth and pigtails. “Okay, let me rephrase—drinking yourself to death isn’t the vibe.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. I’m just…” What am I doing? “Having fun.” I wince even as I say it.

It doesn’t feel enjoyable. It feels like punishment.

“Babe, you don’t have to lie to me. I’m not your mother. I’m not Ivy. I’m sure as fuck not your therapist.”

“I don’t have a therapist.”

“Maybe you should.”

I snort a laugh. “You first.”

“I’m not the one drinking myself into repressed men with the personality of a wet sponge.”

She’s not wrong, but it stings just a little to have laid out like that. “You don’t even like men.”

“For a good reason. And also, women can be just as hard work. Relationships are just… hard .”

I hand her a coffee, clinging to my mug like a shield as I lead her into the living room. The couch squeaks as we sit, and I place a pillow over my lap, wrapping my hands around the ceramic.

Katie talks about work for a little while, and I’m half listening, my thoughts drifting to a certain biker and what I said and did last night.

He’s never going to speak to me again. His reply was so vague, so open-ended. The way he rode in like a fucking hero…

“Am I boring you?”

I snap my gaze to her. Shit. I completely zoned out. I fumble, trying to latch onto something that will make it seem like I’m not the worst friend ever.

Katie tilts her head. “Okay. Spill. Your head has been in the clouds the entire time I’ve been here. What’s going on?”

“It has not.” Lies . I’m drifting so far into the atmosphere I might as well be a fucking astronaut.

She folds her arms over her chest, giving me that look.

The one that calls out my bullshit. I roll my eyes.

“Fine. I’m a little distracted.” I fiddle with the edge of the cushion, my heart and chest tight. “I think I fucked up.”

The silence spans between us, and I don’t offer any more insight, because the words I need to say are trapped in my throat.

“Okay… um… I need you to be a little more specific than that. Are we talking missed out on a sale or need help burying the body kind of fuck-up?”

“I had sex with Dash at Ivy’s engagement party.”

“That’s not a secret, Dayna,” Katie says. “Everyone knows you and him hooked up.”

Great. I’m once again gossip and for the wrong reasons. “It’s not my proudest moment, though it is the first time I’ve ever had sex in a strip club.”

“Dayna, no one cares where you fucked him. Is that why you’re all broody?”

“I’m not broody.”

“Babe, you look like someone pissed in your cereal.”

I sigh. “I think he hates me.”

I chew my bottom lip, wishing I could stuff that vulnerability back in my mouth. Suddenly, it feels as if my chest is cracked wide open and my heart is on display. My skin itches and prickles, and I resist the urge to scratch at it.

“Babe, why do you care? It was just sex, right?”

That cuts more than it should. That mask I wear has been perfected, crafted carefully so that no one ever sees the real Dayna. I can’t be pissed that she jumps straight to the conclusion that it was just sex.

“Right,” I murmur. “Just sex.”

“Okay, so why do you think he hates you, and why do you care?”

That is a good question. Why do I care?

“I don’t.”

“Liar,” she says.

“I’m not lying.”

“You’re also not as cold as you like people to think, babe. So do you want to tell me what this is really about?”

It scares me sometimes how well she knows me.

“He kind of saved me last night.”

“From what?”

“A dick head guy who thought consent was optional and being tactile means groping.”

She looks wrecked. “Dayna. Fuck. You can’t keep putting yourself in these situations.”

“I know,” I say quietly. “Anyway, I was a little obnoxious after he saved me.”

“You like him.”

I do. And I hate that she sees that so easily. “I barely know him.” Deflect. Deny. Move on.

“You knew him enough to fuck him in a strip club, babe.”

Shame crawls over my skin. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Hey, no shame here. I don’t care who you fuck where or when. I care more why you feel you need to do it.”

Yeah, we’re not getting into that mess. “There’s not enough time for that can of issues to be opened.”

She snorts, sipping her coffee. “Fair. So, why does he hate you?”

“Because I told him he had a hero complex.” I groan, throwing my head back.

She cringes. “Oh, Dayna. You literally castrated the man without using a single blade. If that was your intention, great job.”

My stomach twists itself into a knot. There is an ugly feeling growing inside me that I don’t like. And it goes far deeper than self-hatred and loathing. It’s guilt. I hurt him, and somehow that feels worse than any punishment I’ve ever given myself.

“So I have ruined things?”

She stares at me for a beat, and I hate the way she’s peeling me open and seeing all the parts of me that I try to hide. “You do like him. I was kind of joking before, but I wasn’t wrong, was I?”

I open my mouth to deny it, but I let myself be vulnerable for just a second, just a beat. “Yeah. I like him. And that’s the problem.”

“I’m gonna need you to tell me everything that happened and then we are going to figure out a way to fix it.”

My heart soars. Even as fucked-up as I am, I have her and I have Ivy in my corner and that counts for something.

So, even though I don’t think there is a chance of putting things right, I tell her all of it.

From the way he stood between me and Mr. Grabby Hands, to how he carried me into the building and got pissy about my door lock. She listens, and when I’m done, she slides her mug onto the coffee table and sinks back into the cushions.

“Oh, babe, that man is in so deep he’s going to need a crane to lift him out of the hole he’s in.”

She’s crazy. “He looked at me like I was a naughty puppy. There was no deep. There was just a man at the end of his rope.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

I roll my eyes. “So how do I fix it? I don’t want him to hurt.”

Her eyes soften and that’s worse than anything she could say to me. She thinks this is cute.

“All’s not lost. This is salvageable, but you need to act quickly to keep him interested.”

I almost flinch at that word. I’ve never wanted to keep a single person in the world interested before.

