Can’t use gloves like that in the lab. They’d be torn to shreds.
“That’ll be twelve fifty,” she informs me, setting the cookies on a plate next to the mug of coffee on the counter between us. Steam floats up from the mug, a tendril of heat stretching out for me.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a handful of cash, barely looking at it. I don’t care about money. That’s Doc’s job. Even my paycheck, ostensibly paid through Sterling’s company fund for some such bullshit I’m apparently listed as doing, doesn’t mean shit to me. It’s all piling up in a bank account somewhere, all those imaginary dollars, ones and zeros, stored who the fuck knows where. None of it is real. None of it concrete.
I peel a bill away from the rest and hand it to her, ignoring the way her jaw drops as she takes it.
“W-wait! Your change!” she says, as I scoop up my purchases.
“Keep it,” I tell her. What the fuck would I do with it anyway?
I have everything I want right now. I grin down at the little rabbit cookies, stacked so nicely on their plate.
The world isn’t built for people my size. The chair I force myself into is uncomfortably small, and the table looks like I could break it if I moved too quickly. But I’m too focused on the little cookies to care.
I snap one in half and slip it into my mouth, closing my eyes as I chew. Sweet, like sugar and cream.
Just how I imagine my little rabbit will taste.
12
SYDNEY
“You’re not goingto believe this,” Jade says with a laugh, sliding the cash register drawer closed, “but that guy over there just paid with a hundred-dollar bill.”
“Did you check it?” I ask. It’s rare, but counterfeit currency does sometimes filter into our store. Paying for a small item with a big bill is usually a red flag for any small business.
“Yeah,” she says. “Tested it with the pen and everything. It’s real. But that’s not even the crazy thing, Syd. He told me to keep the change. On a twelve-dollar purchase!”
“He must have been charmed by you,” I tell her. She rolls her eyes, chuckling. “Listen, I’ll be in the back checking inventory for the next few hours, okay? Will you be all right up here on your own?”
“Oh, please. I’ll be fine,” she assures me, waving me away. “Go. Do your stock, or whatever.”
“Call me if you need anything!”
Jade gives me a salute, and I laugh, shaking my head at her as I make my way to the back of the store.
The truth is I’ve been actively avoiding going through our inventory, but I can’t put it off any longer. I used to love sorting through our new stock and setting things out, planning exactlywhere everything should go to create the best, most authentic, atmosphere. Used to love placing orders, picking out what newest books we should carry.
I liked that it was a task that gave me room to think, to lose myself in my own mind.
But…
Last night proved where my mind will wander if left to its own devices.
The memories, the lust, the sex.
But those never stick. Those thoughts always give way to their violence, their lies, their anger.
But are you any different?
Yes, I tell myself, taking new inventory from a box and slamming it down against the stockroom table a little too hard. I don’t look at the spot where Sebastian knelt to lick me, at where I’d sat on the edge of the table and let him ravage me.
I am different.
I’m not a violent person. Not anymore. I changed. I’m better now, all those dark thoughts, those angry urges, they’re gone. Now I like reality TV where the contestants bake things, I like cookies straight from the oven, and books…
Books about rough sex, that voice inside me says.
