“Thought they weren’t your cat.”
Ro smirks and the cat, Kahlo apparently, presses into his palm. I narrow my eyes, a daring thread of betrayal stinging my chest.
“Fine, they’re my cat.”
I jerk my shirt over my head and search for my shorts before remembering Ro literally tore them off of me. Arousal zings between my legs at the memory and I huff. Too many emotions.
“I can’t believe you ruined my shorts.”
Ro stands and picks up his own shirt. “I can buy you a new pair, if you want.”
He’s still smirking. A proud, crooked tilt to his lips. He can’t tell how much that turned me on, can he? I glance down at my hard nipples and wrinkle my nose. He probably can.
I slip past him, aiming for the kitchen for some water as he meanders after me. I need to cool down and get a grip on this situation. Mostly, I need to get Ro out of my apartment so I can process what exactly just happened. And figure out how to eliminate the desire to do it again… That was supposed to get it out of my system, so why do I want him even more now?
“Come on, Kahlo.” Ro sits on the couch and pats his leg, and the cat comes trotting down the hallway to jump up on his lap.
Ro grins in delight, then turns his happy face up to me.
“Looks like you have a cat named Kahlo now.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. It’s impossible to be grumpy around Ro, he’s just so goddamn cheerful about everything. I give in and let one side of my mouth tip up in response.
“I guess I do.”
The days pass muchthe same after that, minus the mind blowing sex. I ignore the urge to jump on Ro’s dick every time he shows up unannounced, and every time he follows me on his bike, and every time he grins at me from behind the bar.
All of which only serves to make me more and more cranky.
Ro seems perfectly happy to just be around me, and I can’t tell if he truly feels that way, or if he still feels the tension between us, too. I hate thinking that it might just be me, but I need to remember this distance is for the best.
He’s toogoodto get caught up in the dark underworld that is my life.
I’m currently sitting on my bed, reminding myself why a relationship is a bad idea, and it’s really putting a damper on my already abysmal mood. I’m flipping through my grandmother’s journal, reading about her experience as a star-chaser. She died at fifty, when my mom, Renée, was only twenty-two. My mom had me later that same year, so I never met my grandmother. As usual in our family, the men are absent, so there are no known fathers or grandfathers in my history.
My grandma’s journal entries are depressing but enlightening, and they’re a good reminder of what my future holds. Eventual madness, insanity, losing my mind… Whatever you want to call it.
I used to hope there was a way to avoid it, but I’ve given up on that childish dream. It’s one of the only things my mom was consistent on. She may not have really been there for me growing up, constantly moving us around and using drugs to cope with her curse, but she was adamant about this.
All Seren’s go mad.
We also tend to die young, and the thought lights a brief flare of concern for my mom. She’s fifty-one this year, and I haven’t heard from her in months. That’s not unusual for us, though, so I hope she’s alright. As alright as any of the women in our family can be, anyway.
I’m flipping through the pages, skimming the later journal entries that get progressively more indecipherable as the madness sets in, when Ro’s signature cheerful knock sounds onmy door. A quick double tap, pause, single knock, pause, double tap.
I flip the journal closed, letting it slide from my lap as I stand to let him in. Kahlo comes running down the hallway after me, and I roll my eyes at the little beast. The traitor definitely likes him better than me. I open the door, my chest feeling lighter as soon as Ro bounces into my apartment.
“Hey, Starfire,” he says, and my face heats at the strange endearment. Then he turns to the cat. “Kahlo!”
He drops to the floor and Kahlo instantly starts purring, rubbing their chin along Ro’s arm and knee.
I close the door behind him and turn to the kitchen, then stare at my too-empty pantry. I don’t have many options, but I haven’t eaten yet today, so I need something. Ro wanders up behind me and drops his chin on my shoulder. His breath feathers over my neck, and I suppress a shiver.
“Oooh, mac and cheese!” he says. “I haven’t had that in ages.”
Ro reaches around, one arm on either side of my body as he leans into my back to rummage through the pantry. His warmth sinks into me, and I’ve never been so aware of the contrast as my muscles turn to jelly while my nerves alight against him. Ro pulls the box of macaroni from the cupboard, then starts opening and closing others as if he hasn’t already explored every inch of my kitchen and doesn’t know exactly where my single pot is.
I put my hands on my hips and wait. Sure enough, he glances at me, mischief dancing in his eyes as he pulls open another incorrect cupboard.
