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“Of course I do,” I snap, then soften. “But he’s part of the club. Nothing serious could ever happen between us.”
Mandy still doesn’t know Spark and I have been sleeping together.
God, this is getting so fucking complicated.
“Why not?” Mandy asks, genuinely curious now.
“Because my father is an officer in the club,” I say, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach.
Mandy bursts out laughing, the sound echoing through the spacious living room. “That’s an excuse, not a reason, Zoe.”
I look away, the abstract painting on the wall suddenly making a lot more sense.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling the tension ebb away with each exhale. “You’re right,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
Mandy cocks her hip out and smirks, a knowing glint in her eye. “Of course I am. Comes with being a few years older than you, Zoe. You get wiser, gain some wisdom.”
I roll my eyes but smile. “Right, your infinite wisdom.”
“Hey, I’m serious here, Mandy says, stepping closer and placing a hand on my shoulder. “You need to go for it. Say fuck it to whatever issues might come up. What matters is your happiness.”
“Yeah,” I nod slowly, feeling the weight of her words settle into my bones. “You’re right again. Maybe I could just... keep it from my dad for a while. Just long enough to see if there’s really something between the two of us.”
“Now that’s a brilliant idea! No need to ruffle daddy’s feathers unless you have to,” Mandy exclaims, her enthusiasm infectious as she gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“Yeah,” I repeat, more firmly this time. The thought starts to bloom in my mind, possibilities unfurling like petals. “It is agood idea, but please for the love of God, don’t ever refer to my father as daddy.”
“Of course it is,” Mandy laughs, “That’s why you have me around—to give you all these pearls of wisdom. And you’re just lucky he’s not single, because I’d rock that man’s world.”
“Ew, I don’t need to be hearing this shit,” I laugh, feeling lighter than I have all day.
Mandy’s laughter rings through the condo like a chime, light and teasing. “So, how did he get his road name, Spark?”
“Honestly,” I say, leaning back against the kitchen counter, “I don’t know. But I assume it has something to do with fire.”
“Well, duh!” Mandy snorts, rolling her eyes dramatically as she tosses a dish towel over her shoulder. “It would be pretty ironic if it didn’t.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I chuckle, but the sound is tinged with nervous energy. My mind is still half-occupied with thoughts of Spark and the storm he’s stirred up inside me.
“All right, enough about your biker boy,” Mandy says, brushing her hands together as if dusting off crumbs. “We should get started.”
“Yeah, let’s do it,” I follow Mandy toward the second bedroom she uses as a studio, my nerves slowly giving way to the familiar rhythm of our work.
It’s a room transformed with soft lighting and strategically placed cameras.
As soon as we enter, Mandy heads straight for the equipment, flipping switches and adjusting dials with practiced ease.
The red recording light flickers on, casting a dim glow that contrasts with the brighter ambiance.
She looks over her shoulder, not waiting for my answer before focusing back on the camera setup. “Ready?”
I take a deep breath, letting the familiar scent of vanilla candles and faint traces of perfume ground me. “Yeah.”
This space has become a sanctuary of sorts, a place where I can momentarily forget the chaos outside these walls.
Mandy grabs our masks from a sleek black dresser.
Mine is a delicate lace number, covering just enough to maintain an air of mystery while leaving my lips exposed.
