Spawn
What the fuck was the point of all of that?
I wanted to believe Melissa was just having a moment this morning, like the shock of everything from last night was so much that it forced some sort of backlash. I wanted to believe that by this afternoon, she’d realize that she would want this to move forward. I wanted to believe that I had steady pussy and, well, I guess more importantly, someone I cared about by my side.
But fucking hell.
That conversation this morning brought back a lot of ugly flashbacks to how things ended. At least Melissa had been more forthcoming than before, but did all those years apart and all the time from when we first saw each other to last night not give that girl enough time to figure out how she’d handle a situation like this? Did she not fucking learn a goddamn thing from our breakup?
I shook my head as I looked out the window and saw the Uber picking her up. She looked flustered and sad. What did she expect, me to hug her and sing kumbaya so her soul would settle down?
Jesus.
“One shot,” I muttered to myself as I turned away.
That’s what I was giving her. She was going to have one chance to prove that she wanted to go further in this and not just string things along. If she shat on that one chance, if she said she needed more time, if she did anything other than enthusiastically commit to the idea of us being a thing…then I was done. I didn’t…
I fucking didn’t want to get hurt and burned again like that last time.
It didn’t feel great to put that sort of limitation on things anymore, but fuck if I cared. I needed to protect myself and make sure I could do my damn job as SAA at the club well enough.
Which, fucking speaking of, I needed to head over there. The clubhouse didn’t open until noon on Sundays, but all the same, it was a nice space for me. I could be my fucking self and not have to deal with petty girl drama like this. I checked out the window to makes sure Melissa’s Uber was gone, got my shit together, and hopped on my bike.
It felt a bit odd doing it solo after last night, but if nothing else, at least my dick had gotten off like it hadn’t in quite some fucking time.
* * *
When I arrived at the clubhouse, I was surprised to see Satan and Sonny already standing there. Satan looked hungover. Sonny looked like he hadn’t gone out the night before. I nodded to both, and both nodded back to me.
Satan might have still been pissed at me, but at least he wasn’t taking his fucking anger out on me anymore. Like men, we’d moved past our mistake quickly.
“The Black Reapers are coming,” Sonny said. “Apparently, they’re willing to let us fight without being under their banner.”
“Well, that’s comforting,” I said. “I was afraid we’d have a war on both sides.”
I hoped that my words came across sarcastically enough.
“The Black Reapers know well enough not to fuck with us,” Satan said, who apparently did not get the memo. “It’s the King’s Men who may yet suffer because their master was too dense to realize coming after us would be fucking stupid.”
I agreed, though I had my concerns that Satan was underestimating King. Nevertheless, it wasn’t my place to argue, and so I grabbed a beer, sat on a nearby chair, and leaned back in silence.
“So, did you fuck her?”
So much for silence. I sat up and looked at Satan, who had a shit-eating grin on his face.
“What do you think?”
“I saw you two trying to hump it out on the dance floor. Hailey was so fucking excited, it was hysterical. I just told her you were two horny adults going at it, but she said it meant much more.”
Maybe it did. Guess time will tell.
“I think you can take an educated guess on that one,” I said, which drew a bellowing laugh from Satan.
“Nothing like going through the recycling bin for a good time, eh?”
“She’s not fucking recycling,” I said in a much stronger tone than I had anticipated. “She’s changed. I don’t know if it means anything, but that’s not the same Melissa.”
Satan, taken aback by my words, just nodded.
