By morning Dom is sporting a large purple bruise on his cheek that he claims looks 'fucking sick'.
I serve us both cereal that we eat cross legged on my bed, my laptop open before us as we browse cartoons to watch with breakfast. I'm too nervous to bring up the events of last night, even though it could mean confirmation.
Once again, our interaction had been ambiguous. I'd failed to tell him in explicit terms what I wanted, but he claimed to share my sentiment anyway. What had he understood about my hesitation?
Now, every time he looks at me, nervousness strikes down all my confidence. I'd had the perfect chance, and I'd screwed it up. Nothing can be done now, in the harsh morning light, where I feel too vulnerable to even make eye contact. I'll take him somewhere dim and heavy and do it properly.
Our episode of CatDog ends, our bowls now empty. He stretches upward, popping his spine in the process.
"Colson and I are crashing a bar later with some friends," he tells me, pulling his skirt down when it rides up. "Bring Maya and meet us there, yeah?"
A bar, perfect.
Or maybe wildly inappropriate. My lack of experience appalls me.
"Time?"
"'Round ten."
"Cool," I say.
"Cool," he echoes, rising from the bed with his cereal bowl.
He's halfway to the box on the counter when his phone chimes.
"Who's it?" he asks me.
I peek at his illuminated screen. "Kells?"
"Oh, Colson. What's he want?"
I frown. "To meet you in the studio at one."
"Probably got summat for a new song," he says. "Tell him I'll be there. My passcode is 6759."
My frown deepens as I write the text. Why is there always something around the corner, just waiting to take him from me?
He hunts around for his creepers, discarded over the side of the bed at some point last night. I stand to take his bowl as he comes for his phone.
"Sorry to rush off," he says with a cutesy pout. "The cartoon was well fun. Dogs and cats?"
I follow him to the front door. "CatDog."
"Right. CatDog." He grips me by the bicep as he leans in to kiss my cheek. "Thanks for the heroic rescue. I'm swooning."
I snort. "How could you not?"
He lets himself out, pausing outside my door. "Guess this means we're even?"
"I guess we are."
"Right," he agrees with a wink, starting down the hallway. "Love you, Marley."
Then he's gone.
YOU ARE READING
Knickers
FanfictionFor the final year of Warped Tour, Marley is dared to steal an artist's underwear off their tour bus. She hadn't been betting on getting caught. Thankfully, the elusive Yungblud is pretty nice about it.
