I hesitate for a second before depressing the button in the center of the doorknob, locking the bathroom door.
Living alone means I rarely ever close this door, let alone lock it, but I feel raw. Inside and out.
It’s been such a long day and if I didn’t feel so filthy, literally, I’d just drop face first onto my bed. Thankfully, I don’t have to work tomorrow. I plan to sleep for twelve hours. At least.
Peeling off my clothes, I drop them into a pile on the floor in front of the sink, purposefully not looking at my new, stained thigh highs.
Letting the water warm up, I brush through my hair and twist it into a bun on the top of my head. I don’t want to deal with a full head of wet hair if we’re going to be talking when I get out.
Talking.
My teeth clamp down on my lower lip and I hurry to step over the tub ledge.
Hold it together, Payton.
I don’t.
Tears start filling my eyes.
Moving into the stream, I let the water wash over my roiling emotions.
I’m still hurt by Nero ignoring me at the café.
And I’m confused by the reaction he had to Carlton when we were simply talking.
Ashamed of how much I loved him showing up at the concert.
Nero found me. He came after me. He touched me, let me feel how much he wanted me.
But, when you put it all together, it doesn’t make sense. Or it does, but it means that Nero wants to have sex with me, but he doesn’t want anyone to know about it.
I turn away from the water, resting my forehead against the wall and letting the stream flow over my side and back.
I’m trying to keep the intrusive thoughts out. Trying to push them away as they tell me this is what I deserve. That it’s all I deserve. That I’ll never be more than someone’s dirty little secret.
At least I got to choose the who.
Cool air swirls around me, a breeze flowing past the pulled back curtain, and I turn my head to find Nero stepping into my small shower.
The sight of his naked body in the light forces me to pause and take him in. No matter how confused I might be about this situation, there’s no question that he’s something to behold.
He’s built like a… well, like a warrior. Or maybe a soldier of old. Hard muscles and scarred flesh. Strength and violence twisted together into a formidable adversary.
He’s hard where I’m soft. Tough where I’m not. And if I could ever afford to go to therapy, I’m sure I’d be able to unpack these feelings of insecurity. But since that’s not in the cards, I’ll just have to trust the look in his eyes, and believe he finds me as attractive as I find him.
Nero pulls the curtain closed behind him, and my body automatically turns to face him.
Even though my brain is shouting at me that I don’t actually know this man, my heart is telling me to cling to him with both hands.
His eyes flick across my body, cataloging all my parts, but not lingering. He meets my gaze again.
There’s not much room in here, so even standing on opposite ends of the tub, there’s barely a foot of space between us.
Silently, Nero reaches up and starts to pull my hair loose from its bun. His fingers are gentle, and he manages to get it out without tearing any strands of hair out.
“What are you doing?” I finally ask when he slips the black elastic around his wrist.
With his fingertips at my temples, he tips my head back, wetting my hair in the stream of water. “I’m washing your hair.”
I squint my eyes against the spray. “Why?”
“Because I want to.”
He tips my head back upright and I guess we’re both going to pretend that his dick isn’t hard right now.
Nero picks up my bottle of shampoo, filling his palm.
He moves back just a bit. “Come here.”
I step toward him, so the hair hanging down my back is no longer in the water. And then, for the first time that I can remember, someone washes my hair.
His fingers scrub my locks, scraping lightly across my scalp, sending tingles up and down my spine.
He runs his hands down the length, before moving his attention back to my roots. The touch is so tender, and I have to take deep inhales through my nose, hoping to keep the rest of my tears at bay.
I don’t know how to handle this, the hot and cold, the rough and sweet, with him. But a part of me knows that I’m just broken enough to accept it. To take what he’s willing to give, because what he gives feels so damn close to love.
“Back.”
Keeping my eyes closed, I let him guide me back under the spray, where he continues his soft touches, rinsing the shampoo out of my hair.
His hands on my shoulders let me know it’s time to step forward again.
And this time I watch him, I watch his face, and the tender look in his eyes, as he runs conditioner through my hair; taking the time to separate the sections and run his fingers through the strands to make sure nothing is tangled.
Again, he moves me back under the spray and rinses the product out of my hair.
But he doesn’t stop there.
Nero reaches down, picking up my facewash next.
I expect him to hand me the bottle. But, of course, he doesn’t.
Squeezing a small amount out, he rubs his fingertips together. “Close your eyes, Baby.”
My body complies and I tip my head back as I do so, giving him a better view of my face from his taller height. And when his touch glides over my cheeks, I feel another traitorous tear roll down from my eye to meet his touch.
“Shh.” His thumb brushes the tear away. “I’ve got you.”
Instead of calming my nerves, his words fray them even more.
