Chapter Seven
“Ghost Rider”
H ere’s the thing about conformity… To a certain extent, it’s primal. Part of human nature is to bond with your fellow species.
Animals do it. They flock, or pack, tribe or clowder. And while human beings are evolved enough to value individual identity, we still possess this baser instinct to bond with others. To be accepted by the group.
Even though I knew I’d never be like my mother and father, or my sister and her husband, I still found myself on the outside looking in… Wondering if maybe there was some way I could make them accept me, even just a little.
That was why my relationship with Rey was so important. Being with her made me a real person. Not only in my family’s eyes, but in my own too. It was like I’d finally found something that brought me out of the shadows.
A relationship with a beautiful girl, one who I could bring home to my family. It was just what I needed. For that reason more than anything else, I could not accept that Rey was sleeping with someone else. It just didn’t fit the picture I’d created of us in my head.
As far as I was concerned, everything had been fine until she started fucking that guy.
I mean, who even was that asshole?? Where did he come from??
I was in an emotional tailspin. It was insufferable. I had to do something. I needed to know more .
So I fell into my default mode and went back to following her. All of my spare time was spent watching Rey, stewing in frustrated consternation. The obsession had become stronger than my feelings for her ever were, and that only served to piss me off more.
Then one night, when I was outside watching her window from the street, someone familiar showed up. It was the guy .
That asshole who’d been fucking my girlfriend. The one who ruined everything .
I watched him enter her building, barely waiting two minutes before I was climbing up her fire escape to spy on them through her bedroom window again.
He looked to be about my age. White guy, maybe twenty-three to twenty-five, with dark hair and these pretty-boy dimples I just wanted to smash repeatedly with my fists.
Not ten minutes into him arriving, they were already getting naked. I could barely fucking see, I was so irate.
This is what she was blowing me off for? Mediocre sex with some random fuckboy?
Really, Rey?? Him??
What the fuck is so special about him?!
I watched them with every muscle in my body stiffening. I didn’t exactly want to see what they were doing together, but I couldn’t make my eyes look away from his hands on her. The way he pushed her legs apart and tore open the condom wrapper with his teeth before rolling it onto his…
Fuck , I felt sick. I was dizzy and sweaty, and I had to grip the railing to make sure I didn’t fall off the goddamn fire escape.
Who are you? I wondered, jaw clamped as I watched his hips move, pumping his cock into her, over and over and over .
Lost in a haze of strife and internal doubt, I couldn’t move.
My breathing shallowed, though my heart was leaping up my throat.
I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t . I was in some sort of trance, physically unable to drag my eyes away from the prick who’d stolen my girlfriend.
The pretty boy with the chiseled body and the silky hair…
Ruining my life without a care in the world.
The next thing I knew, they were done, and he was leaving.
Pfftt. Pathetic. I lasted like four times longer.
Snapping out of it, I made a quick decision to climb down from the fire escape and jog over to my bike. As soon as the fucker came out of her building, without a moment’s hesitation, I followed him.
He drove a black Mercedes AMG… I’m sure that made him feel superior to a lot of people.
Having a car, especially a nice one, is a flex in New York City, due to how expensive it is.
He was probably some rich boy, a theory that was confirmed when he drove that thing all the way up to Harlem and parked it in front of a townhouse.
He hopped out of the car and went inside, like the obvious narcissist he was.
As if I wasn’t smoldering enough already, when I strolled inconspicuously over to his car, I found it parked in front of a sign that read City Government Permit Parking Only .
What the fuck?? Either he works for the city, or he’s so entitled that he just parks wherever…
But sure enough, there was a City of New York Gov parking pass sticker on the inside of his windshield. Plus, he had special license plates.
Bemused, I peered at his building. Who the hell was this guy? He didn’t look old enough to be working for the government… Unless he was an intern? Or maybe someone from the mayor’s office?
I was beyond confused and itching for details. The dude clearly had money, and some sort of important job, two things I didn’t. We were comfortable because of my grandfather, but that didn’t exactly equal townhouses on St. Nicholas Ave.
A ping on my phone snapped me out of my thoughts. It was an alert for a DoorDash order in my area. One Michelangelo Russo had ordered from the Just Salad on Columbus, to be delivered to—
I blinked at the address on the screen, my gaze lifting to the building before me.
