Trust Me (Rough Love 3)

“None of it matters anymore,” I said, shaking my head. I couldn’t feel sympathy for Price. He was a bad person, just like Simon was a bad person. Just like I was a bad person sometimes. “I’m through with relationships, and I mean it this time. I’m horrible at them. I truly am. I’m fucking done this time.”

“Oh, Chere.” It was Andrew’s turn to sigh. “Life sucks so bad sometimes. Do you want me to come over? Do you need some cuddle time? Best friend cuddles are the best kind of cuddles.”

“They are the best kind of cuddles,” I agreed. “But I’m going to take a rain check. I need to take a shower and rest, and think. I need to think about everything. If Price calls you or comes to see you…”

“I won’t tell him where you are. He could torture me, and I wouldn’t tell him.”

“I don’t know if he’s going to come looking for me,” I said, remembering his cold voice. You have one hour to get the fuck out of this apartment and never come back. “I might need you to go to his place at some point, though, and get the rest of my things.”

“I’ll do anything you need me to do. Whatever you need, just call me, any time of day.”

“I love you so much, Andrew. You’re a wonderful friend.”

“The feeling is mutual. You’re sure about the cuddles?”

I crawled out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. “Give them to Craig. Appreciate what you have, because he’s wonderful.” He doesn’t lock you in cages, for instance, to keep you from going to ex-boyfriends’ funerals. “Can you come see me tomorrow? I’ll cash in on the cuddles then.”

“You got it. You won’t even need to get Price’s permission first, or confess to him afterward that your gay friend was in the same room with you.”

“Freedom. Terrible freedom.”

I joked, and Andrew joked, but the freedom really was terrible. Or perhaps it was the loss of security. I’d come to depend on Price for so many things. All of that would have to change. I felt tired just thinking about it, so tired and lost.

I said goodbye to Andrew, unpacked my toiletries and cranked up the shower. I hunched under the hot deluge of water for long minutes, trying to get my muscles to unknot and relax. I washed my hair and every inch of my skin, everywhere Price had ever caressed or struck or groped me. I ate a sandwich from room service that was probably delicious. I didn’t know, because I couldn’t taste anything.

After that, I turned on the TV to hear some noise, and crawled into the luxurious hotel bed. We’d never watched TV at Price’s place. We’d had sex, and played in his dungeon, and when we weren’t doing that, we’d read poetry and talked about life and creativity, design and ideas. I didn’t allow myself to get up and dig his poetry out of my suitcase. If I did that, I’d never get to sleep.

If I did that, I’d probably run back to him and beg for another chance. That impulse would eventually fade. I just needed distance and time to get over him. He was bad for me. He was just as bad as he’d warned me he was, if only I’d listened.

I hoped I wouldn’t dream at all, but I did, stark, suffocating nightmares of pale blue eyes and unbreakable metal bars.

Chapter Fourteen: Barely There

Andrew snuggled beside me, wrapped in the plush hotel comforter. He told the best stories. He was describing the most recent power exchange scene between him and Craig.

“So then he said, ‘How much do you love me?’ And I was like, ‘a whole lot.’ And he was like, ‘no, I mean, how much do you love me?’ He wanted me to pick which ass plug he was going to use on me. And Chere, some of them were like…” His voice drifted off as he made exaggerated motions of largeness with his hands. “And he looked at me, you know? He just gave me that look, and I loved him so, so much for making me feel so, so fucking scared.”

“I know that look,” I said, a little sadly. “So? Tell me the rest. Which one did you pick? How much do you love him?”

“Let me put it this way. My ass still hurts, and this was two days ago. I’m lying down instead of sitting. You do the math.”

“You got a spanking too, I bet. Bad boy.”

“Shit, yeah. Craig likes to make it hurt.” He ran a hand through his hair with a giddy smile. Andrew loved getting hurt. Hell, I loved getting hurt too. Fear, dread, the pushing of limits, the emotional appeal.

Do you love me?

Yes, I love you. But I shouldn’t. I can’t.

Andrew’s expression sobered as he looked at his watch. I was expecting Vinod to come by any minute for a brainstorming session. I figured he was coming to check on me too, since I’d been sad when I saw him last week, and had now moved into a hotel. I knew he’d ask questions, and I didn’t have the answers, not yet.