I want to ask him why, but instead, I murmur, “I thought I locked the door.”
He wipes away another tear. “You did. And I’m going to let that go. This time.”
It’s a controlling douchebag thing to say, but it still causes the edges of my mouth to turn up into a smile.
Warm lips press against mine, but before I can kiss them back, they pull away. “Rinse your face off, Payton.”
Wanting the moment for myself, I give Nero my back and do as I’m told.
His body presses against my back, and an arm circles around my waist, holding me in place. Tipping my head out of the direct spray, I open my eyes to see Nero’s other hand reaching around me for the loofa that I have hanging from the faucet handle.
He drags his hand across my stomach before I lose his touch, then the click of my body wash being opened fills the shower.
When I look back over my shoulder, I see Nero squeeze way too much out of the bottle.
“Don’t use so much,” I chastise lightly.
He clicks it shut. “I’ll get you more.”
Shaking my head, because there’s no point in arguing, I melt into the sensation of Nero running the soapy loofa up the backs of my arms, across my back, down my spine. He takes time rubbing soft circles on each butt cheek. And I’m so absorbed in the moment, I don’t have time to be embarrassed when he slides a soapy hand down my crack.
Nero continues to clean every inch of my legs, lowering himself behind me. Again my embarrassment doesn’t flare. Not even when he tells me to turn and face him so he can work his way up from my toes.
I feel like I should feel so much more self-conscious about this. I know I’m not built like, well, like the type of girl a guy like him would normally go out with. Something I feel bad for thinking, because I know our bodies don’t tell anything about the type of people we are. But there’s knowing something, and then there’s believing something.
Somehow, I feel nothing but cherished when I’m with Nero.
I feel safe.
Unbidden, I think of this afternoon and my stomach drops.
“Why did you pretend not to know me?” I whisper the question.
Nero rinses out the loofa, then hands it to me. “I’ll tell you.”
Taking it, I turn off the water and hang the loofa back in its spot.
We stay quiet as Nero uses one of the towels to dry me off, as he stands damp in the cool air, apparently unaffected.
When he’s done with me, I slip into a pair of my plain cotton pajamas and climb into bed.
Nero turns the lights off, one-by-one, as he makes his way into the bedroom. The final lamp going dark a moment before the mattress dips beside me.
“Roll onto your side.” The box spring creaks under our combined weight. “Your bed is too fucking small.”
I almost ask about the size of his bed, because I bet it’s bigger than my Full, but I don’t, rolling onto my side instead.
There’s more shuffling, then Nero, clad in only a pair of boxer briefs, pulls me into his body. His whole front, covering my whole back. His skin a simmering heat against mine.
“I’ll tell you something.” Nero’s words brush against the top of my head. “But then I want you to tell me something.”
“Okay,” I agree, blinking into the dark.
The arm around my waist adjusts until his fingers are tucked between my side and the mattress.
“I have my security company. It’s real. And I make good money from that.” His chest expands on a slow inhale. “But it’s not what I really do.”
“What do you really do?”
“Bad things.”
“Do you hurt people?”
I can feel his head nodding on the pillow. “Sometimes.”
“Are they bad people?”
He sighs. “Usually, but that doesn’t make what I do good.”
I think about what Jean said this morning and wet my lips.
“Are you a mobster?”
The arm around my waist tightens. “You could say that.”
“And that’s why you don’t want us to be together?”
“Payton,” his voice rumbles through me. “I want to be together. That’s not the problem.”
“It’s your enemies,” I repeat what he’d said earlier.
“That’s right. It’s not safe to be associated with me.”
“What does that mean for me?” I hate how meek I sound. But I need to know where I stand.
“I’m trying to figure that out.”
“Will you tell me more about what you do?”
“Not yet,” he answers truthfully.
“I don’t really know what mobster means,” I admit.
“Hmm,” he hums. “Why’d you use it?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, not waiting to snitch on my boss, but if she knows enough about Nero to use it, then maybe it’s not some big secret.
Or maybe she’s in that world too?
His thumb strokes against my stomach.
“My boss said something after you and the mayor left today. But I didn’t know which of you she was referring to.”
Nero huffs out a laugh. “I didn’t recognize anyone else in there, but if she said that, I recommend staying on her good side.”
I shudder. “She’s scary enough already, I don’t need extra reasons to fear her.”
Nero nuzzles against my hair. “I’ll protect you.”
I make a doubtful sound. “How are you supposed to protect me if you have to pretend like you don’t know me?”
There’s a beat of silence. “Like I said, I’m figuring that out.”
Obviously, I want to know more. I want to know everything. But this might be one of those ignorance is bliss moments that I should take advantage of.
“My turn,” Nero’s voice is like a lullaby, causing me to sink further into his embrace. “Tell me why you were still a virgin.”
