Gabe is rubbing Torren’s head, while Torren glares at him, cursing under his breath.
I make a show of clearing my throat, and Torren looks at me again with eyes the size of flying saucers. “Really? You had to witness that?” he laments. “Jesus Fuck. What is it?” he barks at me.
“Hey! Don’t talk to me like that! You didn’t say a word after that night, and that’s not okay! You treat me with some respect.”
Well, so much for my gentler approach.
Torren looks like a kicked puppy. His eyes are downcast,and that sad, hopeless expression reappears on his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” I try to explain. “I’m fine. I just- I want to talk to you.”
Torren shakes his head and says, “I don’t think that’s a good—”
“Here!” I interrupt and open the pink box I’m holding to reveal the donuts. “It’s called a ‘gentler approach.” Rather than antagonizing you, I’m offering the donuts I never give you.” I bat my lashes and add, “Please, talk to me.”
Torren’s mouth falls open again when he sees the donuts. He flashes a thousand-watt smile that I don’t think I’ve ever seen on him. “I’ve been missing those,” he admits sheepishly.
“I know.” Our eyes lock, and Torren’s face softens. The link between us, this invisible tug I’ve felt since the moment I saw him, tightens.
My body aches to wrap my arms around him and cradle him in my embrace. The only human affection I’ve experienced since Mom died is our collision at theKitty Cat Club,and I am so touch-starved it hurts.
“Please,” I whisper.
That apparently does it, because I see the last of his resolve vanish. He gives me a little nod, then asks Gabriel, “Can you hold down the fort while we chat?”
Gabe, being the gem he is, gives Torren a thumbs up and me a great big smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring double chocolates, but people actually buy those,” I explain. I wanted to bring himsomething,but Torren’s dull-ass donuts were the only thing left by the time my shift ended.
Gabe waves his hand, then shoos the two of us off.
Torren rocks on his feet, rubbing his head. I can’t tell if it’s a nervous tic or if it’s still hurting from the wrench.
Probably both.
He awkwardly says, “Um…let’s go up to my place, and we’ll talk.”
“Lead the way,” I reply.
Torren
I march to the spiral staircase leading to my bedroom with Felix trailing behind. I thought, maybe, I could avoid Felix for the rest of my life, like the coward I am. But he sought me out, which means I have to push him away once and for all.
My cheeks glow red with embarrassment as I think about my room. It’s littered with beer cans, and the blackout curtains create an eerie effect.
As if I’m not scary enough.
Once I reach the top of the stairs, I flip the switch for the overhead light, revealing the shit show that is my life. I move to the side, allowing him to enter and say, “Well, here it is. In all its glory.”
Felix looks around.
My OCD usually requires that I straighten up the mess every morning, but I just haven’t been able to bring myself to do it.The filth matches my soul.
Felix scans the room, and I await his verdict, convinced he’ll dart for his bicycle and never look back. However, instead of running away, Felix points to the cans on the floor and says, “Please tell me you recycle.”
Despite having had one hell of a life, Felix seems to have a way of rendering me speechless almost every time we come in contact with one another. I stand there, trying to rememberhow to speak English, and finally reply, “Yeah, one flight below is the kitchenette. I’ve got a bin there.”
“Good,” he says as he walks to the bed and takes a seat. “So, let’s talk.”
There’s no avoiding it. I know Felix and I have had many tense moments, but I didn’t want to be cruel to him ever again after what I did at the club.
But I have to. I have to be so vile that he walks away and never looks back.
