Page 18 of Savage Seduction

Outside, the warm air hits me, and I walk briskly towards my car, my head turning at every sound. The simple act of clicking the unlock button on my key fob feels like a herculean task as my hands tremble slightly. I get in quickly, lock the doors, and sit back, taking deep breaths to calm down. Never in my life have I felt like this. I’ve never been followed or hunted down… that I know of.

Why now?What the fuck is going on?

I start the engine and pull out of the parking space, glancing in the rearview mirror. For a moment, I think I see someone standing near where my car was parked, watching. Iblink, and they’re gone. Was it just my imagination? The stress of the past couple of days? Or is there really someone out there? Following me. I shiver and stomp on the gas.

As I drive away, my thoughts turn back to Max. The emotional turmoil of the day makes the memory of our brief interaction at the university seem like a distant dream. The warmth of his smile, the sound of his laughter, they feel like anchors in the strange sea of fear and confusion I find myself adrift in.

But that nagging feeling about him doesn’t go away. Why does he seem so familiar, not just from our recent encounters but from somewhere deep in my past? It’s frustrating and intriguing in equal measure. As a surgeon, I’ve seen countless faces on the operating table, lives hanging in a delicate balance. Could Max have been one of them? The thought is both absurd and off-putting. What would be the chances?

Whatever connection lies between us, I’m not ready to uncover it just yet. Maybe it’s fear of discovering something that could change everything. Or maybe it’s the hope that whatever it is, it’s a bridge to something profound and meaningful between us. I push the thought aside as I focus on the road ahead.

As I park my car in my garage, the safety of the enclosed space finally allows my heart rate to settle. I lean back in the seat, letting out a long breath. Today has left me with more questions than answers, both about my feelings for Max and the eerie sensation of being followed.

But one thing is clear: I need to see Max again. There’s something between us that’s worth exploring, regardless of the shadows that might lurk behind the obvious attraction. Maybe next time, I’ll find the courage to ask him about his past, and maybe then, I’ll remember why he seems so familiar. Until then, I’ll need to work on my relaxation techniques.Whatever is bothering me seems to have made me a bit paranoid.

I laugh at myself as I get out of the car and step into my house, my sanctuary. No one has ever accused me of being dramatic, but thankfully no one is around at the moment to see me acting this way. That being said, it was wine time.

CHAPTER 8

Max

The test takes its toll on my stamina for the day, and after running errands and the adrenaline leaving my veins from the scare in the parking lot, I am dragging.

“Yes,” I say as I pull into a parking spot near my apartment; something rarely found this time of day. Traffic has been heavy from the homeward bound commuters and the stop and go of it all has left my nerves a bit frayed. I grab my backpack and the two bottles of red wine I purchased at the Wine Express down the street and make my way to the stairs leading to my second-floor apartment.

I am met by Chubs, the all-black stray tomcat with a large head, thick neck, and huge paws. He’s the one who adopted me this past year. “Hey, Chubby,” I say, reaching down to scratch him behind the ears. He flinches but then leans into the affection. “You still mad about getting neutered?”

Chubs purrs and continues to rub around my legs in a figure-eight pattern. He can be cantankerous with strangers, but he is always gentle with me. This is a good thing since hestill has all of his claws. I open the door to the apartment. “Want to come in?”

Chubs looks inside like he always does, then sits at the threshold and meows. “Okay, fine. I’ll get your dinner. You know, Chubby… I’d love to have some company tonight.”

Chubs doesn’t budge from the entrance. “Okay fine.” I keep the door open while I put the backpack and bag of wine on the floor and hurry into the kitchen to grab a saucer of water and a bowl of cat food. Scooping a cup of kibble into the cereal bowl, I add a can of wet food and mix it together.

Meow.

“I’m hurrying, buddy.” I fill a saucer with water and hurry back to the doorway. “You wouldn’t be so hungry if you’d stop gallivanting around town. How many times have I offered you a nice cushy place to live?” I place the dishes down on the ground outside the apartment.

Chubs dives headfirst into the feast, starting with the wet food. I sit on the ground and pet him while he eats, his tail wrapping around my hand with each soft stroke. “I love you, Chubby.”

A few minutes pass while he eats before he finishes and curls up onto my lap. “I’ve never met a cat who loved his belly rubbed as much as you.” I check him from head to tail for possible injuries, ticks, or sores. Chubs even lets me check the pads of his feet after that time I removed a sticker when we’d first met. Healthy and happy. I commence tickling his tummy while his legs twitch before playfully attacking my hands and arms.

My stomach growls. “Sorry, buddy, that’s my cue to eat.” I put him down next to me and stand. “Last chance… want to come in?”

Chubs flicks his tail from side to side and flops himself down on the welcome mat, rubbing himself against it.

“Suit yourself.” I step inside but look back. “See youtomorrow.” I close the door, pick up the wine and go into the kitchen.

After opening the fridge, I sigh. A jug of milk, liter of orange juice, half a loaf of bread, and some margarine. Old habits die hard. Not going to the grocery store on a regular basis has been one of them. I laugh to myself. How many times had Dominique Rivera and I shown up to work on an empty stomach, bellies rumbling, moods faltering, simply because we’d been too lazy to go to the store and pick up breakfast foods? I smile. Good times.

I take out two slices of bread and put them in the toaster. A minute later they pop up, a nice golden brown. I take out the margarine and recoil when I remove the lid.

“Spaghetti?” I say. “When’s the last time I even made that?” From the multi-colored mold and fur growing inside the container, I guess it’d been at least a month, maybe two.

Tossing the entire container in the garbage, I pull the dry toast from the toaster and take a bite. Not great, but it will do for tonight. I’ll go to the store tomorrow. I pop the cork on the Rosé and pour myself a full glass. After a satisfying sip, I take the toast and glass in one hand, and the rest of the bottle in the other, to the living room.

I flip on the T.V. and sip some more wine. Flipping through the four channels the pair of rabbit ear antennas manage to get, the disappointment grows. The Bachelorette, Big Brother, America’s Got Talent. Who cares?Ugh. I stop flipping and let the local news play as background noise while I scroll through social media as I finish my first glass of wine. Other than Suzie from high school celebrating the birth of her fifth child, there isn’t much good news to be found. “Good for you, Suzie. Now keep your legs closed for God’s sake.” I laugh at my own joke and put the phone down beside me. Pouring a second glass, I yawn. I put the wine down on the coffee table and stretch my arms overhead. Still a little sorefrom the night before, I stand, grab my glass, and make for the shower. The idea of scalding-hot water pounding on my shoulders, upper back, and neck would feel better than sex right now.

Behind me, the news continues to play as I walk away. “In other news,” the female newscaster says, “The body of a homeless woman was found just after midnight last night. Local officials are not ruling out homicide but have not released any further details at this time.” I close the door to the bathroom and turn on the water.

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