119 St. Nicholas and 126th.
Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle…
My lips twitched with a pure, serendipitous thrill as I accepted the delivery order.
The entire way to pick up the food, my head was swirling.
I wasn’t positive that the person I was about to deliver to was the guy .
It seemed too good to be true. Still, even getting into the building would be helpful.
I began concocting a story, making up things to say in the event that there was a doorman or something.
With Michelangelo’s crispy chicken poblano in tow, I whipped Raph back into Harlem, all the while fizzling with nervous excitement.
I couldn’t stop wondering if this could be him…
Michelangelo. I really hoped it wasn’t. The fuckface who’d been screwing my girlfriend didn’t deserve a cool name like Michelangelo .
The silliest of the Ninja Turtles, but an integral part of the team. He’s a party dude. Can’t blame him for being the jester of the group.
Scoffing at my thoughts, I turned onto his block, contemplating what I would do if it was him. Would I confront him for sleeping with Rey? Maybe punch him in the face?
I wasn’t sure, but I was allowing the adrenaline to fuel me. It felt good. Something about this was a hell of a lot more exciting than my usual stalking game. Maybe it was the idea of revenge…
Sucking in a breath, I grabbed the takeout bag and stomped up the stoop. When I checked the intercom system at the door, it had only one name… Russo .
Son of a bitch… He owns the whole place?? How??
Lifting the visor on my helmet, I pressed the call button.
And the next thing I knew, the door was buzzing.
I pushed through the front door, stopping at a second.
A thin pane of glass allowed me to see inside the extremely fancy apartment of opulent decor and wide-open space.
Just… a massive townhouse, indicative of old New York. Old money.
That toolbag can’t possibly own this place.
But sure enough, there he was. Padding over, barefoot and bare-chested, wearing only gray sweatpants, his dark hair the same manner of tousled it had been when he left Rey’s.
My teeth ground together as he pulled open the door, wrath clouding my brain and tightening muscles all over my body. I felt pretty confident that I might attack him…
Until he smiled.
“Hey, thanks so much,” the dude rumbled politely.
His voice was deep and sort of raspy, those few words spoken in the tone and perfect diction of an actor on Broadway or something. He certainly looked the part…
Blinking myself out of whatever had just frozen me solid, I extended the arm holding his food, and he took it. Our eyes met through the small opening in my helmet, and it was the strangest, most insane thing I’d ever felt… As if my lungs were shriveling.
All the air just whooshed right out of me.
His head cocked, and it took me a moment to realize I was still holding the bag. His blue eyes fell to my hand, fingertips exposed by my fingerless gloves.
“Sorry,” I croaked, barely audible as I released the bag quickly.
He chuckled, then hummed teasingly, “No harm, Ghost Rider.” The dimples were even more intense up close. “Have a good night.”
What the fuck is wrong with you?? I remember thinking to myself. Do something! Call him out! Judo kick him in the face!
But I just cleared my throat and muttered, “You too.”
Then spun and stormed out of his stupid townhouse, kicking myself for being such a fucking loser. I totally bitched out. And I hated myself for it.
Waiting until my bike’s engine roared to life, I growled out loud. “What the hell was that?!”
What a goddamn waste! You were supposed to fuck him up! He screwed your girlfriend and all you can do is stare at the guy?!
Pathetic.
Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well that night.
All I could think about was Michelangelo Russo …
The dude who’d stolen Rey from me and then had the nerve to smile in my face like everything was fucking fine .
Like he wasn’t some rich daddy’s boy living in a two-story townhouse, ordering food and looking like that and giving me stupid fucking nicknames.
Who does that??
He didn’t know me. We weren’t pals. As far as he knew, I didn’t exist, and that was what carried me into the next few weeks.
By all accounts, I was done following Rey. I’d moved on to her blue-eyed fuckboy.
Unfortunately, stalking Michelangelo was infinitely more frustrating than anything I’d experienced with Rey, or anyone else, for that matter. He was impossible to get a read on. Every time I thought I’d figured him out in some way, he’d switch things up and throw a wrench in my judgements.