Page 17 of Unholy Obsession

I glance back through the window at the bedroom door I so thoughtfully jammed shut with a chair.

Jeff had some real issues grasping the extremely basic concept ofno means no.

Yes, we met on an app two hours ago. Yes, I came over for a good time. But guess what, Fuckface McSlappypants? A girl has the right to change her damn mind.

Apparently, Jeff the Fuckhead didn’t agree. And when I tried to leave, he decided to get handsy.

Bad call, buddy.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been slapped that hard. I open my mouth to stretch my jaw, only for pain to blossom across my cheekbone.

“Fuck!”

Yup. Still hurts.

I expressed my displeasure by stabbing him through the hand with a fork.

Helpful tip: always check your surroundings for potential weapons. Jeff was a slob. Leftover plates of food were all over the place. Major ick. There’d been bad vibes since I stepped inside the place, hence my about-face. But it was convenient ’cause the moment he hit me, I grabbed the nearest fork and turned his hand into a kebab.

He screamed like a little bitch.

I bolted.

Thus, kitchen chair under the doorknob to buy myself time.

Classic. Effective. A++ move, Moira.

Cut to my great escape and scrambling down a rusty fire escape outside his apartment. Too bad I was two stories down before my brain very helpfully reminded me that I could’ve just taken the elevator.

At least Fuckhead Jeff only lived three floors up.

A cackling laugh bursts out of my throat. I slap a hand over my mouth while I kick the last ladder down to the street.

Scratch that.Almostdown to the street.

I have to drop the last three feet to the pavement and?—

“Fuck!”

My ankle twists. But I’m back up and sprinting before my body can fully register the pain.

Finally, I make it to a well-lit street and duck into a pharmacy. Sanctuary. Civilization. Concealer.

The security guard gives me a look, but I keep my head high, shoulders back, and march straight for the sunglasses section.

It’s not my first rodeo.

Have I made some dumb decisions in my life? Yes. Was meeting up with Jeff one of them? Obviously.

Most of the time, it goes fine. Like ninety-three percent of the time.

I’ve just been on edge ever since I woke up to a text from Mads. She and Domhn are going to the club again tonight for Strip Poker. Which means tonight is another chance to fix things.

But also… another chance to fuck everything up.

And if there’s one thing I excel at, it’s fucking things up.

I speed-walk through the overly perfumed aisles to the sunglasses display. I tilt my head, checking the mirror on the twirling rack.

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