Page 68 of The Outsider

Michael had given that to her. As a friend. And she really appreciated it, because she felt a little bit bruised, and it was nice to have a friend.

“Are you sure you’re fine to go in?”

“I think so. I’ll wave you on unless they’re boning in the living room.”

He nodded. “Sounds good.”

She walked up to the front door and stopped, peering around. She didn’t see any clothing strewn about on the floors. No clear and obvious signs that Daughtry had a woman in there. But then, it was possible they had just taken themselves back to the bedroom. Inwhich case, she was completely clear to walk into her own place of residence. Except of course the problem was, it didn’t really feel like hers; it felt like his.

And she didn’t really feel okay; she felt tragic because whatever the reason, she wanted him.

She curled her hands into fists, just for a second, then she turned and waved Michael off.

He waved back, and pulled out of the parking area. She opened the front door and slowly went inside.

She crept down the hall, listening. She heard water running. The shower.

Weretheyin the shower together?

She felt a strange, heavy sensation between her legs and a deeply upset feeling in her chest. It was the most confusing experience of her life. She felt aroused thinking about him, naked in the shower, his hands moving over wet skin.

When she thought of that other woman, it made her feel like vomiting, and that was just awful.

She stomped into the kitchen and flung the fridge open. She took out the last piece of leftover pizza from the other night and nuked it in the microwave. She had a moment where she paused just for a second to feel grateful that there were leftovers in the fridge that she had access to. That she could easily reheat in the microwave. She wasn’t fishing and scaling a fish and gutting it, trying her best to preserve it until she could start a fire.

Her chest cramped painfully when she thought of that fish.

When she thought of thatgirl.

That girl who was now... perilously close to weeping over what? A man?

A man.

What had men ever done for her?

Well. The King men had done quite a lot for her. It was true. But in the general sense, men were so much more trouble than they were worth, and what the hell was the matter with her?

She gritted her teeth, blinked hard, fighting back angry tears.

He is nothing to me. Nothing. A friend at best.

“Bix?”

“Argh!”she screamed and turned around, and there was Daughtry standing in the doorway. Shirtless, a pair of gray sweatpants low on his hips. Barefoot.

“Should I heat some more food up for you and your friend?” If she had been a raccoon she’d have been baring her teeth.

“What?” he asked.

“Are you done with her already? Didn’t realize you were a Minuteman, Daughtry.”

He frowned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t know what it means?” She held up her finger, pointing erect and straight at the ceiling, and then slowly let it droop.

His eyes narrowed. “The hell, Bix?”

“You left with her.”

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