Page 89 of Faithful

The knock repeats itself and I look into the peephole.

Glasses is standing on the other side. A yellow manila envelope is in his hand.

Fuck.

I flip the lock and slowly open the door, positioning myself on the threshold.

“Dylan. How are you?” He greets me with a slippery smile and a nod.

“I’m fine. What are doing here?”

“May I?” He gestures at the space behind me.

“No. Not really.” I fold both arms on my chest and pin him with a stare. I hope it isn’t as pathetic as the state of mind I’m currently in because of his unwanted presence in my place. How did he even find out where I live? Although that might be a stupid question since he knew about the ticket Kai bought me. Asshole is resourceful.

“I can understand your frustration,” Glasses says smugly. “But I think, considering the sensitivity of the subject we need to discuss, it’s in your best interest we do this in private.”

A shiver runs down my back. My microwave chooses this moment to stop its buzzing and the abrupt silence that ensues between me and Gavin’s little helper feels heavy with threat.

“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth and move to the side to let him pass, then shut the door.

He walks right into the center of the living room, studying the apartment as he goes. “Nice but small.” He finally gives his verdict and turns to face me. “I was hoping our last conversation would not be in vain, but it appears that you don’t understand the seriousness of the situation.”

Next Glasses offers me the envelope.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“Have a look.”

With trembling hands, I open the envelope and glance at what’s inside. They are some kind of photos. I take them out and flip through them in horror.

They are shots of Kai and me in Vegas. At the club he took me to. We’re on the dance floor, our bodies pressed together.

It’s intimate. You don’t need to look twice to tell what exactly we are to each other.

My stomach bottoms out. “What the fuck is this?” I mutter, looking back at Glasses.

“How long do you think you can keep this up, Dylan?” he asks sweetly in a voice that doesn’t match the intent behind the question.

My mind begins to race. “Where did you get these?”Who else knows?

“How long before paparazzi catch you two?”

“Where did you get these?”

“Oh.” Glasses shrugs. “I have my ways.”

“You fucking spied on me?”

“Let’s not call things what they are not.”

“You have no right.”

He moves back a little, then circles the room. He finally comes to a halt near the TV and says, “Just so you know, this young man has a lot to lose. If I were you, I would consider breaking it off before things go too far.”

* * *

I don’t sleep all night and by the time exhaustion claims me, I have to get up for work.

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