I raise an eyebrow at her. “He’s at the dance with Lily. No presents today.”
“Hm. So, is his friend as rich as he is?”
My head gets stuck on his offer again. To pay for everything. My degree, my rent, every unforeseen expense covered. I could be like one of those students whose parents are wealthy enough to pick up their tab, leaving them time free to party, to network, to forge friendships deep enough that they could support me during rough times.
All in exchange for an exacerbation of my anxiety. The worry that every strange look, every second glance I get on the street, is from a voyeur.
I shake my head to clear the temptation away. “Seems like it.”
“And does he come in a feminine model so I can have a sugar mummy?”
My tongue pokes out at her before I can stop it. “He’s not my sugar daddy. He’s nothing to me.”
“Right.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Nothing. Gotcha.”
“It’s true.” I move through to the kitchen to hunt down something for dinner.
The cupboards are stuffed with dried goods, boxes of easy cook stuff, a lot of ramen noodles. My talent in the kitchen extends to me pouring boiling water on something and microwaving it for a few minutes. Anything outside of that I consider both proper cooking and something I don’t know how to do.
“Your new rich boyfriend didn’t even buy us a decent meal?”
Nothing we have in stock interests me. “I could go halves on a pizza.”
She claps her hands together like I suggested a party. “You’re on. Get the anchovies and jalapenos on my side.”
After the obligatory retching scene, I put through the order. Half a pizza and half something only Finley and the devil could eat.
“You’re working tomorrow?”
“Just the one appointment, then I’m visiting mum. What about you?”
“Geraldine wants me to take apart her carburettor and find out what keeps sticking. If you and Lily are both out, I’ll help myself to the lounge. We’ll need a lot of room.”
“Knock yourself out. If Lily’s genuinely together with Zach again, I doubt she’ll be bringing him back here.”
Finley squints her eyes. “What are you saying? This flat’s delightful.”
“If you don’t have anywhere better to be.”
She mock hits me and I move to the couch, slumping at one end, too tired to even think about the assignments I have coming due in my courses. And that’s without mentioning the group study project, something that I can’t remember if we’ve even picked a topic for yet.
Without permission, my mind returns to Trent’s visit. This time it lingers on my pulse of regret. Why didn’t he come to ask me out? I would love to strip that big body bare and find out all the ways it could please me and be pleased in return.
When the delivery guy comes to the door, I volunteer Finley to answer it. “You need to come,” she calls out while balancing the chips, garlic bread, and pizza box. “There’s something on the top step.”
I reluctantly move to the door, stepping around her and bending over, expecting the slip of paper to be a receipt or coupon that fell out of the delivery box.
But it’s another white envelope. Hand delivered.
My feet turn to ice as I stare at it, seeing the similarities to the card I received before. Stepping outside, I pick it up and open it, watching the crimson glitter fall and be tugged away by the breeze.
The same watercolour heart.
I pull out the card and open it, feeling my body shudder with each thump of my pulse.
The writing on the inside is also in a shade of red, muddier than the glitter, more reddish brown. The same as last time and, with dawning horror, I understand the ink is probably blood.
Everything winds down to a pinhole; I can barely breathe.
