“That’s… I don’t know what to say,” I admit.
“Then don’t say anything. Just go get ready for work,” he tells me as he takes his phone out of his pocket. “I have to make a call.”
Then he turns around, and I watch him walk through the small, empty living room, stopping at the window that leads out onto the fire escape.
Leaving him to his phone call, I head to the one bedroom and close the door. I don’t have anything in here. There’s a sleeping bag I bought when I first arrived and a couple of changes of clothes. I’m really glad Neo sent his friends away. I didn’t know how to tell him I didn’t actually have stuff to be moved.
I’m surprised he hasn’t asked about why this apartment is empty. Surely he has to wonder. I would be wondering if it were me. I just need to figure out something believable for when he does finally question it.
I’ve never been a good liar, which is why I avoid lying about anything. But I am good at coming up with half-truths. How do I tell him I’m here because I ran from a boyfriend who liked to use me as a punching bag?
It took two years for me to work up the courage to run. I was going to die in that house if I ran or not. So I finally decided dying because I tried to get out had to be better than dying because I stayed.
I quickly throw on my uniform, and then head into the small bathroom. I don’t have a lot of makeup with me, but I do have some concealer and foundation. Staples for covering bruises.
Once I’m satisfied that my face is covered as best as it can be, I style my hair into a side braid, making sure it falls over my cheek. I’ve done this more times than I can count. I’d hoped I wouldn’t ever see this version of myself again, but here we are.
At least, if he finds me now, I’ve experienced something I never imagined was real. What Neo just did to my body, the way he made me feel, I honestly thought that was all a fantasy. Now Iknow it’s not and I want to feel it again. I want to experience all the things that I read about.
Is Neo that guy? The one the fairy tales teach us about?
No. I shake my head at my own reflection. I cannot just jump into bed with a guy and think he can solve all my problems for me. Or expect that of him. He’s just a man who wants to sleep with me. He wants my body, nothing more. Sure, he’s nicer about it than what I’m used to, but the outcome is the same. He will get what he wants, and then I’ll be alone again.
Which is exactly why I can’t take him up on his offer to move in with him. What would happen if he kicks me out? I’d be back to square one. At least I have a roof over my head right now. I might not have anything else, but it’s a roof. And as soon as I can get another job, I’m going to start saving and buy some furniture. I can make this place a little nicer. I just need time.
When I walk out of the bedroom, Neo’s eyes run up and down the length of my body, leaving behind a trail of goose bumps on my skin.
“I’ll call you back,” he says into the phone before pocketing it.
Then he walks over and cups my cheek, moving my hair away from my face. His jaw ticks.
Oh no, he’s mad. What did I do?
“I hate that you know how to do that,” he says in a quiet voice.
“Know how to do what?” I ask him.
“Conceal bruises on your face,” he tells me. “You should never have to do that.”
“Well, I work for tips and I don’t think customers are going to tip as well if I show up black and blue.”
“No, I meant that you should never have a bruise on you in the first place, Caitlyn.” He sighs.
“It’s not that bad.”
Chapter Fifteen
Caitlyn refused to be driven to work, telling me it was only two blocks away and she’d rather walk. So Iwalkedright alongside her, something she wasn’t impressed with either. The woman is hot and cold. She is fighting withherself to let me in. But I know I’ll win her over. There isn’t any other option.
“What are you doing?” Caitlyn asks when I follow her inside.
“I’m grabbing a coffee. This is a diner, right? You serve coffee here?” I ask her.
“Well, yeah, but probably not the kind you’d like,” she whispers.
“I’ll take my chances.” I move past her and sit at the bar top.
A waitress looks me up and down, something I’m used to. “What can I get you, handsome?” she asks.
