I get into bed, putting the phone on the bedside table, checking it for what feels like the hundredth time. Reaching for the remote and turning on the television, I flip through until I get to SportsCenter and see a recap of all the games. I’m half listening to them recap one of the games and all I can do is think about her. Picture her here with me.
I don’t even know what I’m doing as I move across the room, getting out of bed and heading back into my closet and opening the drawer to take out a T-shirt. I slip on my slides and walk over to the dresser, where I snatch up the keys and my wallet. I give myself a chance to think deeper about I’m doing before I’m pulling out of the driveway. I make my way over to her house and see there is no car in the driveway, which means dickhead isn’t there. But there are no lights on at all, which could also mean she’s not fucking home and she’s with him.
The thought makes me grip the steering wheel even harder before I get out and shut the door. “Are you just going to show up at her fucking door?” I ask myself as I walk up the pathway to the house. “Yes,” I mumble to myself, “Yes, I fucking am.” I hold up my hand and knock on the door.
I put my hands out to hold onto the side of the door and listen to hear if I can hear anything. I look down at the cement and then up when I knock again, this time a bit harder than I did before.
I take out my phone and pull up her number again, calling her. It rings once and then I’m sent straight to voicemail. I hang up the phone when I see light coming from the side of the door, and I take a step back. My heart feels like it’s coming out of my chest. Half of my head is screaming at me that this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, while the other half is telling me this is what I should do.
“Who is it?” she asks.
“You know damn well who it is,” I bark out, my voice a bit louder than I want it to be.
“Say your name,” she demands, and I put my hands on my hips.
“Victoria,” I say her name between clenched teeth.
“Is that your name?” I hear her voice through the door. “You don’t sound like a Victoria.”
“Open the door,” I snap.
“No,” she retorts. “This is very much like Little Red Riding Hood and when she opened the door to her grandmother’s house the wolf was there to eat her.”
“This woman is going to,” I mumble. “You know who it is, so open the door.”
“Sounds like what a wolf would say,” she singsongs, and I pull up her number on my phone and call her again. I’m expecting it to go to voicemail but then I hear her answer.
“Hello,” she practically sings it out.
“This isn’t funny.” I grip the phone in my hand. “Open the fucking door.”
“No, you would be wrong,” she snaps. “This is very, very funny.”
“Would you please open the door?” My voice is low and tight. “I’m not leaving until you open the door.” I look down at the phone when I hear the dead signal and see she hung up on me. “I’m not leaving,” I tell the door, “so you are eventually going to have to open the door.”
“Ugh,” she groans, “fine.” I hear the locks click open. “But only because I don’t want my neighbors to call the cops and then you end up in jail for disturbing the peace.” The door slowly opens and she’s standing in front of me wearing a black silk robe that is loosely tied around her waist. “Oh, it’s you. This is a surprise.” She cocks her hip. “Not a nice surprise though.”
“Are you not going to invite me in?” I ask her and she shakes her head.
“I was not going to invite you in.” She folds her arms over her chest, and when the robe opens in the front giving me a peek at her lace bra, I feel myself pulled further into her orbit. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you,” I reply and even I don’t believe what I’m doing here. Her eyebrows go up. “Are you alone?”
“No,” she snaps, and my heart sinks to my ass, “I’m throwing a party obviously.”
“Is he here?” I hiss out at her.
“No.” She glares at me. “You just missed him.”
“Did you let him touch you?” I growl out and she glares at me.
“It’s none of your business. You made it none of your business when you let me walk away from you. Again.” Her voice goes louder now and she’s angry. “What I do is none of your—” She stops talking but only because I storm into the house and she moves back.
“That is where you’re wrong,” I hiss. “When it comes to you, it’s my fucking business.”
thirteen
Victoria