But I want that with him.

And that’s scary.

“First of all,” she continues, oblivious to the way my thoughts are self-destructing. “Stop self-sabotaging. The man is lighting radioactive beacons saying he likes you. Believe him.”

“I told him I was a messy bitch and he replied with sleep, like I’m a fucking overtired toddler.”

I still don’t know what that meant.

“You are an overtired bitch, Dayna. But that’s not the key here. It’s the other things he did before that monosyllabic reply.”

“Staring at me like a disappointed father?”

“Babe, nothing about his actions say father. The man put you on the back of his bike wearing his hoodie and his helmet.”

I’m still wearing the former. I let the sleeves fall down over my hands like it can protect me from whatever truths Katie is about to lay on me.

“It was cold and I’ve never ridden before. He didn’t want my brain splattered on the road if I fell off.”

“He did that after standing between you and a guy who was trying to hurt you.”

“He’s a gentleman.” He most certainly is not when he fucked. He took me like he wanted to ruin me in the best ways.

“He then carried you into the building,” she continues, ignoring my protests, “got angry about the fact your security system is a load of shit, which I love him for by the way because your building might as well have a beacon saying rapists and murderers this way, and he still replied to you when you sent him a spiralling message.”

Hope surges in my chest. I shouldn’t let it blossom, but it feels good to have something.

“I thought he wanted to have sex again.”

“Well, he probably did. You’re any guy’s wet dream, babe. And the man has eyes.”

“Okay, that was weirdly sweet.”

She snorts. “I’ll give you shit in a minute. For now you need to hear me. That man likes you, Dayna, and not because you’ll fuck him. There are easier ways to get laid than what he did.”

Maybe… I don’t know anymore.

I sigh. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Whatever chance I had with him is done. I fucked up.” That ache in my chest is so painful now I can hardly breathe. I don’t want it to be done, but that’s not my choice.

This is why you don’t fall for people. Getting hurt, feeling something, it’s too much.

“Babe, you did fuck up.”

I snap my gaze to her, my eyes narrowing. “Your pep talk sucks.”

“You don’t want a pep talk. You want truth. You were a bitch. You already know that. So just message him and apologise. Make it right.”

“And what am I supposed to say? Sorry I’m such a neurotic mess? Sorry I insulted your… honour.”

She snorts. “His honour?”

“I don’t know. These bikers have weird senses of right. Look at Mace and Riot.”

“Okay, well, first off leave honour out of it and just message him like a normal human.”

There’s a boulder sitting in my gut. “I already did that last night and his response wasn’t exactly endorsing.”

Her sigh is exasperated, and I can’t even blame her for that. “Woman, just text him to collect his hoodie.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s actually a good idea, though I kind of don’t want to give it back. It’s really warm and soft.”

And it smells of him. I totally did not sleep with it like some kind of security blanket.

“The hoodie is the excuse to get him here, genius.” She flicks my forehead hard enough to leave a mark.

“Ow!” I rub at the area, scowling at her. “This tough love approach is not working for me,” I mutter.

“No, but it’s what you need. Dayna, my little muffin, my bestest friend in the entire world, you don’t need sugarcoated hand holding.

You need the truth. You like him. You pushed him away because that scares you.

And you don’t want to message him because you think he won’t come.

But honey, if Dash is smart, which I think he is, he’s already seen what the rest of us see in you and he’ll come running.

” Is the air thin in here? And why does it feel like I have a fist wrapped around my throat?

She grabs my phone, putting it in my hand. “Send the message. Take a leap. I’ll be right here to catch you if he doesn’t.”

Fuck. I lower my head to stare at the phone so I don’t have to meet her gaze. “You’re dramatic as fuck,” I mumble, even as my heart feels full.

“Yep. I get that privilege as your friend. Now, send the message.”

My fingers hover over the screen. What if I send this and he blocks me or the ghosts me, or messages back to leave him the fuck alone?

What if he decides I’m not worth the trouble?

What if I’m not.

What if…

My phone is plucked out of my hands. “Hey!” I try to snatch it back off Katie, who twists to the side so I can’t reach.

“You had enough time. I’m not sitting here while you talk yourself in circles for hours about whether you should do this or shouldn’t.” Her fingers slide over the screen. “There. It’s sent.”

She hands me the phone back, and I quickly check what she wrote. My brow climbs up my forehead. “Really? ‘You left your hoodie behind. I’m in all afternoon if you want to come and collect it?’ I would never send something that boring.”

Despite my words, relief is spreading through my chest. It’s out there and there’s a chance he’ll turn up.

I may get to see him again. I try not to think about how my pulse flutters.

“You can be more interesting in the next message you send him.” She smiles sweetly at me, then sighs.

“You deserve to be with someone who thinks you walk on water, Dayna. I don’t say this shit often, but I’m saying it now.

You’re an amazing person. Messy, sure. Certifiably unhinged, obviously.

But he would be lucky to have you. Anyone would be.

And he doesn’t seem like the usual narcissists you date.

” That’s a polite term for what I do with men.

I don’t think I’ve ever had an actual date with anyone.

“Try not to overthink it. Just have fun.”

“Having fun usually gets me into trouble.”

“Not that kind of fun,” she says. “I gotta go, but message me the moment he replies.”

“You’re a nosy cow,” I complain.

“I’ll tell this story at your wedding.”

I flinch. As if she hit me with that.

“I’m not sure fucking someone in a strip club and then stealing their hoodie is the start of a long-term relationship.”

But it’s there again. The little nugget of hope blossoming in my chest. I’m not thinking about marriage, or even beyond this week, but I’m not ready to give up Dash yet, and I hope he feels the same.