Wes seemed like someone who’d done more than survived.
“I’m going to give you my number,” he said. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small notebook and pen. He scribbled down his number in messy, masculine handwriting and slid it over to me. “In case you ever need it.”
I hesitated. We weren’t allies. And something about him seemed dangerous. For all I knew, he could be one of the active members incognito, grooming me in a way I hadn’t expected.
I stared down at the paper.
“In order to win their power-tripping little games, we’re going to have to put on a show.”
There it was. He was propositioning me. I shot daggers across the table and crossed my arms in defiance.
“I’m sure there will be plenty of others who’d kill to play with you, but I cannot vouch for their safety, and I don’t know anyone in that space well enough to consider them a good judge of character.”
“Let me guess—you’re my only source of protection and chivalry in a den of snakes, and I should be grateful you’re offering to help me with your superiorkinkexperience and skillsets.”
Wes blew out a breath, laughing dryly. “Listen, I don’t expect you to instantly trust me, but I think we can help each other. We can talk boundaries and limits. We won’t do anything intense or sexual. We can figure out something that will appeal to them, gets us what we both want, and then allows us to part ways as friends.”
My head was spinning, barely understanding what the hell he was even talking about. My dutiful study of erotic literature could only take me so far, clearly. How would weplaywithout it being intense or sexual?
“I’m good, thanks. I’m not one of you, and I don’t want to be.” I got up without meeting his eyes. Outside, I gave a bewildered Hudson fifteen bucks for my drink and the food that hadn’t arrived yet.
“Hey, was he fucking with you? Do we need to get him kicked out?” Hudson asked as he passed Delilah the joint.
“No, he wasn’t bothering me. I just feel sick suddenly. Sorry guys.” I threw a wave over my shoulder as I started in the direction of home. “Enjoy the food.”
It was only when I was curled up with Inara in bed, watching reality TV, that I realized I’d left Wes’s number sitting on the table.
6
NOVA
Today, I wrote.
I wrote five hundred words of garbage, but five hundred garbage words were better than no words at all.
Or so I’d been told.
Wednesday night game night was a success, and it was our turn to host everyone on the floor of our tiny—I mean, cozy—living room. After Hudson and I said goodbye to the last lingering guest and tidied up, we sat together in the dim room and parallel played what Delilah dubbedblue light time.
Our phones illuminated our faces as we sat on opposite ends of the couch, physically close but occupying vastly different online worlds. A video played softly from Hudson’s phone, and I caught the wordsshe’s cunting on the mothership.Hudson laughed. I laughed too, because I didn’t need any context to find the snippet funny.
“I’m offended I haven’t seen a single ad from the cult,” Hudson said. “I even started whispering to my phone all of my most fucked-up fantasies so the reptilian agents who spy on me would know I was down.”
“Reptilian Agents is a great band name.”
“I think I saw them playing experimental industrial shoegaze at Baby’s All Right back in 2016.”
I snorted. “Oh yeah, they opened for Glörb.”
“Glörb sounds like they would rule Bushwick. Picture this: floor-length vinyl trench coats…”
The bit continued for another five minutes until we both lost interest and returned to our phones.
I wished I could say I was scrolling mindlessly, but the reality was even more depressing. I was still working. I posted three different book promo videos from my three different VidWave accounts. I refreshed my email, winced when I saw my Amazon sales dashboard, and then liked a post in which an author shared how her books had paid for a new house in the suburbs.
Every path is different,I reminded myself in the cheery voice of a manifestation influencer.Their success is proof my dreams are possible.
“I’m heading to bed. Goodnight, Glörb, King of Bushwick,” I said.
