Stalking the Dancer || 18+

Part Eight - Bitch Tears

It's been a week since I moved a good amount of my shit into the guestroom down the hall from Dorothy. It helped that she'd already destroyed my apartment and, by the time I'd cleaned it, I was ready for any excuse to get out of there for a while. Dorothy's a damn good excuse.

I haven't let myself invade her privacy which has been pretty brutal on my self-control. I'm not sleeping much knowing that she's down the hall by herself and I'm also not working much knowing she's here, at home, while I'm at the garage during the day. Not to mention Ray's been hovering like a fucking helicopter anytime he's in the house, I swear the bastard hides behind corners waiting for his chance to make her uncomfortable, which makes me pissed. I've barely laid a hand on her since I held her on the couch and it feels like my skin is burning off; I need to feel her. 

Yesterday morning I caught her twirling through the kitchen, hobbling through the turns on her cast. I still don't know why she's got that thing on, but I don't think she's supposed to be putting weight on it. Yet there she was, fucking mesmerizing, her waves flowing around her shoulders while she made all of us breakfast. I can't think of any kidnapping stories where the victim willingly cooked for their captor, so things could definitely be going worse. She cooks healthy, though- I s'pose nobody's perfect, even her. 

Everything she does brings my mind back to the single question she won't answer: Why the hell is she so comfortable here? I'm desperate to know everything about her. I could go back to her apartment and pick through her things, she would never know. Alright, so she'd probably figure it out. She's so fucking perceptive and my skin itches at being apart from her. I want her to know how dysfunctional she makes me, I want her to decipher it the way she does everything else around her. I want her to infect every part of my filthy life with the tenacious spark she carries in her chest. I can't stop the physical reaction I have to her and at this point, I think it'll be the death of me. A tiny little lady infecting me like a terminal parasite. 

God, it's so twisted. So perfect for me.

It's Friday, which means Ray will be at the bar long after the last call. I may have gotten an early start at the shop in anticipation of his longer work hours, which will help me get off early enough to catch Dorothy before dinner. She tends to lock herself in her room right around the time Ray heads to the Oake but she never misses dinner before he goes. Maybe she is afraid of me, but my gut tells me that she may just prefer the easy way out of living down the hall from me. 

"Shithead, you better be doin' this work for free." Lee's voice echoes around me and the wrench in my left hand clatters to the ground from where I squat on the floor next to his bike. "You wrecked my place right before my mom came to visit." His reaction is almost laughable, almost. He helped Ray take Dorothy from me and that wasn't a sin I would allow to go unpunished, he's lucky I only hit his living room. "Yeah, yeah just get the fuck out. We can't talk about this here." I'm not trying to catch a charge while I'm at work because Lee stopped by to run his big ass mouth. "No way am I leaving you alone with her, you'll probably scratch her!" He's such a goddamned idiot.

I have to pinch the bridge of my nose to stop the throbbing that rests in between my eyes, "I've been workin' on your bike alone for the past two hours, don't you think I'd have parked it on a landmine by now if I wanted to see your bitch tears?" Grumbled insults go in one ear and out the other as I bend to grab my wrench so I can get back to work on this old-ass Harley. 

"So, you told any of the guys here about your little crush?" It's low-hanging fruit, bringing up Dorothy, and he seems to love every second of it. My expression must've been enough because his laughter rings through the quiet shop, "Well, where are they all, anyway? Company bonding retreat?" I feel the scowl etching my face as I turn on my stool to face him, "Skull's grandma died, they're at her funeral."