I didn’t have his permission. Didn’t ask for it. Didn’t wait for it. Didn’t stop until way, way, way too fucking late in the process.
Yep. Had to own that one. Even the memory had my gut churning. I was a lawyer, for fuck’s sake. If anyone understoodthe concept of consent, it would be lawyers and members of law enforcement. I might not deal in criminal law, but I’d taken the classes. Had seen up close what victimization looked like.
Malik…
Well, he hadn’t appeared victimized. In fact, he’d been the one to haul us closer together. His tongue had parried with mine. He’d thrust his erection against me. We couldn’t have been closer. Hell, we’d been downright indecent.
And I would’ve stopped in a heartbeat if he’d asked me to. If he’d shown any sign of not being into what we were doing.
You know that doesn’t matter. Try and justify it all you want…it won’t make you any less guilty.
That knowledge sat in the pit of my stomach as I considered going through a drive-through for some dinner or something. I’d eaten some yogurt and strawberries before the meeting because I hadn’t wanted to feel weighted down and I didn’t want to feel hungry either.
Now? Ravenous. Like I could masticate an entire cow all on my own. Added to the queasy feeling and everything felt off-kilter.
I locked up my bike in front of the A&W drive-through on Broadway as I considered my options. The veggie burger, of course, but then… Onion rings. I deserved a side of onion rings. I added a root beer, made it a combo, and six minutes later, I was cycling home with my meal shoved into messenger bag.
Home these days was complicated.
When I worked at BioVale, with my very lucrative corporate salary, I’d bought a nice condo in the west end. I’d enjoyed the nightlife on Davie Street. I’d driven a nice car. I’d also donated to charities and had supported friends who were involved in politics and social justice. Hands-off, though. I couldn’t risk my job.
I rolled my eyes as I locked my bike to the wall by my parking space in my Mount Pleasant condo. I jogged up to the third floor and let myself into my rather tiny unit. Sighing, I dropped my keys onto my little table in the front hall. I toed off my shoes and headed to my high-top table. I eased myself onto a bar stool as Moses leapt up to join me. “Shoo.”
He plopped down on the stool across from me and eyed me.
“Onions are bad for cats.” I sorted my drink, burger, and onion rings. “I’m not sharing.”
The cat blinked. Innocently. Then indolently.
I unwrapped the burger and tore off a sliver of the veggie goodness. “Just one bite.”
He snagged it off my finger.
I eyed the finger, decided I was too tired to get up to wash my hand, and dug into my food with relish. I hadn’t realized how tired I was until this moment.
A couple of times, Moses tried to steal more food.
In resignation, I tore off a tiny strip of lettuce and let him go to town. By the time he’d finished it, I’d polished off the burger, onion rings, and about half my root beer.
I gazed around my one-bedroom condo. I could’ve fit two of these into my old place in the west end. With room to spare. I’d also been on the twenty-first floor with floor-to-ceiling windows facing English Bay.
Here? Third floor—the top—with a nice view of the back alley and the building behind us. I had acasual waverelationship with the neighbor behind me. At least her unit faced south and got some semblance of sun. Mine faced north and was in darkness all day.
That said, when I had the migraines, I was happy to shut my blackout blinds, crawl into bed, and pray for death.
Huh.
I’d been okay today. Given how rough the last few days had been, that was saying something.
Moses eyed me.
I balled up my wrappers, put them in the paper bag, and tossed it into the recycling bin.
Well, attempted to. The shot—which was only a few feet—went long.
Moses leapt from his stool and tore across the condo. Clearly, he’d decided the paper bag was a new version of a ball, and he intended to have fun with it. Either that, or he was going to try to suck the residual grease from the paper. Not possible and, uh, gross.
Entirely something a cat would do.