The question rips apart the wall of calm I was starting to build.
“It just… never happened.”
“There’s more.” He says it confidently. “You didn’t hold onto it all this time for no reason. And I want to know what that reason is.”
“You’re right,” I whisper.
My eyes close.
And I let myself remember.
The newspaper crinkles under my grip while I read and walk.
If they’re gonna keep cutting my hours, I’m going to need to find a new job.
Running my finger across a help wanted ad for one of the big bakeries in town, I remind myself that I have my diploma in my bedroom nightstand, and in two days I’ll be eighteen. Meaning I’ll be able to start working full-time.
And with the cash I’ve hidden away in my old textbooks it won’t be long before I can move out. And hopefully far, far away.
I don’t bother pulling my keys out of my purse as I walk up the short driveway and past Arthur’s car. He never locks the door. Which I hate. But I always hold out hope that someone will break in some day, and they’ll kill Arthur before stealing the tv that he’s no doubt sprawled in front of.
Tipping my head down to avoid confrontation, I open the front door and step inside. But there’s no one in the living room.
Crossing my fingers that I can make it to my room without being seen, I sneak toward the stairs leading to the second floor.
I’m halfway up the flight when I hear the voices.
“Can I do it in here?” A voice I recognize as Bobby’s, one of Arthur’s friends, asks.
“In her room?” my stepdad questions. “You like the frilly comforter and shit?”
Frilly comforter?
Are they in my room?
I freeze in place.
Why would they be in my room?
“Yeah.” Bobby laughs. “It really gives off that virgin vibe.”
Nausea crawls up my throat.
Why are they talking about virgins? In my room?
“Look, you’re paying for her first time, but if you want to do it here, that’s another hundred. And you’ll have to do it when my old lady is at work. She won’t say shit to me once I show her the money, but she might throw a fit if I tell her beforehand.”
“Deal.” I hear a jostling sound of slapping hands. “Six hundred and I get the first go at plucking that teenage pussy.”
Arthur laughs at his friend. “Not ‘til this weekend. In case she tries to go crying to someone about this, I don’t want issues with statutory rape or any of that shit. Once she’s eighteen, it’s just a he-said-she-said. And with the reputation her mom has, no one is gonna believe her.”
My body recoils, and my foot slips off the step.
I let go of the newspaper with one hand to grip at the banister.
The railing shakes, but holds. Moving as quickly as my shaking legs will go, I back down the steps and run to the front door.
Their voices are growing behind me, and I know I have to get out of sight. If they see me now, and find out that I heard… What they said…
Chest heaving, I turn the door handle as slow as I dare, to keep it quiet, then pull the door open.
One foot outside.
The voices are louder.
Second foot outside.
I can hear their footsteps.
I’m pulling the door shut, and I see their feet on the stairs.
My whole body freezes.
I can’t shut the door while they can see it. If I close it and run, I’m as good as dead––no money. No clothes. And even though it’s not what I want to do, I know what I have to do.
I push the door back open, pretending like I just got home.
They’re halfway down the stairs, but I don’t look up. I just wrap my arms around my middle.
“What the fuck are you doing home?” Arthur snaps.
“I’m s-sick,” I stammer through the first excuse I can think of. And with the way my stomach is rolling, it’s not even a lie.
“Gross,” he sneers.
I hear Bobby snicker as they both walk straight to the kitchen.
Not needing an invitation to leave, I dart up the stairs and into my room. And even though I want to spend my time sanitizing every inch of the room they might have touched. I don’t have time.
I need to pack.
Now.
Because I’m leaving tonight.
Nero’s chest is rising and falling against my back. It’s the only sign he heard my words as they scraped their way out of my throat.
“I was so scared for so long after I left. And the thought of someone touching me…” I press back into him, and his arm tightens around me even more. “I wasn’t ready. Then I wasn’t sure how.”
The mattress jostles as Nero shifts onto his back. “Come here.”
Twisting around, I turn and lay against him while he readjusts the blankets around my shoulders. My head goes to that spot between his shoulder and chest. My leg hooking up over his.
Nero’s arms encircle me in a hug.
“But then I met you.” I say the words into his chest. Hoping he understands how much he’s meant to me already. “And it finally felt like it was time.”
“I should’ve made him suffer.” Nero’s words are gravel over sandpaper.
“What?”
He hugs me tighter. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s over now,” I tell him, reassuring him. “It took me longer than I’d planned but I got to control the experience. And no matter what happens once you figure things out, I don’t regret giving it to you.”
“I’ll make sure you never do.”
A large hand strokes over my damp hair.
“Go to sleep, Baby.”
My breath leaves me on a sigh. “Goodnight, Nero.”
