Hideaway (Devil's Night 2)
A smile escaped me. Okay. Point.
The floury scent of the tortilla hit my nose, and my stomach suddenly rumbled. I hadn’t eaten this morning.
She finished brushing out my tangles as I unwrapped the burrito and bit into it. Soft egg, spicy sausage, some onions, peppers, and jalapenos with a little cheese, and I couldn’t help myself. I bit into it again, not waiting to swallow the first bite first.
“Good girl.” Alex winked at me and turned on
the hair dryer.
My hair blew around me, the whirring noise drowning out everything but me and this fucking burrito. Most of the time, I rarely stopped moving long enough to notice if I was hungry or not, so I’d often go all day on an egg and a piece of toast. Marina always had something cooking, too, so I might grab a few pieces of leftovers or a bowl of soup from the pot she kept on the stove, but usually, it was grab-and-go or eat nothing.
Alex smoothed the brush through my hair as she dried it, the long strands tickling the bare skin of my arms and back. I felt chills spread across my skin and found myself dropping my head back to give her better access with the brush. I breathed out, closing my eyes as I ate. The prongs of her brush dragged over my scalp.
Soon I’d finished the burrito and sat, savoring the feel of the brush combing through my hair when I realized the hair dryer was no longer running. I opened my eyes, seeing Alex staring at me in the mirror, her cute ponytail sitting high with hair around her face.
My own hair, all foot and a half of it, cascaded down my back, and she’d put a part in the side. I hadn’t had it down, clean, and blown out all at the same time in ages.
“When’s the last time you’ve been touched?” she asked, studying me. “Like really touched?”
I dropped my head forward again, avoiding her eyes. I suppose I’d enjoyed getting my hair combed a little too much?
She sat down next to me, straddling the bench and facing me.
“We all need it, you know?” she said quietly. “We need contact. It’s only human. But if you’re not getting it from someone else, there’s nothing wrong with a little self-love, either. Just pointing that out. You strike me as uptight, and it’ll help. I self-love at least twice a day.”
I shot her a scowl. I didn’t like people who overshared.
She laughed, and I noticed her bright, wide smile that gave her a child-like, girl-next-door sweetness. Very much in contrast to her un-child-like body that I knew half the men at that party the other night had probably taken to bed. Had Kai slept with her?
“I’m serious, though.” She nudged me, bringing me back. “Being touched is a need. Close your eyes for me.”
Huh?
“It’s an experiment,” she explained, probably seeing my confused look. “I won’t touch you anywhere personal.”
No. I inched away.
But she just followed me. “Close your eyes, and imagine I’m him.”
“Him?”
“Your fantasy.”
My fantasy? Wha—
“Indulge me for two minutes,” she leaned in, whispering, “and I’ll give you my sweatshirt.”
I let out a scoff.
But still…I’d like a sweatshirt.
Fine. Fuck it. I closed my eyes.
Without my sight balancing me, my brain seemed to start floating, but I still felt her shift next to me, and then a hand touched my stomach, making me jump.
“Do you see him in your head,” she whispered, her breath falling across my jaw. “Your fantasy. Picture him—or her—what they’re wearing, the room, how they’re coming for you.”
My eyelids fluttered, the images popping into my head on instinct.