Page 36 of City of Wind and Lies

"Calm down, you don't have to make a decision now. Go to dinner, get some food, get laid, and take it from there. I mean, it's not like you’re stuck with the guy. If things don't work out, you can get another job and have no ties to him."

"I like my job though,” I whine. “But yeah, you're right," I sigh, rolling up to sit. "I'm gonna go for a run around the park, clear my head. And maybe I'll feel less bloated, too."

"Gross, I'm going to go take a nap then," she says, pushing to her feet and pulling me up with her.

Walking back inside, Drea goes straight for the couch, turning on another season of that reality dating show she’s obsessed with while I dip into my room.

I pull a gray ASOS crop top over my black sports bra, folding the waistband of my navy running shorts down as I try to think of where I stashed my earbuds.

After ten minutes straight of tearing the place apart, I realize they’re probably still at Trey's, since he always borrowed them when he went to the gym. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I send him a text and lace up my Nikes.

He responds almost instantly that he has them and will be home all afternoon if I want to come get them. I’d rather he wasn’t there, but against my better judgment, I agree.

Grabbing my keys and wallet and making Drea promise to do my makeup later because I suck at smokey eyes and want to look extra sexy for this date, I head out, hop in my car, and peel away towards Trey's.

The entire drive there, I can’t shake the unsettling feeling that washes over me. My eyes dart between the mirrors checking my surroundings, the hairs on the back of my neck raising as I pull to the curb. Shifting into park in front of the old brick complex, I notice a familiar silver vehicle parked across the street.

What the fuck…

I climb out of the car, fumbling with my key fob in my sweaty palm. Paranoia and intrigue fuel my steps as I march across the street and tap my knuckles against the tinted glass of the Range Rover.

Dallas rolls down the window, wearing dark aviators and a passive grin on his face.

"Can I help you?" I ask, staring at my reflection in his mirrored lenses.

"Nope, I'm good. Thanks," he replies, starting to roll the window up.

I lean through the window to stop him. "Then, why ya followin' me?"

"Just doing my job."

"And your job's to follow me?"

"Today it is," he answers boredly.

I rock back on my heels, folding my arms across my chest. "Well, if I'd known that, we coulda carpooled."

He laughs, identical dimples framing the smile that splits across his face as he rolls the window up.

I can see why Drea was so drawn to him.

Shaking my head, I spin on my heels and enter my old building, stepping into the elevator and hitting the button for the fourth floor. Looking around, I can't help but compare it to the one in Bowie's building. I felt like a queen moving in here; the group homes made this place look like a castle. Kinda how Trey seemed like a prince but played me like a fool. I realize now just how easily perspective alters your perception.

I raise my middle finger towards 4B as I pass before lifting a fist to knock on the chipping white paint of 4D.

Trey pulls back the door, black shorts hanging low on his hips and a gray hoodie swallowing him whole. His face is a little thinner than the last time I saw him, dark circles brimming his stormy eyes as they make a pass over my body before he offers me a lazy smirk. "Hey Wren, looking good."

I roll my eyes. "Wish I could say the same."

"Ah, don't be bitchy, or I'm not giving you these," he taunts, holding my earbuds out, and like a damn fool I try to take them, only for him to raise them above his head.

"I haven't seen you for a while, let's catch up." His forearm rests on the door frame as he leans against the side of it. "How's the new job? Do you like it? Are you safe?"

"Trey, I work for an investment group, not the mob. Not exactly a dangerous career." I open my palm and extend it toward him, urging him to get on with it. "Now give me my headphones."

“C’mon, let’s talk,” he tips his head inside the apartment. “Have a drink with me.”

“We have literally nothing to talk about.”

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