Chapter 24
Felix
I carefully lock my bedroom door, wincing at the clicking sound it makes.
I know I’m being paranoid, but any suspicious activity puts me at risk.
Father’s been fuming over recent election polls all day, and his aides have been zooming about the mansion, frantically speaking to pollsters and media analysts on the phone.
This is good and bad. Good in the sense that nobody is really paying attention to me. Bad because Father is fuming and usually needs to berate somebody when he’s in that state. As long as it’s one of his aides and not me, then we’re good.
The duffel bag in my closet still has the boots I need for the evening. I dig a little deeper, find the old chest of things I keep hidden, and pull out my fishnet stockings, leather shorts, thong, and mesh crop top.
Tonight, Torren is taking me to a bar frequented by the Hellcats, and I want to look the part.
I also want to look really fucking hot.
I tear off my clothes, don the outfit for the evening, then pull on oversized sweats and sneakers.
A peek out the door confirms the coast is clear, so I dart down the stairs, duffel bag in hand, and scurry past my father’s office.
He’s still screaming at his aides, and I thank my lucky stars for the distraction as I call an Uber and scamper to the hedges bordering the wrought iron fence.
Security is still posted at the gate, so I maneuver between a natural parting of the hedges and shimmy up the fence. My feet hit the concrete beyond the gate just as the Uber pulls up, and I bolt into the car like a fucking Soviet defector.
Normally, I’d take my bike, but I want to get away from the monster stat.
“Big tip if you get the hell out of here as fast as possible.”
His foot slams the gas, and we’re on our way to the Patch.
I breathe a sigh of relief as we leave the affluent side of Belmont and cross the train tracks into the Patch.
Electricity courses through my veins as I reel down from this covert operation to go out with my “friend.”
I’m pissed that I have to do this just to go out, but I also love how rebellious it feels.
The meds are totally out of my system, and I feel alive again, drawn to moments of defiant independence like a moth to a light.
The ghost of Torren’s caress at Cafe Bomberino’s makes my hand tingle, and my lips curl into a little smile.
The gesture didn’t feel friendly. It felt like Torren taking a step toward me—reaching across the table to offer the one thing I’ve wanted since I found her lifeless body.
Help.
Comfort.
Maybe even a hug.
My heart still longs for Torren, but I also really need connection, even if it’s platonic—someone to convince me that I’m not completely alone in this world.
The Uber rounds the corner, revealing Torren’s shop. I whip out my phone and type in the very generous tip. “I appreciate it.”
He comes to a stop and gives me a little nod in the mirror. With the duffel over my shoulder and my heart on my damn sleeve, I knock on the front entrance of Torren’s shop.
I stand there, waiting for him to open up, but he doesn’t.
My stomach drops.
A million thoughts run through my mind, making my stomach twist into painful knots. I knock again, but I’m still met with nothing.
Now, I’m mad.
I stomp around the corner to the side street that his bedroom window overlooks. The light in his bedroom is on, which gives me a little glimmer of hope. Once I’m beneath the window, I can see Torren looking into a mirror, talking to himself. Sternly.
He points at the mirror, interrogating his own reflection like a dad grilling a dude about what his intentions are with his daughter.
I’d laugh if Torren didn’t look so pained while he did it. I want to tell him to cut himself some slack. It’s the weirdest feeling in the world—wanting to defend someone from…themselves.
He scrubs his hands over his face, then rests his head on the mirror, looking down at the floor and mumbling.
I can’t take it anymore—he needs to get out of his head. I do a repeat performance of chucking pebbles at the window. Torren startles, then approaches, opening the window and sticking his head out.
“Is this the only way to let you know when I’m here?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.
“Why didn’t you just knock?” he asks.
“I did. Twice.”
Torren’s eyes open wide before looking embarrassed and rubbing the back of his head.
“Sorry. I’ll be right down.”
“You need a doorbell!”
“Car shops don’t have doorbells,” he says as he shuts the window.
