No.
No thinking of the past.
I tapped on my puzzle game. It occupied me and prevented me from ogling strangers.
Brakes screeched, and I grabbed the rail.
The movement reminded me of the slow-burning need—the one that never fully retreated, no matter where I was in my cycle or what the lunar phase was. I went to my general practitioner, only to be prescribed an antidepressant that lowered my libido.
It did, but it also made me feel sluggish, and after the first six weeks, I gave the pills up. They made me feel like more of a loser than I already was.
Another three stops.
Then the blue line.
Home.
There was no escaping my parents.
My mum wouldn’t let me eat in my room. Hell, they wouldn’t even let me close my bedroom door, telling me it was for my own good. The only privacy I had was in my bathroom—but if my mum was home, she’d time my visits.
The man standing in front of me moved, drawing my eyes back to where they shouldn’t be.
No wonder I was constantly exhausted.
But I rubbed my thighs and breathed slowly until I felt the lace and silkiness of my hold-ups.
If I raised my skirt a little higher, I might feel the contrast of cool air when the doors opened.
I never left the house without panty liners. They helped keep me dry, but showering twice a day was the only way to really cool off.
The carriage began to empty, and a few more people stepped on. It wasn’t as busy, and now I could see them properly.
It was bad.
Real bad.
Two men sat opposite me, with an older woman between them.
One of the men had a prominent outline between his legs.
I blamed God.
Why did men need to sit with their legs spread open?
Because their reproductive organs hung outside their bodies like a design flaw.
Even with nature’s warning, men still seemed determined to cram them into tight little pants. Men were allowed to let it all hang out without consequence—unlike women. Or women like me.
Heat rose high in my cheeks, and I unbuttoned my jacket. It didn’t help, considering I dressed like a nun on the outside.
I should wear trousers tomorrow.
Chapter 2
Stella
The muffled sound of the crowd seeped out of the house, a low hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. I sighed, remembering the dinner party—or soirée, as my mother liked to call it. It was tonight.
