Sugar

I played it off. “Ha. Ha. Sad you’re not invited?” The second I turned to face him, I regretted it.

Noah’s lips parted as his eyes dropped down to my hips and back up to my chest. “Damn.”

I fidgeted, shoving my arms into my coat and covering myself as quickly as possible. “Stare much?”

“Sorry… I just… You look…”

“Whatever. I’m late.”

“Hey, Avery, I’m sorry if we got off on the wrong foot.” His eyes continued to scan me from pigtails to patent leather school shoes. “I can see you're used to a more sophisticated—”

“Now, you can see?” My attire proved his sarcastic claim a blatant lie, and I hated him for seeing me this way. “Just get out of my way.”

“Jesus, are you always such a bitch?”

I drew back. “Excuse me?”

“I’m trying to apologize, and you’re twisting everything—”

“You’re trying to bait me. Besides, I don’t need an apology. I need you to get out of my way before I’m late for my appointment. And I need my neighbors to stop stealing my mail and basically leave me the fuck alone.”

His brow lowered. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” Just then the elevator pinged and I wanted to cry. God fucking damn it with this day!

Without turning around, Noah’s gaze narrowed. “Let me guess… Your appointment.”

If I could vanish into thin air that would be fantastic, but my life would never be that easy. Fuck!

“Please just go into your apartment.”

His frown deepened, his natural easy going expression tightening with a much more severe look and something else I couldn’t quite name. “Why?”

It was too late. The elevator was opening.

Noah quickly whispered, “Tell him to go home. Tell him you changed your mind.”

I couldn’t see over his shoulder, but I heard the doors open and Don’s heavy breathing. I braced for the brutal skid of judgment. He didn’t know my reasoning for going out with such a man, and I hated the urge to justify my logic, which there wasn’t time to do anyway.

Blinking up at Noah, I gave him a pleading look, silently begging him not to be another person that judged me. I didn’t know why it mattered what he thought of me.

“I have to go.”

He did a double take of the man now hogging the hall, and I turned, shutting out all distractions and putting myself on the clock. I forced a smile.

Don wore a lecherous smirk, his ruddy coloring coated in a glaze of sweat and his greasy hair combed over his scalp so severely, each strand lay like a black wax strip of dried licorice. There was no way Noah wasn’t judging me.

“You ready, my little doll?” His hand slipped under my coat and around my hip, and I cringed. He tugged one of my pigtails. “My pretty little doll.” As if just noticing Noah, Don tipped his chin. “How ya doin’?”

Noah didn’t move. He didn’t blink. He stood stiffly, watching me with a blank expression.

Part of me wanted to say fuck you and mind your own business! But another part wanted to explain that this was just a job, conversation and cocktails, nothing more—except maybe a few uncomfortable pictures this one liked to save as keepsakes—all for four hours and two grand. Who would turn that down? Maybe a normal girl, but I’d never been normal. Probably never would be either.

I lowered my gaze and accompanied Don to the elevator, nudging his hand away when it lowered to grip my ass. He chuckled as if grab ass was a game we both enjoyed.

I didn’t look at Noah. This time it wasn’t about playing coy or keeping the upper hand. It was about plain old cowardice and shame. My gaze remained on the ground until we reached the first floor, far away from my neighbor’s judgment. And then the clock was ticking. Eight dollars and change per minute.

9

Noah

My gut knotted as I watched the elevator close to carry them down. All my instincts came to a screeching halt and the excitement to tease her shriveled to nothing. What the hell was she doing with a guy like that?

It made no sense. That man was at least twice her age and was so out of shape his skin seemed made of wax. The way his beady eyes watched her wasn’t right. She knew it wasn’t right. Yet … off they went.

Frowning, I headed into my apartment, replaying what just happened and trying to make a lick of sense of it. Sure, I fully intended to break her balls. I enjoyed the banter, especially with a woman who never seemed to flinched.

But tonight she didn’t seem in the mood for games. And why did she call her dates “appointments”? These guys were obviously interested in her—though I couldn’t see what she was getting out of the deal.

I cringed at the thought of the man who took her out tonight, once again wondering what the hell she could possibly see in him. The longer I thought about it, the closer my confusion turned to revulsion and anger. She could go out with that greasy, pinky ring wearing car salesman but not me?