Chapter 3

3

Iwince the moment I roll over and the side of my face hits the pillow. Awareness seeps back in, and I let out a groan, stretching my arms above my aching head.

"Oh good, you're awake," Drea coos, the bed dipping as she props herself on her elbows beside me and scrolls on her phone. "How's your head, babe?"

"Mhm, ibuprofen. I need ibuprofen," I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. I should have taken some before going to bed, but damn, I was in such a blissed-out haze last night, I didn't feel a thing. My body was exhausted in the most delicious way and I was fast asleep the moment I slid between the sheets.

Drea shifts, pulling a white bottle from her shorts pocket and handing it over. "Figured as much."

Popping the lid off, I shake out the little red tablets. "You're a lifesaver."

"And you're a brunch buyer."

"Yeah, yeah, you know my password." I motion to my phone on the nightstand as I lean over to swipe the bottle of water from beside it, wincing at the ache between my thighs with the movement.

When I made it back down to the party last night, everyone was already packing up to leave. Drea and the dude with the man bun noticed the bandaid on my forehead immediately, and after a lot of reassurance that I was fine and a promise that I'd explain everything in the morning over brunch- my treat- she backed off.

Drea peruses the food delivery app on my phone, mumbling to herself about how good everything on the menu looks, while I toss back the blankets and pad off to take a shower.

I don't mean to shower as long as I do, but once I get out of bed, the ache between my legs only intensifies, proving that last night was not a concussed fantasy or hyper-realistic wet dream. The steady spray of warm water relaxes my muscles, the memories of my masked mystery man flooding in while I give myself a little self-care.

"And you didn't even get his name?" Drea asks between bites of her French toast. The food arrived shortly after I got out of the shower, and by the time I threw on clothes and toweled off my hair, Drea had everything set out for us.

"Nope! He's… an enigma," I say, taking another sip of my vanilla latte and reaching for a piece of bacon. "A sexy enigma."

We've been slowly grazing on assorted containers of brunch food from OHOP - the original house of pancakes, none of that chain bullshit here- for the last hour while I spill the tea about my earth-shattering hookup last night.

Drea lifts a brow, eyeing me suspiciously while she chews. "And you're totally okay with a random hookup with some masked, pierced daddy?"

Heat floods my face as I lob a packet of butter at her. "Drea!"

"What?! I mean, I'm happy for you," she shrugs. "Just didn't expect it from ‘little miss commitment'."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, well, we saw how well that turned out."

Trey was my first serious boyfriend; we'd been dating since the end of Freshman year. The fact that the sexy senior frat boy gave me all of his attention made me feel special- desired, even- but that feeling long dissolved last year when he started ditching me to go out with his friends more.

He can claim that my working all the time drove him between Stashia's legs, but he's spent a good majority of the last six months treating me like nothing more than his platonic roommate. Maybe I stayed with him longer than I should have. I could've easily left after the first time he hit me, but call it unresolved childhood trauma or some shit, I was so eager to make it work, create the family that I'd never had, that I kept convincing myself we had a future.

"Hmph, maybe I'm rubbing off on you," Drea says with a smirk.

We pick at the food a while longer, finally turning on some trashy reality dating series when the subject of my sexcapades comes to an end. Drea gets really into the show, even clapping for one of the couples she's 'shipped when they make it to the final rounds. I try to pay attention to all the shirtless men and steamy drama on the TV, but my mind keeps drifting to a certain six-foot-something man with dark hair and a body carved from stone, painted with tattoos and blessed by the sex gods themselves.

We finally call it for the day, but as I slide back into bed and close my eyes, all I see is the lustful gaze of hazel eyes behind a black masquerade mask staring back at me. There was an edge of danger to him that enticed me. I should have been scared after watching the way he handled Trey and ordered me around- and don't think I didn't clock the gun strapped to his ankle when he dropped his pants.

The gun wasn't the only heat he was packing.

But I wasn't scared. No, curiosity and fascination ran rampant through my system the moment he uttered his first command. I drift off to sleep with the ghost of his touch on my skin, the echo of his husky voice in my head, and the spark of excitement he offered me smoldering in my chest.

