Page 47 of Tattletale

He holds out one arm, inviting me into his embrace. “Come here, baby.”

But as the sex craze calms, my anger returns.

I crawl away from him to the edge of the bed and swing my legs around. I stand, causing Lance’s cum to spill down my thighs and drip onto his bedroom floor.

“Hey, where are you going?” he asks, pointing to the right. “Bathroom is that way.”

I say nothing in return as I make my way to the bedroom entrance.

“Cricket!” Lance exclaims, an edge of agitation in his voice. “You promised you’d stay.”

Hand on the door handle, I pause, but don’t bother to turn around. “You’re right. I did…I guess we’re both liars now.”

I leave his bedroom and slam the door shut behind me.

TWELVE

LANCE

Linc scowlsat the automatic espresso maker Eden recently ordered for our break room. It has a touchscreen operation system, and he looks like a clueless Neanderthal staring at the large silver box like he’s waiting for it to talk to him. “Do you know how the fuck to work this thing?” he asks.

I roll my eyes. “Keep glaring at it. That should help.”

He rubs against his eyelids. “You really feel like testing me this early in the morning?”

I reach over him and tap the large touchscreen display. It lights up immediately. “What do you want?”

Linc gives me a pointed glance. “Coffee, Lance. I want coffee.”

“This is an espresso machine.”

“Fine. Americano, then.” He grabs a black mug from the stockpile next to the machine and sets it under the nozzle.

I press the correct button, and opt for an extra shot for grumpy-ass over here. His stubble is a borderline beard. Now that I’m looking, he looks like he’s been through hell. “Where’ve you been?” I ask.

“Sicily. Quick trip. Just had to threaten a buffoon,” he says. “I spent more time on the plane than on the job. Haven’t slept.”

“Why didn’t you sleep on the plane?”

He shrugs. “I still can’t sleep while traveling.”

The machine is relatively quiet as it whirs to life. Linc’s drink begins to drip into his mug. I swear he’s drooling impatiently as he waits. We’re quiet for a moment, both of us staring at the drip, arms folded, and then he breaks the silence.

“Can you keep a secret?”

“As long as it won’t cost your life,” I reply.

He turns his head, giving me a puzzled look. “What?”

“Nothing,” I mumble. “Yeah, I can keep it. What’s up?”

Linc exhales. “I really hate this thing. I miss our old, shitty coffee pot. We don’t need stainless steel appliances in a break room. This place is starting to seem like glamping.”

I hook my forefinger over my top lip to hide my smirk. “Well, I’m surprised you know what glamping is. But why is that a secret? You’re a grumpy caveman; of course, you’re scared of pretty things.”

I brace myself because I know what’s coming next. Usually, it’s Linc’s fist colliding with my shoulder—and that shit hurts. He has a fist like a metal boxing glove. But he must be too tired to react to my teasing.

“Eden’s working so hard on this place. I don’t want to discourage her.”

---