Chapter 6: The Door Opens

I don’t know how long I waited before the door cracked open.

Time lost all meaning. The only thing that mattered was the sound of footsteps in the hallway, the hope that maybe, just maybe, tonight would end differently.

Light spilled in, then faded.

The hallway light cast a golden glow across the floor, then disappeared as the door swung shut. My heart pounded in my chest.

A man’s steady footsteps approached.

His shoes clicked against the hardwood, slow and deliberate. I held my breath, waiting for him to speak.

He stopped.

For a moment, the room was silent except for my ragged breathing. I could feel his eyes on me, taking in the mess I’d become.

He seemed to be looking me over.

I shifted on the sofa, suddenly self-conscious. My hair was a wreck, my makeup smeared. But I didn’t care—not tonight.

My clothes were already a mess—barely anything left to cover me.

I tugged the blanket tighter, but it didn’t help. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and more than a little reckless.

The man didn’t move for a long time.

He stood there, arms crossed, watching me. I wondered what he was thinking—if he pitied me, or wanted me, or both.

Maybe it was just my imagination, but I sensed he was a little annoyed.

He exhaled, the sound sharp in the quiet room. I braced myself for a lecture, or maybe a proposition.

I didn’t think much of it. I grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the sofa, straddling him out of sheer instinct. “You’re so slow… I’m about to explode…”

My voice was breathy, desperate. I didn’t care how I sounded. I just wanted to feel something—anything—other than heartbreak.

Caught off guard, he sat stiffly as I climbed onto his lap.

He didn’t push me away, but he didn’t pull me closer either. I could feel his heartbeat under my palms, steady and strong.

He smelled expensive—spicy, clean, way too good for this mess. I pressed my lips to his, hoping he’d kiss me back, hoping he’d make me forget.

But the man caught my wandering hand and pushed me away.

His grip was gentle but firm. I blinked, confused, not understanding why he was resisting.

His hands were cool, fingers long and steady. I whimpered in protest, grabbing his hand and guiding it to my body, my face burning. “I—I’m not really sure what to do… Can you teach me?”

I sounded pathetic, even to my own ears. But I was beyond caring. I just wanted to feel wanted.

The moment his hand touched my skin, he jerked it back like he’d been burned.

He flinched, eyes wide. I stared at him, trying to read his expression through the haze.

I looked up, tears blurring my vision. I couldn’t make out his face. “What’s wrong?”

My voice cracked, full of confusion and hurt. Why wouldn’t he touch me? Was I that unlovable?

He finally spoke, his voice cool and deep, tinged with restraint. “What are you doing?”

His tone was clipped, almost angry. I shrank back, suddenly ashamed of myself.

My brain lagged. “Huh? Did I do something wrong?”

I blinked, trying to focus. The room spun around me, the edges blurring.

Wasn’t he supposed to…

I tried to remember what was supposed to happen next, but my mind was foggy. Nothing made sense.

Uncomfortable, I shifted in his lap, trying to negotiate. “Then I’ll stop. You take the lead.”

I tried to sound confident, but my voice shook. I just wanted him to take control, to make the pain go away.

“Me?” His voice was low.

There was a note of surprise in his tone, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Yeah, didn’t Mia tell you what’s going on? It’s my first time, I don’t have any experience.”

I tried to explain, hoping it would make things easier. I just wanted someone to take care of me, just this once.

“…Your first time?”

He sounded almost angry, like I’d insulted him somehow. I shrank back, unsure what to say.

“Mm-hmm.”

I nodded, tears pricking my eyes. I was so tired, so done with pretending to be okay.

For some reason, he seemed even more displeased.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched across his face. I wondered what I’d done wrong.

Through my hazy vision, I caught a glimpse of his handsome, sharply defined face. His shirt was rumpled from my hands, exposing more of his throat and those intense eyes. Strangely, it made me think of Duane’s standoffish uncle.

The resemblance was uncanny—same jawline, same piercing eyes. My heart skipped a beat, a strange sense of déjà vu washing over me.

My heart gave a sudden jolt, a strange current shooting down my spine. I couldn’t help but whimper and squeeze his waist.

It was like electricity, sharp and sudden. I clung to him, desperate for comfort.

The man frowned, gripping my waist as if he sensed something was wrong. “What did you take?”

His concern caught me off guard. I tried to focus, tried to remember what had happened.

“Some kind of sex drug,” I answered honestly.

My voice was small, but I told the truth. What was the point in lying now?

“Who gave it to you?”

His tone was sharp, almost demanding. I bristled, not wanting to explain myself to a stranger.

“Jeez, you ask a lot of questions.” He was still refusing to touch me, and I was starting to get annoyed. “Why are you the only one here? Weren’t there supposed to be two more?”

I crossed my arms, pouting. If he wasn’t going to help, maybe someone else would. I just wanted someone—anyone—to make me feel wanted.

The air in the room suddenly went tense.

I could feel it, thick and heavy. Something was about to happen, I just didn’t know what.

Even in my muddled state, I sensed danger.

My instincts screamed at me to run, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. I stared at him, waiting for his next move.

His tone was calm. “Who else did you call?”

He sounded almost bored, but there was a warning in his voice. I swallowed, suddenly nervous.

I swallowed, forcing myself to sound righteous. “Male dancers. Aren’t you one too?”

I tried to sound confident, but my voice wavered. The room felt colder, the shadows deeper. I hugged the blanket tighter, waiting for his answer, wondering if maybe—just maybe—I was about to start a new chapter after all.

His answer would change everything.