I make my way to the front entrance and find him waiting for me, still looking embarrassed. “Sorry.”
“No worries.” We stand there, looking at each other, not really knowing what to do.
I think we both want to touch each other, but neither of us wants to overstep.
Fuck it. I give him a quick hug, then ask, “Would it be okay if I used your bathroom to get ready? I just need to take off these dumbass sweats and change my shoes.”
Torren shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant after the hug, but failing. “Yeah, whatever. What are you planning on wearing?”
A lady never reveals her secrets, darling. “Nothing special. Is it okay if I use the bathroom upstairs?”
Torren motions to the spiral staircase. “Be my guest.”
And, with that, I saunter up the stairs to get ready for my big reveal.
I’ll give you a hint. It’s my ass.
Torren
Felix disappears into my bedroom, leaving me standing on the shop floor.
This is the part when I don’t panic. We already had coffee, and this is basically the same thing—just a different venue.
I stride back over to my workstation to shine my tools. While waiting for Felix to arrive, I gave them all a good washing until my brain turned into a tornado, and I ran upstairs to talk myself down in the mirror.
I drizzle some mineral oil onto the cloth and begin to shine the first tool. Normally, I try to be slow and methodical, but I’m treating this socket wrench like it hawked a loogie on my jacket.
Jacket.
The socket wrench thuds onto the table, and I make a beeline for my jacket, examining the leather.
Looks like shit.
My feet echo on the concrete floor of the shop as I cross the distance into the kitchenette. I turn on the water and let the sound lull me into a relaxed state. With my eyes closed and my attention focused on the sound, I take three deep breaths, exhaling slowly on each one.
It doesn’t do fuck all to calm me down.
I snag a towel and drench it in warm water before examining my coat beneath the light. There are a few stains here and there, and I do my best to clean them off.
Felix descends the stairs, the sound of his feet hitting the metal steps pulling me away from my task. The spiral staircase is situated to the left of the kitchen entrance, giving me a view of the combat boot that comes into view.
Then another.
I drop my jacket to the floor when a pair of fishnet-clad legs emerge
As Felix makes his way downstairs, more of his delicious body reveals itself.
The way his ass looks in his tiny black leather shorts makes me drool.
His lean, tight body, completely visible beneath this black, mesh top, nearly knocks me off my feet.
But, it’s his little smirk that finally confirms I am thoroughly, 100%, without a shadow of a doubt, fucked.
This gender-bending look is ringing my bi-bell like it’s Sunday morning mass, and I’m about ready to be born-again.
He saunters into the kitchen with an innocent look plastered on his face—like he isn’t wearing the hottest, sluttiest outfit I’ve ever seen.
Like I’m not helplessly standing here with a dick so hard it could crush diamonds.
No, Felix just cocks his head to the side, his green eyes dazzling, and asks, “Ready?”
Ready for what? Burying my face in your ass?
Felix picks up my jacket and hands it to me. “You dropped this.”
I take the jacket, put it on, and rush past him, saying, “Let’s head out.”
Once I’m on my bike, I slide on a helmet and turn to find Felix right beside me, making me jump. He moves like a cat. Felix slides a helmet on, and I realize that he isn’t wearing a jacket.
“Won’t you be cold?” I ask.
Felix shrugs. “Yeah, but the hoodie doesn’t go with the look. I’ll survive.”
Well, I won’t. The idea of other people seeing Felix in this outfit shouldn’t make me jealous.
“Hold on.” I run to my bedroom and find an older leather jacket I used to wear. When I return, I give it to Felix. “Wear this.”
“Really?” he asks with a level of excitement that is fucking adorable.
“Yeah, you’ll be cold.”
He slips it on, and if I thought I was a goner because of the booty shorts, Felix wearing my jacket solidifies it.
Deep breaths.
He zips up the jacket, and we board the bike. His hands wrap around my waist, and my hand instinctively presses against his, ensuring he’s secured as I start the bike and speed off.
I’m a friend who’s taking another friend out for a good time. That’s all.