You Own Me (Owned 1)

I was the toy.

The elevator doors dinged open, and, assuming it was my floor, I tried to push Steve off of me so we could exit. It wasn't my floor. Dumbass me, I had forgot to press the button for my floor; the elevator had just been sitting in the lobby.

Vic stepped through the elevator doors. I froze. Vic froze. Steve kept pawing at me like the toddler he is. I batted him away, irritated.

I swear the temperature dropped twenty degrees. Vic pressed the button for my floor and then for his. He turned and faced us, his face contorted with fury.

I stared at him, equally furious. Where does he get off? He rejected me! I was about to say as much when the doors opened. Instead of speaking my mind, I dragged Steve with me and didn't look back. I was livid, but Steve was completely oblivious.

“Hey sexy—”

Putting my hands up in a back off gesture, I interrupted Steve. “You have to go.” There is no way I can have sex with him. Not anymore. Not after seeing Vic.

“What?” he asked, his face registering the first forms of awareness all night.

“Yeah, you have to go. I'm not doing this.” I was growing more irritated with him the longer he stayed.

“Why not?” Steve asked, nearly whining.

I don't think he was mad that he wasn't going to have sex with me. No, he was mad that he'd wasted a night with a no-go. I wasn't special, I was a waste. He'd forget about me the minute he bagged another poor sap.

I ground my teeth, trying not to snap at him. “I forgot that I have to get up really early tomorrow.”

A look of pure rage rippled across Steve's features. Terror instantly seized my heart and stole my breath. I'd seen that look before: Dean. It's a look psychopaths get when they don't get what they want. It's a look crazies get when they aren't willing to let go.

Instinctually, I stepped away from Steve and pulled my cellphone out. I wasn't willing to relive Dean.

“Fine, whatever, bitch,” Steve said, his anger dissipating into resentment. Steve walked away, flipping me the bird over his shoulder.

Oh, how lovely people can be when they don't get what they want. I didn’t dare provoke him into a Dean-like rage, so instead of yelling at his retreating back (which I really wanted to do), I sagged against my door jamb and took a few deep breaths. Then, I straightened my shoulders, jutted out my chin, and went inside to cry myself to sleep.

Vic invited me to dinner at his place. I want to believe it was because of what he saw in the elevator. That is, he's jealous and wants me as much as I want him, but that's too dangerous a thought process. That road is filled with hope and romantic fantasies; keyword: fantasy. Vic and I don’t exist in reality.

What I almost did with Steve was a way to heal from Vic. Instead of thinking love, I’m thinking friendship. This dinner is an unofficial olive branch. I’ve never, ever been to his place before, after all.

I saw Zoe after I got off work. I told her I was having dinner at Vic’s that night. Mistake number one of my evening.

“Holy shit, you're have dinner at Vic's? I don’t think anyone has been to Vic’s apartment before.” Zoe was practically bouncing on her tiptoes.

I wondered why Zoe was so excited about my dinner plans. “Uh, yes.” I responded

“Nox, I may be a lesbian, but I can tell when a guy is into someone. It's the same with either gender. Vic is into you.”

“You're a lesbian?”

“Yeah. Not all lesbians are butch.” She stuck her tongue out at me.

“It's just you never wore your 'Hi my name is Zoe, and I'm a lesbian' name tag. How was I to know?”

Zoe shrugged. “It seems that being gay is still quite fascinating. Like tigers at a zoo. Tom and Claire usually bring it up. Others in the building do too. And,” Zoe added, “you don't ask much about me.”

I frowned. “Tigers at a zoo aren't that interesting.”

Zoe sighed. “Is that really the point?”

“I don't know anymore. What were we talking about?”

“You and Vic.”