I’ve been chillin’ on the couch ever since, trying not to think about the fact that there is one scene left to go before the weekend and our contract is over.
That it’s Xavier’s scene is making me even more nervous.
I’ve been given zero indication of when it is going to start or what’s involved. He’s been MIA several times since yesterday morning, and none of the others seem to care. And he watches me. All the time. I’m fairly certain that he would follow me into the bathroom if I didn’t lock the door.
And last night, during Hudson’s fuck toy scene, his questions about piercings had not gone unheard by me.
Is that something he wants? To thread a needle through my skin and leave a permanent mark? Is he going to do that to me today? And if yes, where? My clit? My nipples? Somewhere else?
A full-body shiver runs done my spine.
Do I even want that?
Nerves bubble in my stomach as I contemplate the state of my skin. I have nothing pierced and no tattoos. My skin is asunblemished as a baby’s, but that’s only because of the lack of cash in my life. And it’s not that I’m anti body modifications. At some point, I do want to pierce my ears for vanity’s sake, but I don’t see myself wasting money on ink or pierced flesh.
They are absolutely stunning on everyone else, but for me, I’ll be saving my money for my future. I never want to be reliant on another person or institution again, and the only way to make that happen is to be completely and utterly self-funded.
My phone locked itself while I was busy contemplating the mess of thoughts in my head. Unlocking it, I type out a reply to Oakley.
Me:Seriously, I’m fine, I don’t
Bang.
I fumble my brand-new phone, my heart rate tripling in beats per minute as I glance over my shoulder and see…
No one.
Wait, where did they go?
Swiveling around on the couch cushion, I scan the apartment but come up empty.
Shit, did they all leave?
My heart feels loose in my chest, like it is preparing to sink.
Did they really fucking leave me here alone?
They’ve had everything about this weekend planned down to a fucking T—how could they forget about me? What in the actual fuck?
Wait, is this their way of telling me to leave?
Maybe they are just having a quiet conversation in the bedroom together?
A bubble of hope that someone is still here with me, and they are just showering, fills in my chest as I abandon my phone on the couch and bolt to the bedroom.
The door is open, and the bubble of hope is already fizzling out when I don’t hear running water. The room is dark—the curtains are drawn and the lights are off. I flick the switch and walk around the bed to the walk-in wardrobe.
Dark in here too.
Fuck, is their stuff gone?
With panic starting to build, I search for the light, turn it on and sigh a massive breath of relief.
Their clothes are all still hanging in the wardrobe. Nothing is missing.
That must mean they are coming back, right?
Maybe it’s a momentary lapse in their planning, each of them thinking one of the others would be with me? That must be it.