Page 27 of His Dark Vices

With another groan, I pat around the bed for my phone without sitting up. When I touch the edge of it, not too far from me, I inch it closer, grab a firm hold, and quickly open up my messages. Nope, still nothing from Sam.

I toss my phone away and roll over to my side, facing away from my laptop and phone. I'll just keep doing the same stupid shit unless I get these thoughts out. No better time than now to pour my heart out to Companion.

I toggle the diary function on my band. Companion vibrates, then flashes, "What's up?" on the screen, indicating that it's listening and recording.

"Plagued by shitty writer's block that won't let up because there's nothing to talk about. Feeling like a failure about that. May have also just ruined what could have been an awesome relationship by taking my frustration out on Sam, even after he was trying to inspire me. Fuck, he was just trying to help." I pause for a second, letting that realization sink in. "Want to apologize but afraid he's moving on to bigger and better things. Praying I can at least make some progress with this article, have some kind of epiphany."

I finish with a sigh, and when nothing else comes to mind, I double tap Companion, letting it know I'm finished with the entry. The little vibrate it gives me feels encouraging, even if there's no one actually here to give me any further comfort. I've been journaling with Companion ever since the update pushed through, so it still kind of feels like confiding in someone.

I fight off how pathetic that feels as I sit up and take a deep breath.

Right, back to the grind.

I don't know if it was the journaling session, but the next hour or so goes by a bit better than I expected. It's not much, but I started focusing my research on the actor's dating history to somehow draw conclusions about what could possibly be going on now. I'm not proud of that, but the bulk of the article has to come from somewhere. Just when I'm getting in the groove and taking notes on why his previous relationship fell apart, my phone buzzes with a message.

I expect it to be my editor, so I snatch up my phone quickly, my stomach twisting into knots at the thought of reporting my lackluster progress. But it's a message from Sam: "I have a surprise for you. Get dressed in all black, don't wear makeup. I'll be there in 20 minutes. No questions."

I stare at the message, my heart starting to pound as my head is flooded with too many thoughts. He has a surprise, so he's notmad at me. Great! But I've just started to make a little progress, and it took so much effort to get here. My thumbs hover over the screen, ready to tap out a rejection, but the way his demeanor changed so quickly keeps my thumbs frozen in place. I don't feel awesome about leaving my work, but I don't feel good about rejecting him, either.

I want to see him.

In just these few days with no word from him, I've missed him. And I can't ignore the fact that I want a break from work right now more than anything.

A little outing can't hurt, right?

I jump out of bed and dive into my closet, wondering what black clothing I have. And he said no makeup. What's up with that? And I can't ask questions? Just what is he planning for me? And why?

I push clothes around, rejecting anything that isn't black, jumping between the dresser and the closet until I finally settle on a safe bet: a little black dress with long sleeves. I throw on a black pair of sheer tights, then take my hair out of its bun, letting my curls rain down around my shoulders. When I catch my reflection in the mirror, I look hopeful and eager, which explains my still-pounding heart.

I'm excited to see Sam, more than I thought.

I grab my phone and a black purse, then slip into a simple pair of black heels before racing out the door. It feels like I've been rushing these whole 20 minutes, so I'm grateful he isn't waiting outside when I get there. I have just a little time to catch my breath and think about what I'll say.

Wait, whatwillI say? I haven't said anything in days. If I wanted to apologize properly, I should have done it when I first got home from his loft. Or maybe he doesn't need an apology?

I'm so confused about the situation, but when his driver pulls up and then lets me into the car, I find out there's a completely different situation to be confused about.

"Here," comes Sam's muffled voice. "Put this on."

I blink uncomprehendingly at the simplistic wolf's mask he's wearing. I can see his green eyes peering at me through the eye holes, and I recognize his voice and hair, so I know it's him.

But why?

"No questions," he reminds me, pressing a white rabbit mask into my hands.

I open my mouth to speak, but all I have are questions, apparently ones that won't get any answers. Still completely baffled, I slowly fix the mask to my face, and when I'm done, I look at him silently, expecting him to offer some kind of explanation.

He doesn't.

He's wearing all black like me. Looks like we both chose long sleeves, but he went with a thin turtleneck sweater and pants. Still, he looks classy in his silver chain and watch.

I notice there's no alcohol chilling on the floor. That's disappointing. I could use something to break the ice, especially since Sam doesn't say another word until the car comes to a stop again.

The driver opens Sam's door, and he gets out, still wearing his mask. I look around the street, but no one is around to witness the spectacle. Sam opens my door for me and offers me a hand. I slip mine into his, and he closes his warm fingers around me. My heart flutters in my chest as I give him a squeeze.

"Keep an open mind," he murmurs, leading us into an alley between a couple of nondescript buildings.

My head is spinning as I look around, desperate to try to uncover the surprise. Nothing gives anything away, not even when we walk carefully down a set of concrete stairs that I didn'texpect to be there. It leads to a red door, which opens for Sam before he has time to knock.

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