“If you hurt her,” she said, “I won’t take this to the police. I’ll just come over and kill you myself.”
“Noted.”
She turned to me. “You good?”
I nodded.
“The stage is yours.” She followed Dorian with her eyes as she left. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”
She re-entered the elevator, closed the apartment door behind her, and clicked the button.
“You have to pull the gate,” Dorian said.
She yanked it. It unfurled, then caught.
“You have to yank it,” Dorian added unhelpfully. “Hard.”
She pulled until it clicked into place. The elevator finally kicked into gear, humming. As it lowered her, her face vanishing in the small circular window, Ophelia flipped Dorian a parting bird.
Now, we were alone. In his apartment.
“I like her,” Dorian said.
I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, so I held out the glass of water.
“I’m done with this,” I told him.
He took the glass and set the water next to the toy gun down on the kitchen table. Hands now free, I took off my beanie. Then I unknotted my belt and dropped my coat, letting the heavy material fall to the floor.
It was worth it for the way Dorian’s eyes got wide as he took me in. Skin tight, black latex hugged every inch of me, leaving very little to the imagination. For a second, I was pleased with myself. I’d shocked him speechless.
“So,” he said.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Did I say you could talk?”
“No.”
“Yet you’re doing it again. Disrespectful boy.” I pushed passed him. I began to take a slow stroll around his apartment. I was trying to give offbadass vibes, but the truth was, my nerves were rattling around inside of me and I needed to walk them off.
Out of the edge of my vision, I saw Dorian follow me. He took a seat in the living room on his emerald green, plush couch.
I sized up his space. “Look at this apartment. Full of…stuff.” I lifted a worn, thick book from his shelf. “What even is this?”
No response from him. I turned to face him.
“Hello? Can you hear me?”
He tilted his head. “Can I talk? Can I not talk? I’m confused.”
I pressed my lips together. “You can talk when I ask you a question.”
He nodded to the book in my hand. “That’s a first edition ofFrankenstein.”
“You have a thing for mad scientists?”
“I have a thing for monsters.”
I continued scanning his apartment. Looking for reasons to hate him, and finding none. Hyper aware of his eyes, watching me. Waiting formeto make a move.
