Dare Me Not | 18+ ✔

37. Fata Morgana (Parker)

I should wake up in someone's bed well fucked and satiated, yet here I am, lying on my tummy with my head dangling over the edge of my bed. Unfucked.

I flirted hard last night and got a few guys ready to ditch whatever plans they had for the night, but I ended up with no one. I lost interest as soon as the song ended because the person I wanted was not there. It was unbelievably frustrating. What the hell is wrong with me?

I shouldn't have problems switching from one guy to another guy, no matter how incredibly hot they are. Hot guys are often troublesome, after all. I just need their dicks, not their problems. But look at where I am now; wanting the same dick I've screwed for weeks again and again. Am I this pathetic now? Dammit. This is not how I planned it when I made a deal with Xander.

Why did I agree to fool around with him again? I can't even remember what went through my mind that night. Maybe Brit is right about an office lifestyle. Being surrounded by older people who talk about quarterly targets and sales figures daily messes with my head. Xander has become my Fata Morgana in the desert.

This is getting dangerous because I made a deal with Emma: I don't touch her Xander, and she doesn't touch my mom. So, he needs to leave my system. For real this time.

The shuffling sound and the water running from the kitchen stop my mind from analyzing my problematic situation. Mom is awake and will keep making noises. I might as well get up from my bed and get rid of this hangover.

"Already awake?" Mom says when she sees me walk to the kitchen and plop down on my breakfast stool.

"Almost," I croak, resting my head on the heel of my hand. It still feels heavy, but at least I don't have the dull headache that often comes with the hangover.

Mom pours coffee into my mug and places it in front of me. "Pancake or omelet?"

"Big Mac, please."

"Come again?"

"Nevermind." I shake my head as I grab my mug. "Pancakes are yummy."

Silently, I take a sip of my coffee and wince because it's still too hot. I put it down again while watching Mom move around my kitchen. She's not the best cook I've known in my life, but learning that making me food brings a sense of pride to her, I will not make a fuss about it.

Back in the day, she screwed up plenty of times in the kitchen when she wanted to prepare meals for us, but luckily, we had a cook who saved us from a disastrous dinner. After a while, she settled on just preparing my lunch: bread that had the face of a laughing man, cheese, ham, and cucumber or lettuce in it. My lunch looked ridiculous, but I liked it.

"How's Brit and Sarah?" she asks between the clinking and clanking of the cooking utensils.

"Not much to say, really. Just the same, I guess."

"Have you heard about the lawyer from them?"

"Huh?" I raise an eyebrow. What is she talking ab– Oh. "Yeah. I mean no. Well, I should get more information next week. I will find one, I promise."

She turns her head sideways and smiles. "How can I live without you?"

"You just can't." I take another sip and groan appreciatively when the hot, bitter liquid runs down my throat. "But it can be longer than we want it to. We might need to pay your apartment's back bills because the bank won't bother waiting until your quarrel with that asshole is solved."

"I know," she mumbles, but I bet my ass on it she doesn't have the money for that.

Maybe it's time to give my father a visit. Among all the people, he should be the one who steps up to help Mom. Not that he's responsible for all the stupid decisions my mom made, but he owes us the missing years where I couldn't see Mom at all after they got divorced.