His Plaything(30)
Chapter 14
Avery
At a feather-light kiss on my forehead, I shifted under the covers and rubbed my eyes. “You're leaving?” I murmured, squinting at Nixon's silhouette. The pale dawn light made it hard to tell, but he seemed already dressed and ready to go.
He patted my hair. “Sorry, babe. Didn't mean to wake you.”
“Mm … no, it's okay.” I sat up to stretch and, after a moment of confusion, remembered that we had ended up in Nixon's room last night. “Just let me put my pajamas back on and I'll walk you out.”
His teeth flashed in a mischievous smirk. “You don't have to get dressed. They'll call me when the car's out front, so it's not like anybody's waiting in the hall to see your cute little ass.”
“Horn dog.” Still, I had to laugh. “Normally I'd argue with you … but I don't want to make you late. So don't get used to the naked goodbyes, okay?”
Feeling his eyes on me the whole way, I walked him to the front door. He picked up his suitcase and we shared one last, lingering goodbye kiss; its bittersweet warmth made me brave enough to say, “I miss you already.” I knew his work was secretive and he had no freedom in scheduling his duties, but that wasn't much comfort.
He touched his forehead to mine. “Me, too. But I'll be back tomorrow around eight-thirty, okay? It's just one night.”
After the sound of his footsteps faded down the hall, I locked the door behind him. Then I went to pick up my pajamas off his bedroom floor and start getting ready for class. Not wanting to sit around an empty apartment, even with the TV or my laptop for company, I decided to leave early and grab breakfast at Starbucks instead of eating my usual bowl of cereal here. The friendly hustle and bustle of strangers would help keep me from feeling too lonely.
In the lobby, a familiar-looking blonde was standing at the mailbox wall, picking through a fanned sheaf of envelopes and brochures. I slowed my brisk walk, squinting as I tried to remember where I had seen her before—then stopped when I suddenly figured it out.
It was the woman who Nixon had been fucking on the dining-room table when I'd first moved in. I almost didn't recognize Pam with all her clothes on. Not that they left much to the imagination; she wore a low-cut, monochrome-striped blouse and a black spandex miniskirt with “Pete's Sports Bar” written in blocky white letters across the extremely tight rear. Wow. That uniform sure is … interesting. Good thing I don't have to work there.
As she turned around, she saw me and gave an airy laugh. “Oh, it's you!”
“I, uh … didn't know we lived in the same complex,” I said, smiling sheepishly. Meeting my boyfriend's old fuck buddy was beyond awkward, but it helped that I was still walking on air about the whole “boyfriend” part. Less than an hour since I'd kissed Nixon goodbye, I already couldn't stop thinking about seeing him again tomorrow night.
“I live right next door, actually. Unit six-oh-six.” She held out her hand, displaying an impressive blood-red manicure. “Hi, I'm Pam.”
That part I'd already known, but whatever—no need to tell her that Nixon had put a name to the face. Or the massive boobs, as the case may be. Feeling a little more relaxed by now, I shook her hand. “I'm Avery, Nixon's … new stepsister,” I said, narrowly avoiding the word girlfriend. That wasn't easy when I was still swooning over our shiny new relationship.
“Yeah, I remember you.” She chuckled. “From a few weeks ago.”
The nervousness that had started to fade came rushing back. “Heheh. So, uh…” Searching for a non-nudity-related topic, I said the first thing that came to mind. “Do you have an early shift today?” I hadn't heard of Pete's, but if a place made its waitresses dress like that, I wouldn't have thought they'd be open before lunch.
“A late one, actually. I just clocked out.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Oh, wow. That sounds rough.”
“Yeah, last night was a real bitch,” she sighed. “But at least I had something to look forward to. I'm flying out in a couple hours to meet Nixon.”
“W-what?” I couldn't have heard that right … could I?
Pam gave an impish smile, the tip of her tongue poked between her teeth. “I know, right! We're spending the whole weekend together in Las Vegas. Isn't that romantic?”
My mouth opened and closed like a fish's. Yanked out of water, gutted alive, unable to see the hook inside the worm until it was too late.
Clearly Nixon's past wasn't really all in his past. He'd tricked me. Used me. We must have fucked half a dozen times over the past few days, ever since I'd been stupid enough to believe his little “just the two of us” spiel. Fool me once, shame on you … I should have known better.