Page 10 of The Obvious Check
Hate that he gives me hope I don’t deserve. Hope that he could save me, but I’ve been down that road before, and the last time I believed someone could do that, I ended up here.
The crowd cheers a little louder, and my body moves on autopilot.
Smile, spin, sway.
Every night plays out the same, but I let myself have this moment withhim.A stolen fantasy that he doesn’t know about. Never will.
In my mind, I pretend that maybe it’s him I’m dancing for. His gaze, dark and hungry, follows my every move like he owns me. I imagine his hands on my waist, his lips finding mine as he kissesme slowly at first, only for the desperation to build with every touch.
I’d let him press me against the wall and he’d whisper promises against my skin, swearing to take me away from this place and let it all burn behind us.
What a stupid, ridiculous dream.
Am I smiling?
It sure feels like it.
Maybe after I finish this nightmare shift, he'll be waiting for me at the diner. That he'll somehow see past my beat-up sweatshirt and leggings so threadbare you could read through them. That he'll love the real me hiding underneath all this bullshit, and I'll finally get to kiss that infuriating smirk right off his gorgeous face. It's a beautiful lie I tell myself, and for three minutes and forty-five seconds while this song plays, I almost believe it.
It's not going to happen, I know that deep in my bones, but all I have left these days are these pathetic little dreams, so why not lose myself in them?
They're better than my reality, after all. And reality is a cold bitch who never stops reminding me exactly how far I've fallen.
“Hey, Sav,” Luke says as I leave the backstage area. It’s late and the bar is closed, but my heart still races, concerned he’s going to ask me to do something. “Are you still looking for a place to stay?”
I blow out my breath and grip tightly onto my bag. As if I needed to be reminded that I’m homeless and that jerk of a realtor took my money, or that when I came here and naively believed Luke when he said the loan he gave me had no stipulations. I thought my luck was finally turning. He spoke to Daniel and got me an apartment, but it was only after a fewmonths that I realized I’d been duped. Luke was adding interest to my initial loan. Doubling it by the day and Daniel kept telling me the water and electric bills were increasing even though I wasn’t there. The bills piled up until I couldn’t afford it, which is how I ended up in my car again.
“Um, yeah. Seeing a few apartments soon,” I lie.
“Still not sure why you won’t stay with me.”
My blood runs cold.Stay with him?Being stuck here is punishment enough. Imagine living with Luke? There’d be no escape. No line he wouldn’t cross. No debt he wouldn’t cash in.
“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” I say, trying to be nice about it. I don’t want to get on his bad side, after all. I’ve seen what happens to girls who do, and I can’t afford those kinds of medical bills.
“You’re not asking. I’m offering. You can subsidize your rent by doing chores around the house.”
My flesh crawls at the suggestion. I can only imagine what kind of ‘chores’ he’d want me to do.
“Hell, I might even lower the interest rate on your loan.”
An enticing offer, but I see through it. It’s all part of his plan. Help me get an apartment, then offer for me to stay with him after I can’t afford the rent. He wants to own every part of me, and I’m doing my best to resist it.
“I’m good.” I wave him off, heading toward the front entrance. “My friend’s letting me stay with her. She said I can stay as long as I need.”
It was a lie. A flimsy one, at that, but he doesn’t need to know.
Luke takes another step forward, close enough that I can smell the beer on his breath. “Where does this friend live?”
“Close by,” I answer, opening the door, and flick my hair over my shoulder.Don’t react. Don’t let him see the way your muscles lock up when he’s around.“Gotta go,” I quip, forcing the pep into my voice again. “See you later, Luke.”
And then—slam. The door shuts hard behind me, rattling on its hinges as I power-walk to my car. My chest is still tight, and my hands are shaking, but I refuse to look back.
I never do.
As I park my car for the night, I consider texting Chloe and seeing if I can get a burger, but I’m too late. The diner’s closed and she’s probably already heading home. Ignoring the grumbles in my stomach, I lock the car and reach into the back seat, grabbing the blackout curtains I picked up from the thrift store a while ago. They’re nothing fancy, just some old fabric with suction cups attached to the corners, but they do the job. I stick them up one by one, covering each window until the world outside is completely shut out.
The small, enclosed space makes it feel a little more private, and a little more mine.
