Page 82 of Dark Surrender

The cameras we installed alerted Cell. She knows I’ve been watching Iris.

Choosing not to say anything that’ll force me to lie, I pat the cushion beside me.

Iris doesn’t move, but those eyes bore into me. Sweat beads on the back of my neck as goosebumps rush down my arms, and my cock goes from Hi-Iris to We-Need-To-Come-For-Her.

Clearing my throat, I hitch my foot onto my knee to hide my arousal, then stretch my arm across the back of the couch. I still can’t believe she wanted this ugly thing.

Iris shakes her head, turns on her heel, and disappears back into the kitchen.

Well, fuck. This wasn’t part of the plan.

Cell swears Iris is into me, but I’m not so sure. She’s a hard read sometimes. Which I get, but I can’t keep sneaking into her house every night if I want anything to come of this. I can’t really get to know her, and she can’t really get to know me, if we’re not face-to-face, able to have real fuckin’ conversations that aren’t just awkward surface-level bullshit.

So I’m here.

To talk, keep my hands to myself, and feel this out.

Iris

Dumping the snacks onto the kitchen counter, the bowl of popcorn tips over and rains a mess of kernels all over the floor. I don’t bother cleaning it up as I grip the edge of the countertop and force myself to breathe.

We can’t keep doing this.

I can’t keep doing this.

The emotional whiplash is maddening.

Now he’s on my couch, looking like he does, and I’m supposed to what? Just sit down next to him and… Talk?

If he’d wanted a movie night with me, couldn’t he have asked? Isn’t that what normal men do? Ask?

Then again, nothing about us has been normal.

I drugged him.

Almost got him killed.

He moved me here.

Bought me a house.

After my sister got rid of me.

Ugh!

The urge to cry burns my nose.

I hate how I’ve been feeling. I hate change. I hate not having any sort of direction. I’ve spent the past week watching movies and walking around town, scoping it out, alone. The only time I’ve seen Cell is when she drops by. I haven’t sought anyone out. But I have taken care of my plants. That has to count for something, right?

I’m restless.

And now he’s here… again…

After he left me, again, for over a week this time.

Needing space, I march over to the back door and throw it open. Then I thunder down the steps, barefoot, to release some of this tension. At the bottom, I jump onto the cool grass to focus. On the grass. Not him. On my steps. Not him. On my breathing. Not him. This is new. Something Cell mentioned in passing that Kali taught her. So I created a Pinterest board focused solely on mindfulness. It’s not like I’ve had anything better to do. Heck, I never even had Pinterest before I moved here. I didn’t have the time. But now that I do, I’ve been pinning like crazy. Which is silly, but it gives me a sense of purpose. A focus. Interior design for my new house. Learning to cook real food, in an oven and on a stove, not over an open fire.

I baked a boxed cake mix. Another first. It tasted good.