Page 17

Chapter Seventeen

Mikah

As soon as I hit my pillow, I’m out. I wake up three hours later, groggy as hell.

Stress always gets to me this way: draining me and stealing all my energy physically but especially mentally. Zach swears it’s depression, but I try to explain it isn’t. I don’t feel depressed, I’m just overwhelmed. I get tired and want to sleep. Probably because my brain knows it’s the only time I’m not stressed. It shuts down and doesn’t have to spend energy worrying about everything. I hate that I’m like this. I truly wish things were different.

I wish I hadn’t grown up the way I did and that it didn’t cause so much trauma that all I can do as an adult is worry it’ll all come back. I live in fear, each and every day, that my life will go back to how it was. Trailer that’s falling apart. Roaches. Ants. No food. No electricity. Don’t even get me started on the shit my mother caused over being verbally and physically abusive .

And even though I’ve done everything I can to make sure I don’t go back to that life; it’s still a fear. Especially after I got so damn close to it. I’m not sure I’ll ever change. I’m always going to be like this. My mother royally fucked me up, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.

But there are ways I can feel better…

If only they didn’t have to do with the sexy, arrogant neighbor I can’t stand.

Or couldn’t stand, because he’s growing on me.

Fuck off, he’s growing on me.

The last thing I need is to rely on someone to make me feel better—to fix me. I don’t need anyone to fix me. I’ve learned to live with my shit, and I was perfectly fine until he came into the picture. But I can’t help but want more of what he has to give. A taste of freedom from my own mind? That’s dangerously addicting. And it’s why I reach for my phone, open our text thread, and send him a text.

Me: I’m awake.

Asshole Neighbor: That wasn’t a nap. It was a sleep.

Me: It was a terrible idea, is what it was.

Asshole Neighbor: Didn’t help?

Why does he have to be like this? Why can’t he just be the jerk I thought he was? Why is he doing everything to prove me wrong?

Me: Not at all.

Asshole Neighbor: Sounds like you need a drink.

Me: I think what I need is to go back to sleep .

Asshole Neighbor: Wrong. What you need to do is get up, shower, dress nicely, and meet me at my place. We’re going out.

Oh no. The last thing I need to do right now is go out.

Me: I’m not in the mood to deal with people.

Asshole Neighbor: Good thing it’ll just be us then. I expect you here in an hour.

He makes it really difficult to say no. At first, arguing with him was simple. Now? I just want to do what he says because I know how it makes me feel. Better than I’ve ever felt before.

Me: Fine.

Calculating how much time it’ll take to get ready, I figure I have at least twenty more minutes to lounge around and do nothing. So that’s what I do. When my time is up, I get up, shower, and spend way too long figuring out what to wear.

Me: When you said “dress nice” … how nice are we talking?

Asshole Neighbor: I’ll ignore the fact you should be here in five minutes.

The text that comes in after that is an image.

“Fuck,” I breathe out when I open it up. It’s a photo he took of himself in the mirror with that sexy smirk on his lips. He’s in a blue suit and a white shirt with the top few buttons open. So, fancy but casual?

Taking a page from his book, I go for my blue suit, too. Only mine is plaid and comes with a vest that I won’t wear tonight because it feels like too much. It’s a good thing I asked because I’d been looking at khakis and sweaters.

I ignore my phone that’s blowing up with texts, having a feeling it’s him because I’m officially late. Don’t care. I spend time getting ready, fixing my hair just right, and even spritz on some cologne, which I don’t typically do.

Why the hell am I doing this?

When I’m finished, I head into the bathroom to get a better look.

Well, damn. When’s the last time I looked this good? It’s been a while.

Making sure I have everything I need—phone, wallet, keys—I put down some food for CP and head out the door.

The walk to the house on the side of mine is getting way too familiar. I do it too often.

I raise my hand to ring the bell, but the door is pulled open, causing me to look up.

Dominic chews on his bottom lip as he takes me in, slowly raking his eyes from my feet all the way to my face. The heat in his gaze has my skin growing hot, and I shift on my feet, feeling… way too split open.

“You look… fuck,” he nearly growls. He steps outside, closing his door, and hurries down the stairs. “If you don’t get your ass down here, we won’t be leaving anytime soon,” he calls out.

I move down the steps and get into his pretentious car with a smile on my face.

“This is not what I was expecting,” I say as I look around.

The restaurant we’re at is sparkling—literally. The walls are a deep blue, the table clothes are sheer, all decorated with crystal vases and candles. The lights hanging from the ceiling are made of crystal, too, the light glimmering off everything, causing it to sparkle.

“Would you have preferred McDonald’s?”

I cringe. “I hate McDonald’s.”

“Noted.”

“Good evening, gentlemen. My name is Kyle, and I’ll be your server tonight.” The waiter is young and cheery. Too cheery for me to want to deal with today. “Can I get you started on something to drink? Perhaps a bottle of wine or some bourbon?”

“We’ll take a bottle of your most popular white, please,” Dominic says with practiced politeness.

“Certainly. I’ll be back shortly.”

I raise a brow at Dominic.

“Don’t act like you don’t like when I take control.” He reaches for his water and takes a small sip.

I do like it and that’s the problem. I can’t like it. I can’t rely on people to do things for me because that never works out. They never stay.

“So, I have some really exciting news, and I was going to wait to share it, but I can’t,” he says.

“Okay? ”

“I was invited to the MAIF awards.”

My jaw drops open. “Shut up. Are you serious?”

He’s grinning proudly and nodding.

I look around, then back at him, frowning. “Why are you sharing this with me?”

