Bad Girl (Alphahole Roommates 3)

More than Aiden’s request to let it go because he doesn’t want to get caught giving me the green light and piss off his woman, I’ve stopped myself multiple times from starting that ball rolling, because not only have I’ve been slammed with work for months but also because I’d prefer to let the girl do the sharing about her past. And most importantly, I’ve made it a policy to only dig into the pasts of people I’m paid to do it for unless I have an extreme personal stake in things. My mentor lost the love of his life by getting caught investigating her behind her back out of unfounded paranoia. He broke that trust and couldn’t get it back. That warning and the look of loss in his eyes as he gave that advice to me stuck. He warned me not to let the job get me jaded about people.

Wanting to bang somebody isn’t a personal enough stake to me to break that rule – or it hasn’t been. But, I have a gut instinct that doesn’t generally steer me wrong and it’s telling me something is up with her.

Now that I’ve fucked her, hopefully it’s a turning point and she’ll let the walls down.

She passed out directly after she got to come otherwise I’d go at her again. She took what I gave her like it’s been something she’s been deprived of for a whole lot longer than the teasing I did justified.

After I get rid of the condom in her bathroom trash, noting the bathroom isn’t much different than the rest of this semi-sterile apartment, except that she has a multicolored shower curtain filled with cats and some colorful bathroom accessories, I climb in bed with her and pull her to me, sifting my hand through her soft pink hair. When I first met her it was a pale pink. At one point it was jet black with a streak of hot pink and now it’s hot pink all over.

She snuggles in, whispering, “Don’t go,” and then her breath evens out as she nuzzles in deeper. She molds to me completely, fitting in a way that feels important.

Definitely not going anywhere, Vixen.

4

Ally

Flashback: The Booty Call, Continued…

When I wake up Saturday morning at nine thirty, he’s gone, but there’s a text message from him.

Jude: I’ll be back tonight. I’m not done with you yet. Gotta work so I’ll be here at ten.

Shit.

No.

Fuck, no.

I hurriedly shower, dress, and pack an overnight bag. It’s kind of silly the way I hurry since it’s Saturday morning and he’s not coming for over twelve hours, but yet I feel the urgent need to get out of this space, this space that still feels like he’s here.

I go to Sonia’s for a sleepover, sending her out with her new beau for a date night and sleepover at his place while hanging with her two daughters. We make DIY edible licorice tiaras decorated with cereal, eat junk food, and watch Disney movies. Jude phones me four times between ten and ten thirty. And I ignore it.

Sunday night, I’m back home and he shows up at my door not ten minutes after I arrive.

I’m about to tiptoe backwards from the peep hole when I hear him clear his throat.

“Ally. Open up.”

Argh.

I open it with the chain across. “What do you want?” I clip.

“Open the door. You didn’t answer me last night. You need to be punished.”

My heart does a cartwheel. My vagina weeps in a way that means, “yes please!”. He looks serious, but also sexy. A sexy punishment? My knees wobble along with my belly.

No. Can’t do it. Too dangerous. Even if I really, really want to.

And I do.

“Sorry. I have company. Told ya … Friday night was a one-night thing. Bye, Jude.” I close the door and lock both locks.

And then, feeling like I’m deflating as I walk back to my room, every step shrinking me smaller, I finally curl up in my little nook, and bawl my eyes out. I sleep in there, too, in my little pillow and blanket nest, holding my fuzzy bunny from my childhood, one of the few pieces of Alyssa McQueen that are with me.

Part of my Mom care package that got sent the one and only time I got anything from her, a few months ago. I only pull the bunny out when I really need him. Tonight, I do.

Friday night wasn’t hate sex.

It was supposed to be, but it wasn’t – not for me.

It definitely didn’t get Jude out of my system. If anything, it made me ache for more. And clearly, by the way he was with me and the fact that he showed up tonight despite me ghosting him after sex, he doesn’t have me out of his system either. I’m not sure why that is, but I know it’s not a good thing.