God, just doing that is getting me all sorts of hot.
Derrick raises his eyebrows. “Did I get you fucking wet there, love?” he asks with a grin.
“No,” I reply, sticking my tongue out at him. “But you will if you get any closer.”
I’ll leave you to decide what kind of wet I’m talking about. I get too hot just thinking about it.
Derrick is happy to stand there playing along but I eventually turn around and head into my building, going up the stairs, my mind filled with thoughts of random happiness.
Those thoughts are interrupted when I see the door to my apartment jarred open. I look closer. Someone’s broken through the lock.
Oh no!
The door is off it’s hinges and listing to the side on one hinge. I gulp. I probably shouldn’t go inside, but I can’t help myself.
I take a step inside.
“Jenna?” I call out. No answer. The living room is untouched. I go knock on Jenna’s door. She’s not in and the door isn’t locked. I take out my phone and call her.
“What?” Jenna answers in a cold voice when she picks up.
“Have you been to our apartment?” I ask.
She sighs on the other end. “No, and don’t worry. I’m staying with my parents in Connecticut.”
That’s not what I asked her but she continues. “I’m moving out. You don’t have to see me. I think you treated Jake like a real bitch and I don’t want to be around you as you finish him off, Alicia.”
I look at the phone. Is this the same Jenna that was sleeping with my boyfriend? While I was in the apartment? What is going on? Since when did I move to Bizarro world, where Derrick is saving people and I’m becoming a social pariah?
“What did he tell you?” I ask, and Jenna sighs again in irritation.
“You know, it's not even worth it Alicia. He told me all about how you…” Jenna begins but I cut her off.
Because I’ve just walked into my room.
The window is broken. My laptop is broken and tossed on the ground. My posters are ripped from the wall. My desk chair is broken into three pieces. My mirror on my vanity is cracked – like someone took a baseball bat to it.
I hang up, not even thinking what I’m doing. I’m crying, and shaking all at once.
Someone’s wrote in black spray paint, “SLUT” across my wall.
“Oh my God,” I say to myself and I run out. Someone's been here and they came to trash my room. Why would anyone do something like that?
I call Jenna again, but it doesn’t even ring. She puts me straight to voicemail.
I’m so scared I grab my purse and run out of the apartment. So violated. So afraid.
There’s nowhere for me to go. No one for me to call.
I don’t know why I do it, but I dial his number.
He picks up on the first ring.
“Derrick,” I say with a broken voice, trembling despite the warmth of the day.
I don’t need to say any more. “Give me ten minutes,” he says. “Fuck. Give me five minutes.”
He stays on the phone not saying anything but not hanging up and literally 7 minutes later a black stretch Bentley peals around the corner and brakes hard outside my building.