Page 24 of Throttle

Throttle.

I am in his room and in his bed. Right… last night. Damn.

“Hey you.” My tall, gorgeous biker is handing me an aspirin and water.

I’m calling him mine now. How much did I drink?

If I wish hard enough, maybe I'll turn invisible because I could not have humiliated myself anymore if I wanted.

What was going through my mind? Oh yeah, the strong alcohol that took over did that for me. How nice. I will thank the giant bottle of humiliation later.

With shame, I consume the white pill and drink. “Thank you.” I smile but can’t manage eye contact.

Sometimes, Throttle witnesses me at my lowest. Like when my hamster died. Reason for my new fish friend. I was a mess and going to work was impossible for me. I spent a whole week with him at the club. No matter the amount of snot that came out of my nose when I cried, he always held me. Once, I fractured my ankle, and carrying me everywhere was his mission. Took care of me. But yesterday marked the deepest of the barrel moments.

“Tequila, I’m sorry.” He reaches for my arm, then brushes it heavenly with his thumb.

Wait a second. He was offering an apology.

“I’m the one who should say sorry. Not you. I was a drunken disaster and utterly humiliated myself.”

“I shouldn’t have been so controlling.” He leans in and I can smell his body wash. His hair, still damp, flops against his forehead, adding to his sex appeal. “You mean a lot to me. Do you understand that?” He keeps telling me so and the warmth rises on my face as I stare at my empty glass.

“You mean so much to me too, Throttle.” I gaze up at him, his eyes widening. “I have no idea why I insisted on straddling your prospect. I’m not interested in him.”

Throttle’s fists clench, but he then relaxes. Though, he still holds a passionate anger behind those brown eyes.

He rose, aggressively pulling on his coat. “We’re done talking about him, got it?”

I can't fathom why he has such a strong hatred of their new prospect, but it's not worth asking.

“Chain called church this morning, so I gotta go. Stay here as long as you want.”

“Thanks, but I need to head out. Should study before my shift tonight.”

“I can take you home. Let me just—”

“No!” Absolutely not. “It’s okay. My car’s here.”

“Right. Got it.” He studies me a beat. “Catch you later.”

His turn shows off his impressive back and shoulders, and I'm left grappling with the question of how I'll endure this mounting tension between us.

I linger on the bed, postponing my departure. I’m never as safe in my apartment as I am at Throttle’s place. I never want to leave.

After the agonizing drive back to my building, I wobble up the stairs. Each step was like a set of knives stabbing into my temples.

For alcohol, I can't handle much... I'm a complete lightweight. I have no control over the situation, as last night clearly showed. I sat on their prospect with my ass cheeks exposed. And what is the exact reason? Hoping to make Throttle jealous. Instead, my plan failed, and I repulsed him. He must have found it difficult to accept that his best friend was humiliatingly riding one of his guys at his club.

Gross.

After feeding Nemo, I collapse onto my bed. I wish there was a way to sleep amidst the noise of shouting upstairs and the loud music next door. The couple who have been arguing for a month should break up. It's time. Include a toxic relationship for the reasons I should move elsewhere. Also, not forgetting about the emergency vehicle sirens that go off every few hours at night.

I use a pillow to muffle the intoxicating noise above me. Should I scream into it like in the movies?

Throttle

In church, I stand against the wall with crossed arms and a forward gaze. I hate the prick. Apart from his newfound interest in Tequila, I was unsure of why else I disliked him. I didn’t know him.

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