***
I went back to my apartment, hoping for the first time since I’d been living with her that Julia would be home. I relished the thought of confessing everything to her, of telling her everything that had been going on between me and Noah. Of course I couldn’t get into specifics about his case – there was lawyer/client confidentiality to consider. But I could get into the relationship specifics all I wanted.
But when I stepped through the front door, the apartment was empty.
Julia was probably still out with Josh.
I swallowed my disappointment and headed straight for the refrigerator, where I found a mostly full bottle of white wine. I poured some into a plastic cup and took a long swallow, the liquid burning my throat as it went down. I was hardly a wine connoisseur, and yet even I could tell it was cheap, the kind of wine you bought when you were broke and just trying to get drunk. But I didn’t care. I took another swig. It was already starting to taste a little better.
The thought of spending the night alone in my apartment was depressing. I was in New York City. I was young. I should have been out with friends, having adventures and causing trouble. But I’d never been a social person, and I certainly wasn’t one for adventures or causing trouble. Even the night I’d met Noah, the night I’d been at the bachelorette party, had been kind of a fluke – I’d only been invited because the bride, Cora, had invited everyone from our study group, and I think she thought it would have been rude not to include me, too.
I’d always felt slightly out of place when I was forced to socialize, like everyone else knew exactly what to say and how to behave. Everyone else had cool stories and interesting questions to ask each other. Meanwhile I’d be standing off to the side, counting down the minutes until I could get home and curl up with a book or a movie.
I took my cup of wine and walked across the living room until I was standing in front of the tiny sliding window in the corner. The view was depressing, just a grey brick building across the way, so different from the view in Noah’s apartment which was all bright city lights and sweeping panoramas.
I remembered being tied up outside on the terrace of his hotel room, the warm breeze gliding against my skin as he fucked me. I shivered and an overwhelming wave of despair overtook me.
He’s not the man for you, Charlotte, I told myself. And that fact that I could have thought he was, even for a moment… well, maybe Noah was right. Maybe I was naïve.
I downed the rest of my wine, then poured myself another cup.
My phone began ringing, Noah’s name flashing on the caller ID.
I sent it to voicemail, knowing it would anger him.
Sure enough, a second later, a text appeared.
Answer me.
I guffawed. Answer me. Wow. How over-the-top arrogant.
I was sick of him having all the power.
I stared at the bottle of wine and considered finishing it off.
My phone buzzed again.
Fine. I’m coming over.
Excitement and relief pulsed through me, but it was short-lived, burning out fast and replaced by a searing rage. How insulting. Did he just think I was going to allow him to come over here? So he could do what? Certainly he wouldn’t want to talk. He’d want to tie me up and spank me, collar me with his belt so he could relieve whatever emotions he was wrestling with, only to toss me aside again when he’d burnt off his feelings.
I was done playing that game.
A warm drowsiness overtook me as the alcohol slid through my veins. I closed my eyes and imagined Noah showing up at my apartment, frenzied and crazed. He would bend me over, he would fuck me from behind, he would spank me until I was bruised, he would kiss me until I was breathless and wanting. I thought about taking him in my mouth, how good he would feel as his fingers moved through my hair.
I flushed.
Maybe I would let him come over, I thought.
Maybe he would have an explanation. Maybe he would tell me he was wrong, maybe he would promise he would never try to leave me again.
I felt myself sinking back into the addiction, the obsession, the hold he had on me. Ever since I’d met him, my life had revolved around Noah Cutler.If he came here, if he showed up and knocked on my door, I wasn’t sure I’d be strong enough to turn him away.
My eyes flew open.
I needed to get out of my apartment, needed to leave here before he arrived. I wasn’t strong enough to resist him on my own.
I was still wearing his sweater, and I pulled the fabric to my face, inhaling his scent. Then I grabbed my purse and walked out the door.
***
The streets of New York comforted me.
The pulse of energy, the lights, the cacophony of voices as people moved through the falling night to their destinations reminded me there was a whole world outside of Noah Cutler, a whole world of people and places and parties and other men, men who were handsome and young and didn’t have complicated histories that involved murder and BDSM clubs.