“I’m looking for someone.”
“Who?” he asks.
How do I tell him I’ve been fucking a stranger, and this seemed like the best event to find them at?
Lie.
Because there’s no fucking way I’m admitting that. I’ll just use a play on words for the man I’m looking for.
“Batman, obviously,” I say laughing it off. I always wondered if he chose Wayne for Bruce Wayne and having a secret identity. I take a sip of my glass and look up to see Lincoln’s face covered in shock.
“What did you just say?” he says, his mouth slack as he stares at me.
“Nothing, it’s stupid. Just let me have this night and I’ll be out of your hair.”
I can see the vein in his neck pulsing, and I squint at him. I swear to God he starts fucking sweating and… no.
There’s no fucking way.
“Oh fuck,” I whisper under my breath, and he just blinks at me, his eyes wide with realization.
I go to walk past him and he just stands there, lost in his own thoughts.
My heart is thumping so fast in my chest it feels like it might just rip out of my chest onto the floor as I try to breathe as I quickly walk out of Avalon.
No. No. No.
There’s no fucking way, my stranger. The man I let fuck me through a wall, the one I’ve been fantasizing about endlessly, is my cousin. I rip the mask off of my face as my heels click against the marble.
My mind is a mess as I race my way out of the building. I forget about my keys and phone as I push through the heavy front doors and walk along the curb.
He didn’t say anything verbally, but his face said everything he couldn’t.
Lincoln is my Mr. Wayne.
My heel snags on one of Florida’s fine fucked-up pieces of sidewalk and I sag against the side of the building as I try to slow my frantic breathing.
In a series of wrong turns and men who are bad for me, this is my ultimate success at being a failure.
I’ve been endlessly thinking of a faceless man who happens to be my adopted cousin—who hates me.
I fucked Linc.
My breathing gets even more panicked and I feel like I’m dying. I’m having a heart attack at the ripe age of twenty-nine.
I want to rip off the slutty dress I wore to impress a man who’s known me my entire life.
Tears stream down my face, and I hold on to the wall for support.
Rock meet bottom.
A hand touches my back and I still for a moment. But it’s a soothing touch as their large palm circles my back.
“Just breathe,” Lincoln says, and I try, but hearing his voice just makes me panic even more.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “Don’t move. I’m getting your purse and shit.”
His voice is calm, controlled, maybe even unaffected.
