“How you feeling?” he asks, rotating back and forth on his rolling chair.
“Fine.” I shrug. “Just wondering how I’m going to wear pants after this.”
“Ah, yeah. That. You’ll just have to skip those for a few days.”
“Oh, is that all?” I laugh.
A smile pulls at the corners of Dare’s lips. “You ready to go back in?”
“Let’s do this.” I untie the sweatshirt around my waist and lie back on my side. Dare slaps a palm against my ass cheek before leaning down to bite it.
I squeal, pushing his head away.
“Sorry. Had to get that out of my system.”
Out of his system. We both know how well that worked last time. The needle hits my skin, and I close my eyes, trying to think about anything other than the pain. It’s hurting more than before now. Almost like scratching a raw sunburn.
“Tell me what you wanted to talk to me about earlier?” I ask, abandoning my plan to let him bring it up.
“What, now?”
“Yes, now. I need a distraction.”
Dare clears his throat. “Did you find a place to stay yet?”
A wave of sadness crashes down on me. I didn’t want to have this conversation right now. “No. The place I wanted fell through.”
“You and Jess should move in with me.”
Well. Ask for a distraction and you shall receive.
“What?” I say, turning my head to face him.
“Easy,” he says. “Try not to move.”
I lie back down, waiting for him to continue as my pulse kicks into high gear.
“It doesn’t have to be like what you’re thinking. You can even have your own room, if you wanted to,” Dare explains.
“As tempting as your offer is, I can’t do that.” My voice is quiet as I focus on the glowing pink light of the Bad Intentions sign in the window.
“W
hy the fuck not? You need a place to stay. I have the space.”
“Because if things between us ever get…messy, what does that mean for Jess and me?”
“I would never—” Dare starts.
“I know,” I cut him off. “I know. But Jess needs to be able to depend on me. To have stability and consistency and to always know that he has a place to stay.”
“And I can give you guys that. Or you can just stay with me until you find a place.”
“Why are you pushing this?” He’s done enough. The job. The clothes. It feels like all I ever do is take take take from him.
“Aside from the obvious?”
“What’s obvious?” I ask, clueless. The tattoo machine ceases in its buzzing, but I don’t turn to face him.