Page 14 of Dirty Little Secrets
WELCOME TO OBSIDIAN, NORIANA SUMMERS.
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Kristina leans in, smiling wide. “Choose something badass. Something just for you.”
My fingers type:RED
It’s who I’ve always been. Beneath the fear. Beneath the past. Beneath the bruises. The color that haunts me like a red ribbon tying my past, present, and future together.
“What about Landon? I can’t just leave. Where would I go?”
I have looked at potential places but all of them are too expensive or too far from the office.
“Stay with me,” she says simply. “No pressure. Just until you get on your feet.”
Tears sting the corners of my eyes. “Really?”
She laughs. “Of course. I’d love the company. Just promise to tell me everything you see insideObsidian.”
I nod, smiling for the first time in days. No one has offered me a place to stay before that didn’t want anything in return. “Deal.”
And deep down, I know this is the beginning of everything I was too afraid to want. Everything I was never allowed to have. Freedom. Power. Control. A friend.
9
My phone sits heavy in my pocket. There is no match yet. No alert. I’m not sure if I should feel disappointed or relieved. If I should scroll through my phone or Pinterest so the app can track my interest. Truth is, I haven’t explored the app much. Part of it is guilt. But another part—maybe the bigger one—is fear. Fear if someone from my past recognized me or if I’m not a match for anyone? What if people that want the same things are the kind of people I’m trying to escape from? I know there are people into all kinds of things sexually. The internet is full of them. Obsidian isn’t the only sex club in existence. There are others. People post about it on blogs all the time to attract people that are into the same things they are. But then there are the ones who walk the edge between what is safe and the ones people call twisted, dark, depraved. I’m not into anything crazy and maybe I’m afraid I’ll fall into the hands of someone worse than Brent. All because I’ve been secretly wishing for a fantasy to replace the memories I’ve been trying to run from.
The only way to find out is to try. And Obsidian sounds like the right place so to separate the way I feel—my wants, my needs—from normal life. Because lately, that line is starting to blur. The only way to know is to leave Landon’s apartment.
I don’t have any feelings for him or anything like that. We’re not compatible sexually. He was always a means to an end. As I sit here in his apartment, waiting for him to come home, I run through a dozen reasons why this isn’t working. I knew deep down when I met him in a bar in my hometown of Seattle, he was just a ticket out of the shitty town I grew up in and the dangerous people who had me chained to a life I never wanted. Those same people wanting me to use him so I can get what they wanted. In return for a life of freedom.
My phone buzzes from a spam alert. It’s getting late. I’m not surprised he hasn’t made it home from the office on a Friday night. He always has an excuse. You’d be surprised how exhausting acting like I give as hit can be. It is another reason why I’m itching to get this over with.
I’ve spent the last few days trying to find the best way to break things off. Kristina gave me suggestions.Take your stuff and leave. Text him. Write a note.None of them felt right. Especially because we work at the same company. Breaking up with the man who got you the job at the same place is like setting off a bomb in the middle of a shared office. There’s no clean way to handle the fallout.
I glance at my suitcase by the door. It’s now or never. The best way is in person. It’s less messy. No games.
I have to play the part of not being ungrateful. Landon did help me get the job. He also helped me move to New York and start over. But this is all a ruse.
I keep hoping he feels the same way. Because these last few days? I didn’t miss him. I didn’t feel heartbroken he ghosted me. I felt free. I didn’t have to worry about how I looked or what I said or whether I was making a fool of him. I didn’t feel like I was walking on eggshells just to get through the day. Lying to a manyou are currently living with is harder than one you despise. I never lived at the club house or with Brent. He just expected me to show up when he wanted.
The front door clicks open. My heart lurches, then my stomach drops as the door opens slowly like a chain holding a swing when it’s about to fall. Thinking about breaking up with someone is one thing, going through with it is another.
Landon walks in, jacket slung over his arm, tie missing. There’s a pink smudge on his collar near his throat but I don’t ask or make a scene.
He’ll say it’s from lunch. But I already know it’s not because one thing I learned growing up was men are unforgivable.
He’s been with someone. And strangely, I happy about it. It will make this easier.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” he says, staring at the suitcase. “I thought you’d be with Kristina.”
“I didn’t want to do this over text.”
He drops his jacket on the couch, eyes narrowing. “Do what?”
“I’m leaving.”
