I brush past him and shove open the stairwell door.
It’s dank and dim, the walls scuffed, the air stale. Threadbare carpet lines the steps. I take them two at a time, barely touching the railing.
He follows.
I can hear him behind me, protesting with every step, but I barely register it. I’m too focused on my plan. On the venom pumping through my veins.
Because this isn’t just about Marco.
It’s about all those years in high school and college. All the terrible boyfriends who forgot my birthday. Forgot I was allergic to peanuts. Forgot that I liked tea more than coffee.
Meanwhile, I memorized the names of their favorite aunts. Listened to their terrible music. Let them have sex with me even though they couldn’t find my G-spot if it had a flashing neon sign pointing to it.
It got so bad I gave up. Swore off men entirely for the past two years.
Marco wasn’t just some random guy.
He was me trying again.
Putting myself out there, only to get smacked down like a mosquito on a hot summer night, annoying, disposable, forgotten the second it’s gone.
I should’ve known better.
I shouldn’t have let myself hope.
Chapter 2
A Concerned Neighbor
Damian
I explain, calmly, reasonably, repeatedly, why this is a bad idea. I avoid specifics. I avoid panic. I don’t tell herwhyit’s unsafe, because I can’t.
She doesn’t hear a word of it.
Within minutes, we’re in the small underground garage where her beat-up two-door sedan waits. She yanks the driver’s door open with a protesting creak and slides behind the wheel.
I move to the passenger side and open that door too.
That finally gets her attention.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demands, brows drawn into a sharp V, hands landing on her hips.
I drop into the seat and cross my arms. Settle in.
“If you insist on going,” I say evenly, “I’m coming with you. It’s not safe.”
I match her glare with one of my own. Calm. Immovable.
“Wh—what?” she sputters. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
I lift my chin, composed to the point of absurdity. “A concerned neighbor.”
Her jaw tightens. “Get out of my car.”
“No.”
“Get out now.”
