Jolene
The smell of garlic and tomatoes flooded my nostrils.
Damn, maybe I am hungry.
Companionable silence stretched across the living room. I guess one of the perks of being friends as long as we have, we didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with idle chitchat.
“Dakota?”
He jerked his head up from whatever it was he was chopping on the kitchen counter.
“Hmmm?”
“How long do you think it was going on?”
Sighing, he set down the knife and stepped around the island.
“I dunno. I like to think it couldn’t have been very long because it hurts less that way, but I guess it could have been happening for years.”
He walked over to the sofa.
“Why would she accept your proposal? And why would he ask me to marry him if they wanted each other?” I questioned, unable to disguise the pain in my voice.
Ruffling my hair, he shook his head. “I wish I had an answer for that, Loo. Maybe for the thrill? The adrenaline?”
Surely, they didn’t tear our fuckin’ world apart over some goddamn adrenaline.
“Adrenaline?”
“Yeah. Jace is an adrenaline junkie. You kinda have to be in our line of work.”
Adrenaline from fighting fire isn’t the same as nailing your girl’s bestie, Dak.
“I know, I know, it’s not the same thing,” he retorted, seemingly reading my thoughts. “I’m just saying he likes a good thrill. As far as Cassie is concerned, I have no idea. Hell, I have no idea if that’s why he did it either, I’m just spit balling.” He sighed.
“But how is that a thrill? Hurting people?” I whined.
“Because they don’t see it that way. They see it as it’s forbidden, and the thrill comes from doing something they shouldn’t be and then there’s the skirting around, so they don’t get caught,” he explained. “The rush of it is as rewarding as the outcome.”
He walked back into the kitchen.
“I’ve never experienced a rush that made me lose me fuckin’ mind,” I announced. “I hope she doesn’t think she’s getting’ a price. I had to use my fuckin’ vibrator to make myself cum after we were done sometimes!”
Dakota dropped the spoon he was holding.
Well, well, apparently the whiskey has decided to remind me I drank a fuckton of it.”
“You had to use… okay, then,” he stammered.
Now would be an excellent time to shut the fuck up, .
“Sorry, too much information. Whiskey makes me a motormouth.”
“You’re fine. I’m sorry you had to DIY in your love life,” he responded, choking back a laugh.
“I’m glad you’re amused,” I snapped.
He stopped stirring the sauce, complete and utter seriousness blanketing his face.
“No, I meant it. I’m sorry you’ve never had an experience where he had you climbin’ the goddamn walls.”
Heat unfurled deep inside me.
Lena, this is Dakota. Go to bed and wake up tomorrow to whatever fresh hell awaits.
Or you could play with fire…
“Make me climb the walls.”