“I already called my brother to let him know. He’s the only family I have. Besides, you’re in the community, so you appreciate it more. Also… I just wanted to share this with you.” I open my mouth to ask why, again , because that wasn’t really an answer, when he adds, “And I want you to be my date.”

“Your date?”

That’s… wow.

“That’s what I said.”

“I don’t know what to say to that.”

This is kind of a big deal. Though my stuff can’t be nominated because I don’t do independent work, of course I’ve heard about the MAIF awards. Anyone in this line of work has.

“You have until the end of the night to decide.”

I can’t unpack any of that right now. Why is he sharing this with me? Why is he asking me? Doesn’t he have friends? People he’s interested in? He said he told me because I’d appreciate it more, but what about all the guys he’s made videos with over the years? He isn’t friends with any of them?

“What videos were nominated? Who were they with? Won’t it be weird taking me when you should probably take them?” I ask.

“Hm… I hadn’t thought of that. ”

“See—”

“But no. I don’t care about them. I want you to come with me.”

I take a breath before saying, “The last thing I need in my life is drama, Dominic.”

“Why would this cause drama?” he asks with a bit of a bite. “Those men are a business transaction. We had a contract. One and done. I’m sure they’ll have their own dates to take. Some of them are even in relationships.”

“I just don’t understand why things are so different with me.” I shake my head, leaning back in my chair.

“Neither do I. They just are,” he says, exasperated, which makes me feel bad.

What makes this all the more confusing is we can agree that it doesn’t make sense. How doesn’t that bother me? Doesn’t he want to make sense of it?

“Here we are,” Kyle says, putting two glasses on the table so he can open the wine, then pours us each a glass and leaves the bottle in the center. “Have we decided on meals yet? An appetizer maybe? May I suggest the seafood cakes? They are delicious.”

“They sound great, thank you,” I say flatly.

“I’ll get that started for you,” he says, then takes off.

“You can’t eat seafood cakes. You’re allergic to shellfish,” Dominic says, eying me .

“I lied.”

“What?” he snaps, hand halfway to picking up his glass of wine.

I shrug, reaching for my wine. “I lied.”

“Why the hell would you lie?”

“Because you’re way too arrogant for your own good, and I didn’t want to make things easy for you.”

I expect him to laugh and appreciate me giving him shit. But he doesn’t laugh. He just stares at me, unblinking.

“Oh, don’t tell me this is the thing that pisses you off?” I take a mouthful of wine before putting my glass down.

He shakes his head. “I don’t like lying.”

The way he says it hurts my chest. Like I’ve really upset him…

I blink a few times, then clear my throat. “I’m sorry; it was wrong. I was annoyed and not thinking clearly.”

He takes his wine, leaning back in his chair and swallowing half the glass in one go. He puts it down, folds his hands and stares at the table. I take another mouthful of my wine, because he’s being weird, and it’s messing with my head. This isn’t how he acts. He doesn’t get mad or upset about things. That’s what I do—that’s my job.

“I don’t know why things are different with you. They just are, okay?” he finally says.

“Okay.”

“I like you, Mikah,” he says slowly.

“Like me? Why in the world would you do that?” I chuckle, trying to make a joke out of it, but again he doesn’t laugh. Fuck, rough crowd tonight .

“Wasn’t really a choice,” he says, giving me a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Still handsome as hell, though. “Anyway, don’t lie to me again.”

“I won’t,” I answer quickly. “Swear.”

He finishes his wine and fills his glass before taking his menu and reading it over. I watch him for a long moment before picking up my menu and browsing it.

I shouldn’t feel so bad for lying to him. It was a stupid joke. Yeah, it was mean. I did it to make things difficult for him, but like I said, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was annoyed with him over backing me into a corner.

I built this picture of him in my head without knowing him because I didn’t agree with the way he lived his life, and instead of giving him the benefit of the doubt and trying to talk to him, I turned him into someone he wasn’t.

Now that I’m getting to know him, I realize he’s nothing like what I thought he was. I’ve had sex with this man. I’ve had his dick in my mouth and my ass… And even though it was for work, I know, deep down, there is more to it.

I’ve watched his videos. I see how he is with other people. He’s different with me. And that is scary as hell. Not only because of all the issues that I have personally, but how the fuck do two adult content creators date one another without wanting to kill the men they’re with for work?

Dinner goes by without any issues. We eat, we chat, things are calm and peaceful.

When we pull into his driveway, we both get out .

“Let me walk you to your door,” he says.

I chuckle and go with it. We split two bottles of wine at dinner, and I’m feeling it. I feel good. Light. I hardly drink, and I’m not drunk, but I’m… feeling good.

I pull my keys from my pocket and as I browse for the key I need to get into my house, I drop them. Dominic bends to get them and hands them to me. I stick the key I need into the lock, turn it, and open the door. I turn to him, taking in the way he’s watching me, almost like he’s waiting for me to freak out.

I think back to dinner. On how he wanted to share his excitement with me. Told me he liked me, which still has me feeling all giddy, like a little kid. I’ve overthought every encounter we’ve had together because I’m trying to pick apart what this is. Because that’s what I do. And of course, as usual, there is no answer for what’s going on with us.

It just is.

It’s just one of those things that don’t have an answer.

He likes me. And I like him.

I’ll admit that because of the wine. I may not admit it tomorrow… Baby steps.

“You want to come in?” I ask.

“How drunk are you?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Not drunk,” I say seriously. “Just… feeling brave, I guess.”

Dominic steps to me, putting his hand on my cheek. “Text me in the morning.” He leans in to kiss the corner of my lips, and then he’s gone.