Page 10 of Something Borrowed

“Bye.” I say and turn to walk out of the front door, sipping my coffee as I go.

“That’s my mug,” He says, sounding confused.

“Is it? I don’t see your name on it.” I smirk, pushing the door open and walking out of his house, towards where the Uber is waiting for me on the street.

“Lexington Building on Seventh Street.” The Uber smells of dash polish as though he’s just had it cleaned.

“Yes, miss.” He confirms the address, and heading towards my father’s building.

My father likes to keep his eyes on the city. Instead of buying a mansion out somewhere away from the city center, he bought a building and converted the top two floors into our home.

I’m fine with it.

I like to keep my eyes on the city too.

Living somewhere in the suburbs would bore me out of my mind.

I keep drinking my coffee while the driver keeps throwing me a random glance in the rearview mirror.

“Can I help you with something?” I say in a sarcastic tone.

He turns his eyes back to the road and doesn’t look again.

Scrolling through the ton of messages I’ve received, I tell my friends that they can get all the updates when I see them. I’m not sure what to tell them.

I can’t believe it happened.

I went through with the dare and for some stupid reason took it even further than that and go home with the guy.

The worst part, the part I am trying to ignore or deny or just not believe - is that I want to see him again. Yeah, stupid. I know.

But why wouldn’t I want the one thing I’m not supposed to have and the sex - I can’t describe how good it was.

It was so intense with him, my heart was racing, and my body was on fire against his.

I’ve never felt that with anyone before.

And there’s something else.

Something that makes me want to roll my eyes at myself because it sounds so cliche.

I feel like I know him. Like my soul knows him.

When I let the thought take form in my head, I roll my eyes at myself.

Yip.

Ridiculous

The Uber driver stops outside the building and I head inside. The private elevator only goes to the top floor. There is another one on the other side of the building for anyone wanting to access anything other than the top two.

It’s a long ride up.

I hope my father isn’t home. I’m not in the mood for another one of his lectures.

Unfortunately, luck is not on my side.

“Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer my messages?” he demands as soon as I walk through the door.

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