12. Ember
Ember
Sitting at the little round table, it wasn't long before I popped my shoes off and pulled my legs up to sit cross-legged. My chai was almost gone, and I was already wishing I’d taken smaller sips. The drink itself had been delicious, but this one tasted especially sweet.
At first, I was going to deny the drink and the man who’d bought it for me, but then I realized how perfect an opportunity it was to think about someone other than Silas.
In some twisted way, I was aware that accepting the offer and giving out my information would upset him—that was the whole reason I’d gone through with it.
Plus, he had manners, striking up a conversation before hitting on me.
That was how women should be courted, not by being trapped in a corner, naked where others watched.
Silas could probably take some notes from him.
But then again, maybe I didn’t want him too.
I picked up my phone to block the thought. I wasn’t doing this to myself again. I refused to think about that or the man responsible for the ache within me, especially after what he pulled with the flowers. I wasn't his, and he needed to learn some boundaries.
Apparently, that was a common theme tonight, seeing how I also had to rein Kinsley in from going full party mode.
The guys were out at some practice thing, and she had scored tickets to some new bar that was close.
Fortunately, I had zero interest in going and had convinced her to make drinks at home with me.
My phone buzzed in my hand, and I looked down at the text notification. Whoever that guy was worked fast, considering he walked out the door about ten minutes ago.
I raised my eyebrows at the message that had just been delivered from an unknown number. As I stared down at it, I somehow knew it wasn’t from the guy in the coffee shop.
TWO.
What?
Taking the last bite of the croissant, I looked around, like the person texting me was somewhere in the room with me. Letting my fingers glide over the screen, I settled on the most generic response I could think of and hoped that my gut was lying to me.
Wrong number.
Hitting send, I looked up from my phone to watch the people on the sidewalk pass the window.
A few children skipped by that were clearly related and in the middle of some sort of tag game.
A few seconds later, a teenage couple who seemed to be in the early stages of dating came into view.
I watched as she made a move to hold his hand and a light shade of pink blossomed across his cheeks.
I smiled at that, at the innocence of what love could be.
Pulling my headphones out of my bag, I pushed them into my ears and turned on my music.
By the time I hit the sidewalk, I was humming along with Chokehold by Sleep Token.
Each step seemed to loosen my shoulders, and soon, I was feeling pretty good.
I timed my movements to fall in line with each beat, turning the walk home into a game.
By the time I reached my house, I had just finished the last song on my playlist. Perfect timing.
Clicking the side button, I waited for the screen to turn on so I could shut off the music.
Three messages came through during my walk, the music somehow masking the notification sounds.
I don't have the wrong number, but I had the wrong idea. Nine wasn't enough for you to learn. Because apparently you still feel the need to give out your number.
I scanned over each message, the oxygen in my lungs disappearing. I tried to function, to breathe, but my brain refused to process what I was reading.
It was Silas again.
But this time, he had been watching me. He knew what happened, what I had done at the coffee shop.
Throwing open my front door, I beelined straight toward my room.
I wasn’t going to reply. I wasn’t going to let him know he had succeeded in making me flustered.
In fact, he’d done nothing besides solidify how I felt about him.
Stomping across the floor, I flung my closet door open and yanked out the shortest skirt I owned.
I wasn’t the one who needed to learn. He did.
The skirt I grabbed was gifted to me last year, jet black leather with a zipper crotch.
I’d worn it once to a bachelorette party, then stored it, knowing it barely surpassed my moral dress code.
Tonight, he had ripped that inhibition in half.
Stripping out of my pants, I shoved the skirt up my hips with violent purpose and reached for the matching top.
The corset-like front was perfect, a message that I knew he would receive loud and clear. Fuck you, Silas.
I worked a closing shift tomorrow which meant I had plenty of time for what I was about to do. This wasn’t just about the text he’d sent. This was about proving he was not the boss of me. If he wanted to watch me, I might as well do something interesting.
I sat down at my vanity and brushed out my hair, maximizing every inch of volume. Stretching over to grab my make-up bag, I chose a crimson lip stain, like the color of blood. Taking the cap off, I traced over my top lip and then popped my mouth a few times before smiling into the mirror.
This was going to be fun.
When I finished getting ready, I headed to the kitchen where Kinsley was dancing with a half-cut lime in one hand and a salt shaker in the other. Stepping up next to her, I snatched the tequila bottle off the counter. “Still want to go out?”
Kinsley sighed in disappointment, turning toward me, “What—” Her eyes moved across my body, bulging as they hit different parts of my outfit.
After a few seconds of pure glitching, she reset and looked me up and down.
Taking my hand, she spun me and whistled.
“Who are you, and what have you done with Ember?”
A grin slid over my face. “I’m the girl taking you out to the bar tonight.”
Her response was a high-pitched squeal that bounced off the kitchen walls. Covering my ears, I motioned toward her bedroom.
“I’m leaving soon, with or without you.” Then for added drama, I took a long swig straight from the neck of the bottle. She gawked at me before jumping up and down. Then, she opened the cabinet and pulled out two small glasses. I took them from her without hesitation, pouring each of us a shot.
Kinsley’s eyes widened with happiness as we clinked our cups together. Knocking hers back, she set the empty glass down on the counter before bolting to her room. “You better not change your mind! Give me twenty minutes!”
Pouring myself another shot, I watched her close the door. There was no way I was changing my mind. I planned on making whatever choices I wanted tonight, and he could sit there and watch every single one.
With that thought, I replied to him.
I guess that means you didn’t do it for me, huh? Maybe the next guy can.
Taking another swig, I felt the warmth from the alcohol as it settled into my chest.