“Huh,” she said.
It was one of those layeredhuhs. Ahuhthat was holding back.
I squinted at her. “What?”
Ophelia shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just cute how much you two message. He’s growing on you.”
I scoffed. “Yeah. Like mold.”
Another dubiousuh-huhfrom the couch.
I added, “He’s my emotional support, self-loathing cis man.”
“Word to that. So are you going to squeeze hot sauce on him or something?”
“Oh, no, we were just…talking.”
Hearing it out loud, I realized what Ophelia was saying. She was right. I was supposed to be dominating him. Instead, I was…getting comfortable.
Too comfortable.
And we all know how badly things ended when I got comfortable.
Head in the game, Dove.
My phone buzzed again.
DoriNYC:
You were correct. That’s a sauce drawer.
DoriNYC:
You’re either brilliant or insane.
I pressed my lips together. I turned on myDomme Dovevoice.
Me:
Is that any way to talk to your mistress?
DoriNYC:
You’re either brilliant or insane…ma’am.
What a little brat. I left him on read and snuggled back up with Ophelia. We watched the rest of the movie and ate our big bowl of popcorn until it was nothing but kernels. Ophelia said goodnight, and she and Spud shuffled into her room, closing the door.
I went to my room and crawled into bed, but I couldn’t sleep.
I tried my favorite coping mechanism. I pulled mybattered copy ofDamaged Heartsoff the shelf and turned to a well-worn section—chapter fifteen:
The little bell above the door jingled as I burst into Poe’s record shop.
The sound startled Behemoth, who leapt off a shelf with a yowl. The black cat with jagged teeth scurried out of the room, shooting me a glare as it went.
Even the cat didn’t want me here.
“We’re closed,” Poe’s voice called out.
