Page 12 of Mastered By Lust

Anger spikes in my chest. Why should I be sad? Javi and I hated each other. The worst part was, I didn’t realize his derision until far too late. I clench the phone tightly in my hand, but I draw on my training to keep my voice level. “I am sad for his friends and family. I will pay my respects because it’s the right thing to do.”

“You’re so fucking cold, Gage. Maybe you should stay home.”

Would if I could. I don’t have the energy or patience for the barbed remarks, the cutting words.

“Goodbye, Todd.” I hang up.

Claudia thinks the old crew miss me.

I think her rose-colored glasses are opaque.

4

Leah

I lean back in one of Gage’s black couches. A mug of steaming coffee rests on the side table. This penthouse is beautiful, quiet. The city is peaceful from up high. I wonder if Gage takes it for granted. I wonder how long it would take, living here, for me to take it for granted.

I hope never.

One of my students has to analyzeWuthering Heightsfor her AP English class. It isn’t my favorite book, which means I’m not as familiar with it as I’d like to be for tutoring. Time for a re-read.

But my old battered copy, with a million notes in the margins, is currently in a box in Dmitri’s garage.

After taking a too-hot sip, I text Dmitri to see if I can swing by for the book.

He messages back immediately.No problem. I’m not at home, but you still have the key.

Cue the inward grimace. I should’ve left the key behind, but I liked feeling some claim to his house. I’m the girl who has a key. It makes me feel special. I’m a little embarrassed that he noticed I kept it.

But he didn’t ask for it back, either.

Perhaps things aren’t irreparably broken between us.

Feeling better about, oh, pretty much everything, I drive over to Dmitri’s.

The morning sun slants through the trees. I marvel at how bright it turns the new leaves. It’s only the beginning of March, but spring comes early to San Esteban because winters are so mild.

Dmitri’s house comes into view. My stomach gives a little swoop of excitement, even though I know he won’t be here. That crush I have on him? Incurable.

I had a crush on him from day one. Sixth grade, the first time Danica invited me over. Her big brother had awed me with his large frame and gentle nature. He was respectful, mature. He teased me the same way he teased Danica, but that didn’t matter. My crush thrived, fed by his attention and kindness. I replayed every interaction, daydreaming about how his jokes were veiled attempts at courtship.

But the crush remained small until one summer, years later. His family invited me to their cabin in Kinasey County. On the third day into our two-week vacation, I sprained my ankle playing soccer on the lawn. Dmitri was the one who kept me company when everyone else, even Danica, went swimming or hiking. He fetched me snacks, ice cream, books, whatever I wanted.

I always had a crush, but I was a complete goner after that trip.

I park in the driveway because he isn’t home. His key is easy to find in the outer pocket of my purse. I open the door and step inside.

The couch grabs my attention immediately, with its plump, gray cushions beckoning me toward memory lane. Nope. Not going to do it. I came, we fucked, we both came. I left.

The garage door is at the end of the hall. I have to go past Dmitri’s bedroom to get there. I glance inside and see a hastily-made bed. A pair of gym shorts lie on the floor next to his clothes hamper next to the door. It’s like he tossed them, didn’t make the shot, and couldn’t be bothered to try again.

I flat-out refused to pick up Mick’s clothes—but I bend and grab Dmitri’s shorts, then drop them into the hamper. A small favor that he’ll never know I did.

I stood in this doorway, that first night I stayed over. I watched him jerk off on the couch. A flash of heat washes over me, just like it did that night.

What’s wrong with me?He doesn’t want you, Leah. At least, he doesn’t want to want you.

Without obeying thestop stop stopmessages from my brain, my feet carry me all the way into his room. My hands pick up one of his pillows. And my lungs suck in a gulp of his scent. I pick up notes of his lemongrass shower gel. I wonder if he would notice if I stole the bottle. Obviously, he would notice. But would he mind?

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