Page 46 of Interview with a Sadist
He turns to me as the car veers toward the highway exit. “Good.”
Nolan weaves through traffic with ease, and pulls his Lexus up to the front of my apartment complex, stopping directly next to the curb. Before I can reach for the handle to exit, he places a hand on top of mine and doesn't let go.
“Bree,” he says. “Listen, I just want you to know that while you're thinking about everything that has happened since we met, I’m enamored by it, too. I think you're incredible, and that includes more than just your jaw-dropping beauty. I love your personality and passion, and I’m infatuated with your sense of adventure and ability to open your mind when that’s not what you're used to. I’ve loved our time together, and I desperately want to see you again.
"It’s not even about the sex, although you were unbelievable last night. It’s about more than that. We don't even need to have sex the next time we’re together. I just want to see you again as soon as possible. So, I know you're about to rush inside and get ready for work, and I don't want to be disruptive to your day, but I definitely want to talk to you again soon. Cool?”
The smile that takes over my face is one I can’t control. It’s wide and reaches up to my ears, but I’m unbothered because the happiness and excitement I feel is genuine.
“Cool,” I answer, just before Nolan leans his entire body across the car and kisses me. My heart races into a frenzy that makes me lightheaded as our tongues embrace again and heat explodes from one end of my body to the next. I quickly fill with lust that I have to ignore because I’m pressed for time, and somehow manage to pull myself away and get out of the car.
Nolan watches me until I reach the front door before driving away, leaving me beaming on the top step of my complex. I smile again, although no one is around to see it, and all I can think about is the next time we’ll be together. I know I’ll be consumed by thoughts of last night for the entirety of our time apart, and I’ll use it as fuel to get through the day. Somehow, the sadistic owner of Philly’s new BDSM club has climbed into my life and filled it with passion and lust that makes my entire world seem brighter. I’m fucking obsessed and desperate for more.
“Bree?” a voice says, cutting right through my morning happiness and sending me reeling.
I startle, jerking my head around and finding Melissa staring at me from the bottom of the steps.
“Melissa,” I say, stunned by her arrival. Where the hell did she come from, and how long has she been there?
“Hi,” she says, before frowning and tilting her head to the side in confusion. “So, who was that guy you were kissing?”
ChapterTwenty-Eight
Old Bree stirs to life in my stomach. I feel her shifting as Melissa’s voice works its way into my ears and sinks down into the depths of my very being, reawakening the version of me I worked so hard to eliminate. She wants to answer. She wants to lie and say that Nolan is nobody—just some random guy I met and brought me home, and certainly not the new man in my life that I love spending time with, who’s also the owner of a BDSM club. Old Bree wants to deflect and say whatever is necessary to convince her old friend that everything is just as it was, but I refuse to allow her to have the chance. I swallow hard and push her down deeper than she was before.
“What are you doing here, Melissa?” I ask, instead of answering her question. She’s used to being the person in charge of our friend group. Whenever she asks a question, Teagan and I are expected to answer, because Melissa is the one with the husband. She’s the one who managed to put her life in order before the rest of us, so we’re following her lead and she knows it. She is our commander, and we’re the troops. Well, fuck that. She can answer my questions now.
Melissa steps onto the bottom stair with her flowing blonde hair blowing in the breeze, and her hands in the pockets of her white trench coat. Her pants are light gray, as is the shirt beneath the coat, but her look is very angelic. The glow of white accented by the gold of her hair—the proverbial halo—makes her look as though she could never do any harm. She stands across from me while I wear last night’s date outfit, looking a tad bit homeless with my disheveled hair, ruined makeup, and grocery-sized bags under my eyes. I can only imagine what judgmental people like Teagan would think seeing us standing together, yet somehow, of the two of us, I’m the better person.
“I was hoping we could talk,” Melissa says. “We were angry at lunch the other day, and I didn't really like the way things ended between us. We’re friends, so I thought we should talk it out, and I wanted to catch you before you went to work. I just didn't expect you to be getting home at this time.”
“Whether I’m getting home at this time or not, you still came over without texting or calling first, so I would've been caught off guard either way.”
Melissa flinches, doing her best to keep her anger at bay, but I see it. I recognize the simmer in her eyes.
“True,” she forces herself to say with a playful giggle. “So, can we talk?”
“I have to get ready for work, so you’ll have to come in,” I say, before spinning around and opening the door.
I hold it for her and watch as she climbs the stairs with her eyes on me. Once she’s in, the entire journey to my apartment is silent until we’re inside with the door closed. She follows me into my bedroom and sits down on the bed, nervously shoving her hands underneath her thighs.
I refuse to start this conversation. If she came over—without any notice—to apologize or work something out between us, I intend to give her time and space to do it. So, without saying a word, I step into the bathroom and begin removing my makeup with a wipe. I feel her watching me until I look at her through the mirror, and she flinches as if I startled her.
“Sorry,” she says, clearing her throat. “So, like I said outside, I didn't really like the way things ended between us at Starbucks. We’ve been friends for years, and we shouldn't let a disagreement break up what we’ve had all these years. I think you being more open-minded is a good thing, actually.”
I stop mid-wipe. “You do?”
“Yes,” she answers. “It’s good to be impartial and receptive, especially in your line of work. You're just doing what you’ve gotta do to be good at your job, which you always have been. You're a great journalist, Bree. I don't think I could do what you do.”
I finish wiping my face and take off my shirt, leaving my bra on as I turn around to face her. “I appreciate the compliment about my job, but I’m not being more open-minded for work. Meeting Nolan just happened to open my eyes to a lot of things, and I realized I was wrong to prejudge people. Nolan was the icing on the cake.”
“Nolan is the club owner right?”
“Yes, and he’s the guy I was kissing just now,” I admit with my head high. Melissa’s eyes widen momentarily before she realizes her reaction and stops herself.
“Oh,” she says with a bit of a chuckle. “So, you're dating him now?”
“I don't know what we’re doing, exactly,” I confess, as much as I hate saying it out loud, especially to Melissa. “But I know we’re having fun, and I feel like everything has changed for the better since I met him.”
