Page 27 of Explosive Prejudice

“I’m sorry.”

“Look at us, bonding over grief. Who would’ve believed it?” He laughed, and I understood it was his way of changing the subject. “So why carry pain-relieving cream in your bag?”

He really did never shut up.

“For the scar I have on my back. Sometimes it hurts.”

“That’s right. I noticed it when I watched you dance. It’s nasty.”

I chuckled. “Thanks.”

“It’s also hot.”

“Is there anything about me that isn’t?”

“Your mask.” His fingers tangled with the sheets. “It’s stupid.”

I agreed the masks we had to wear were bothersome and uncomfortable, but they gave us anonymity.

“Think about it this way. Without it, we wouldn’t be here having this conversation.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s because I’m a faceless stranger that you feel safe enough to talk with. And vice versa.”

“To be fair, I want you to fuck me, but you keep insisting on talking, which is boring, by the way,” he complained in his snarky tone that, apparently, turned me on.

It appeared I had a thing for brats.

“So, how did you get your scar?”

“If I tell you, you need to tell me something in return.”

“Who’s playing games now?” he laughed. “But sure.”

“A dog attacked me when I was a kid.”

“Oh, shit. That must have hurt.”

I tried not to laugh because it more than just hurt. Using her teeth and claws, the animal ripped me to shreds.

“Now, your turn. Tell me how you got that bruise?”

He was silent for a moment as if to consider whether to lie or not, but then spoke. “Ask me something else.”

Not wanting to push, I accepted his request. “What made you come to the club?”

“I was bored. That’s pretty much it,” he said quietly, but I had a suspicion there was more to it than that. “What about you, how did you get into this field?”

“Nah, you already had one question.”

He grunted and kicked his legs on the mattress before stretching his body and mumbling something under his breath.

“How do you know Spanish?” he asked.

“I told you, you already had one question.”

He pouted his lips and looked awfully cute. With a chuckle, I answered him. “I’m Colombian. Although I was born and raised here.”

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