During my mid-morning coffee run on Tuesday, Cami from Vento Ventures calls with a job offer. It's not the initial one I interviewed for, but a new position that my background in forensic accounting will be well suited for. I get the e-contracts on Wednesday and can't e-sign them fast enough. Between all the excitement and the to-do list of things I need to accomplish before starting on Monday, the rest of the week flies by.

"Does this seem too slutty for an office?" I ask, stepping out of the dressing room in a silk dark maroon blouse and black pencil skirt with a slit up the back.

"Definitely not, you look gorgeous!" Drea reassures, looking up from her phone.

"Okay, good." I twist again in front of the mirror. "There's just something I like about skirts for work that makes me feel sexy and professional."

It may not be as thrilling of an adventure as last weekend, but spending Saturday afternoon at the mall with my best friend for some retail therapy still beats cleaning up an apartment and sitting around by myself.

I still need to go back and get more of my things, but I want to make sure Trey is at work when I do. I don't want to deal with him again.

After finishing up our shopping, we pull into a poorly lit parking lot off of South Racine that looks more than a little sketchy, but the food at Windy Wok's is good enough to risk safety for. I never would've discovered this place if it wasn't for the bar Trey works at, Tapped Out, being two doors down.

"You sure you want to divide and conquer? I don't mind walking down with you." Drea eyes me as she bumps the passenger door of my Honda shut with her hip.

"It's fine," I say, locking the car behind me and looping my arm with hers as we cross the street.

"I'm just going to peek in the window to make sure he's working and I'll meet you right back here."

"Mmkay, but scream if you need me."

"I won't, but thanks," I say, giving her a playful shove and splitting off from her to head in the opposite direction down the sidewalk. "Oh and grab some extra sweet and sour!" I call out over my shoulder.

The glass picture window of Tapped Out is tinted, and with the dark interior, it's kinda hard to see who's behind the bar from the front. I keep walking around the corner to the door on the side that leads in by the bathroom. I'll just sneak in, grab a look, and be out before Trey or his douchebag friends can see me. Or at least that's what I plan to do before I step inside.

My feet anchor in their spot and my heart slams against my ribcage as I watch Trey trade off some cash for a small plastic baggie.

God, he's on fucking drugs?! Is that why he was constantly short on helping pay for things?

I clench and unclench my fists, my throat bobbing as I stand there dumbfounded. Trey bumps knuckles with the guy, or at least I assume it's a guy- it's dark and they've got their hood up. He slips the baggie into his jeans pocket as he nods and pivots back toward the door. His face is swollen, deep purple bruises rimming his eyes when he spots me.

The weight of his pensive glare sends a shiver up my spine. Shit, shit, shit! I need to get out of here.

"Wren? What are you doing here?" His voice is low, words punctuated with annoyance as he paces towards me. Everything about his stance right now screams 'not friendly, not friendly', so I don't even try to answer. I turn heel and run.

"Wren!" he growls. I don't know if he's angry about the breakup, last weekend, or me witnessing what I just did, but I do know I'm not about to stop to find out.

Drea is standing on the sidewalk, the takeout bag braced on her hip while she looks down at her phone when I round the front of the building. Her eyes dart up when she hears my Birks slapping against the concrete.

I grab Drea by the arm as I glance over my shoulder. "Wha-" she starts as I practically drag her back to the car.

"Let's go! I'll explain in the car."

I give Drea the abridged version of what happened as I drive straight to Trey's apartment and fill every suitcase I can find. All the while, I'm looking over my shoulder, anxious that he might turn up.

Working in tandem, we empty the dresser and closet in no time. Drea takes the two big suitcases down to the car while I make one last quick sweep of the place. I snag my charger from the nightstand, grab my favorite coffee mug from the kitchen- because yes, it really does matter what mug you drink your coffee from- drop my key on the hook, and head down to the car.

"Alright, I think that's it," I breathe out, the license plate rattling as I slam the trunk shut. "Let's get outta here."

The little bit of guilt I've been holding onto for my less than 48-hour rebound hookup fades away as I slide into the driver's seat and head toward Pilsen.

"Good," Drea mutters, flipping the building off, "and good riddance."