Page 35 of East

If you can call it that.

I barely slept.

I tossed and turned all night, unable to purge the image of Wick and Thea fucking. Him digging his filthy black nails into her flesh, kissing her with cigarette breath, ogling her like a fucking hyena as he peeled that skintight dress off her…

When I did fall asleep, the visuals became real. Suddenly they were in my bed humping like bunnies. I woke up in a cold sweat.

So yeah, I didn’t sleep much. Two hours total if I’m lucky.

I rub my eyes, stretch my arms over my head as I let out a lionlike yawn.

Coffee.

I’m going to need about a gallon of it.

I don a pair of slippers and head to the kitchen. I always grind my coffee beans fresh. It tastes so much better than the pre-ground stuff.

I shovel a portion of beans into the grinder, pulverize them, and then place them in my French press. I pour hot water from an electric kettle over them, let them steep for a few minutes, and then plunge the mesh filter to the bottom to get rid of all the grounds. I pour the whole thing into a mug shaped like a hot-air balloon.

A little whimsical for my taste, but it was a gift from Tim.

Tim got me hooked on the French press too. I had one stuffed into the back of a cupboard—an old Christmas present—and he found it when he was staying with me a year or so after he got the job at Jade. I was blown away at how much more flavorful the coffee was compared to the coffeemaker. Since then, I’ve exclusively used the press.

Now Tim is gone, but the French press is still here.

God…

I shake my head. I can’t think about Tim on only two hours of sleep. I turn on the TV in the living room to distract myself.

I turn around to grab my balloon mug when a familiar voice snakes into my ear.

“We’re looking at a high-pressure system moving in this weekend, bringing mostly sunny skies and warming temperatures, though a cold front could bring in some scattered showers Sunday afternoon…”

I nearly drop my mug.

I turn around to confirm the voice is who I think it is, but I don’t need to.

Thea goddamned Storm, giving the weather report like she didn’t just waltz into my life and destroy it all in one fell swoop last night.

Her makeup is impeccable, and her hair is pulled back in a neat bun. Purple pantsuit with an off-white blouse. Much more modest than that sexy-ass gingham number she had on last night, but she still looks hot as hell.

I crinkle my forehead. I don’t normally watch her news station, ChicagO2. I stopped watching the news altogether a few years ago. Too depressing. But I must have accidentally flipped to it when I turned the TV on.

Is the universe giving me a sign? Maybe that half-baked plan I cooked up with Nora last night will actually work.

I sit down on my leather couch across from the TV, sipping my coffee as I watch Thea’s weather report.

She’s not saying anything particularly exciting. Warm weather this weekend and then cooling a bit later. Typical for this time of year, early spring.

But she’s mesmerizing. Those beautiful lips, her long eyelashes, her boobs that won’t quit…

Damn. Damn damn damn.

I’ll be tuning in every morning.

The news is live. So she’s not with Wick right now. Her hair is kempt, her makeup clean. She either has a fantastic prep team or she didn’t spend the night with Wick. Hard to tell through a TV broadcast.

I’m still going to shoot my shot with her. Wick be damned.