Sloth (Sinful Secrets 1)

I feel like shit when Pace texts me. ‘I’m sorry, Kellan. Sorta stuck in the middle. Want a re-do of that shipment next week?’

I turn my phone off, feeling like the biggest asshole in Atlanta.

“Cleo, damn girl. That is cray.”

“I know, right? I hate to talk to anyone about his personal issues, but I don’t know what to do.”

“It sounds like you’re doing everything right to me. I mean, for one you’re having awesome sex. He ties you up, that is so crazy kinky sexy. It’s a once in a life time experience. And you guys are becoming close and stuff. I think it sounds like he likes you, girl. That hot chocolate thing? The vodka? I’m not surprised,” Lora says. “You’re easy to like, Cle. You’re braver than I am, riding up there with him. I’d be too scared. Serious shit stresses me out. Sounds like he’s being a little douchemonkey too.”

“He’s upset.”

“An upset douchemonkey,” Lora corrects. “But Cleo, what more can you do? There is literally no reason to worry, chica.”

“Maybe I should have left his house when he asked.”

I hear her chewing brownie. “Maybe,” she says around the food. “But I wouldn’tof.” She pauses. “Sorry.” I hear a soft glug, like she’s swallowing, then she enunciates her words. “I wouldn’t have. You’re trying to be nice. How much longer are you going to wait?”

“As long as I have to, I guess.”

“I wouldn’t sit there at all. Not in downtown Atlanta.”

“It’s daylight and stuff. I feel completely safe.”

“If you don’t, you should leave. Lover Boy can catch a cab.”

We talk for a few more minutes, during which Lora reiterates the apology she gave me at the start of the conversation, and tells me she’ll keep working on Milasy. Apparently Lora talked to her last night and told her she should let me come back to the house. She said Milasy clinked her—my—boots together and said “maybe,” then smirked.

Another hour crawls by, during which rain starts to stream down from the upper level of the parking deck. I’m engrossed in homework when there’s a knock on my window. I jump, and am surprised to see a girl wearing a pale blue rain coat. The first thing I notice is how pretty her face is. The second thing: her eyes. One is blue and one is hazel-green. She taps on my window.

Just as I’m about to roll the window down, my phone rings. KELLAN, the screen says. I hold up a finger at her and answer on the second ring.

“Hey, you.”

“Cleo?” My stomach jumps at the sound of his voice, which sounds reassuringly casual. “You still around?”

“Of course I am, silly. Are you out?”

“I’m walking to the parking deck.”

He definitely sounds better. Less... encumbered. More like regular Kellan. His uncle must be doing okay. I smile. “Cool. I’m on the first floor.”

“See ya soon.”

I belatedly turn down the Band of Horses song I’m listening to and roll the window down.

The girl leans slightly forward, then slightly back. “Is this Kellan’s car?”

“Um... Who’s asking?”

“Where is he?” the girl asks.

I feel my Spidey sense prickle. “Who are you?”

She looks around, as if she’s worried someone might hear her. “Whitney,” she says softly.

“Are you related to him?”

Truman leans up between the front seats, pressing his head against my arm, as if he wants to hear her answer, too.