How to Stay Out of Prison: A Modern-Day Woman's Guide

Chapter 18

Nixon~

Walking into my apartment after a long Monday suddenly felt lonely, rather than relaxing, and I imagined that had something to do with missing Lyric.

She'd kept true to her word Saturday night, and she had let me do all the things that I'd wanted to do on Friday to her. By the time that the sun had come up on Sunday, there hadn't been an inch of her body that I hadn't explored. I had touched, tasted, and fucked her everywhere.

The night had been perfect.

Lyric had even stayed to have breakfast, then we'd hung out a little bit before she'd said that she had to get home and do her Sunday chores before her workweek started. I had been reluctant to let her go, but since she'd said that she was going home and not Minneapolis, I figured that I had made great leaps of progress with her. We had even exchanged phone numbers, which I had considered a huge win.

Nevertheless, now, walking into my apartment, I realized how much I wished that I was walking into her apartment or have her here waiting for me.

I dropped my briefcase on the sofa, then headed towards my bedroom to change out of my work clothes. I wanted to pretend like I could go on with life as usual before I pulled my phone out to call her like a lovesick puppy.

Once I went from suit to jeans and t-shirt, I padded my bare feet to the kitchen to see what I could whip up for dinner, and I had my phone in my hand, ready to dial Lyric, when there was a knock at my door. The sound had me feeling like a thirteen-year-old girl that was passing her school crush in the hallway. That's how many butterflies had taken over my gut at the thought that Lyrical could be here.

Jesus, if Lincoln and Jackson could see me now.

I damn near skipped to the front door, but when I pulled it open, it wasn't Lyric on the other side. I blinked a couple of times, wondering if the vision was real, and when I realized that it was, I asked, "What are you doing here?"

Rude? Yeah. Still, what in the hell?

"Really, Nixon," Dina muttered. "Is that any way to greet your guests?"

Probably not, but what in the fuck was Dina Rivers doing here?

I snapped out of my shock, then tried to invoke some of the manners that my parents had taught me. "I'm sorry, Dina. I was...just surprised, is all," I said, apologizing.

She seemed placated as she asked, "Well, aren't you going to let me in?"

For fuck what?

"Uh, yeah...sorry," I mumbled as I stepped aside, so that she could enter.

I watched her as she glanced around, taking in the apartment, though I wasn't sure why. She'd been here before when we'd been seeing each other, and it wasn't like anything had changed, and then she said as much.

"Looks like nothing's changed."

I gave my apartment a quick glance before my eyes found hers. "Nope," I agreed. "I'm not much for decorating and shit, so...everything's pretty much the same as since the last time that you were here."

"Hmm," was her only reply as she continued to look around.

Finally, at the end of my patience-because I really wanted to call Lyric-I asked, "What are you doing here, Dina?"

I didn't think that I was being rude, but what I'd told Jackson was true; I hadn't given this woman a second thought in years. What we'd had back then had been a casual fuck and nothing more. So, yeah, I was surprised as hell that she was here.