Page 60 of Bake the Town Red

I’m quick to fish it out of my leggings and straighten the crumpled Post-it. The ink didn’t smear during the long hours I’ve been at work.

You were always on my mindis written there. Black on yellow. My lips tug in a smirk. Tyler would understand the meaning behind the title of Elvis’s song.

He’ll remember us watching “Practical Magic” again and again. How Jimmy Angelov was brought back from the dead and sang this to Gillian. I hated it when he was abusive to her.

The dedication, though.

Tyler knows I thought that was epic.

He’ll remember.

He’ll also touch the note.

The water in the sink in his bathroom starts running. I’m quick to shove my hand into my leggings. I’m already dripping from watching Tyler being himself. So wet I wish I could rub one out.

Wish, but can’t. Tyler washes his hands longer than most people do—he’s clean like that—but he won’t be there forever. I settle for sliding my finger along my clit as I pull my hand out and stifle a moan.

Don’t fuck things up because you wanted to fuck your hand.

Right.

I do what I came here for. Slap the Post-it on the table next to his laptop. Use my arousal as ink and scribble the same word Tyler had the night before.

The tiny space under the letters I wrote with a pen will have to do.

And it does.

Mine.

Always mine.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Tyler

The past few days have irrevocably changed me. The little time I’ve spent with Dahlia—during her waking hours, that is—has chipped at my resolve.

You were always on my mind.

She broke into my apartment in broad daylight, sneaky little thing. Was it the first time? Don’t know. Don’t care.

She was there.

After my bathroom break, I smelled her sweet scent all over the room. Then the note next to my laptop.

You were always on my mind.

Fucking abusive Jimmy Angelov. Obsessive Jimmy Angelov. Dahlia loved that side of him.

And Christ, her arousal on the note.

Mine.

Ignoring it would’ve been best. Pretending I don’t care about this blast from the past would’ve been wiser.

A day and a half. I’ve lasted a miserable day and a few hours, to be exact.

The skies are dark as I cross street after street toward her.

---