“Yep.”
She let out a noise that sounded a lot like a scoff as she wandered off into the apartment, leaving the door hanging open with an unspoken invitation. I hesitated then stepped inside. The scent of her flowery shampoo clung to the air.
Pulling the door shut with a soft click, I glanced at the lock—the same one she never bothered to use. My gaze darted to the window across the room—wide-open, just like it was every other time I visited. Then my eyes landed on the stove. The clock displayed a time a few hours behind what my watch read.
She watched me with a strange expression. “Well, you’re here kind of early,” she said, running a hand self-consciously through the stray strands of hair that fell freely from the bun. “I still have to do my hair.”
I looked at my watch. “It’s six. The art showing starts in fifteen minutes. Better hurry.”
She knew how impatient I was, and she hated that about me. “The remote is on the coffee table—make yourself comfortable. I’ll be taking my time.”
Fidgeting was useless. As the minutes passed, I didn’t bother using the remote. Instead I wandered the room looking for a distraction.
On a bookshelf crammed with novels and travel guides, a photo frame held a faded picture of two younger girls, their arms wrapped around each other. It was her and Daisy, I was sure. Across the room, a record player sat nestled in a corner, a worn copy of Fleetwood Mac’s “Rumors” resting on the turntable.
After half an hour, the blow-dryer had finally shut off, but a loud noise seemed to be continuing. Only, this time, the loud noise was Rosalie.
“Hey!” she shouted. “I’m in need of your opinion!”
I turned to the door as she opened it.
“Come here, would you? We don’t have all night.”
Funny.
“Be quick,” I murmured as I took a few strides across the room, meeting her at the doorframe. Her bedroom was small, but she pulled me inside anyway.
“I’m stuck between two dresses, and since you seem to pay attention to the ones I wear, I’ll be needing your opinion.”
“Oh,” I started, but she shut me up quickly, as always.
“Here—sit,” she said, placing both her hands on my chest and forcing me to the edge of her bed. It creaked beneath my weight. I was nervous I’d break it.
What the hell was I even doing here? This felt too close. I was in her bed. How the fuck did I find myself here after taking so many precautions to avoid situations like this? How could this get worse for me?
I ran a hand over the back of my neck, trying to ignore the tightening knot there. “I ...” I began, but I stopped when she wandered into her closet. Why was I even agreeing to this?
“Did you say something?” I heard her muffled voice yell.
“Nope.”
This whole night was ridiculous. Sean was supposed to be here. Sean, her actual ... whatever he was to her. Not me. I was just the poor guy caught in his place, the extra set of hands. Except now I wasn’t just a set of hands. I was sitting here, in her room, on her bed, while she picked out a dress for me to ... what, approve of?
Her closet door was barely cracked, but every now and then I’d catch a glimpse of her moving, pulling hangers aside. She wasn’t wearing a towel anymore.
Jesus.
I glanced around the room, trying to ground myself in something—anything—else. I shouldn’t be here. Should never have agreed to this.
I didn’t trust myself near Rosalie.
She was my kryptonite. She made logic take a flying leap out the nearest window. Responsibility and restraint were foreign concepts to me when she was near. When I was with her, all rational thought was replaced by something far more controlling. She made me irresponsible.Reckless.She made me stupid, and stupid was a terrible place to be.
Keeping my mouth shut was my only option. Rosalie had been a constant thorn in my side—still, which was annoying—but what was even more annoying was how easily she could manipulate people. With just a smile and a few well-placed words, she could get anyone to do her bidding. Grown men fell over themselves just to please her. It was sickening, really, and very unfortunate for me, considering I, too, was one of those grown men.
I was no better than the desire that gnawed at me, feeding on my every thought.
“Option one,” she said, stepping out in a dress. It was modest, which I liked, but I also liked seeing her skin. I liked the latter more, and I was sure other men did too.
