Page 40 of Ripple Effect

I look up at him, our gazes locking. “I’m really glad I’m here, too.”

* * *

Under the softtouch of the Friday afternoon sun, I push open the door to Elio’s apartment. We drove separately today due to his free afternoon. And after spending a hectic morning on campus by myself, I ended up wallet-less at a coffee cart.

Hence, the detour I’m making now.

When I step inside, the first thing I notice is the quiet hush in the living room. Elio must be buried in his work by now, typing away or taking calls. And then, of course, I notice Bentley, his big fluffy tail wagging at the sight of me.

I kneel down, giving him a quick scratch behind his ears. I’ve only been home for a few minutes when I hear a groan ring out, soft and strained, and my heart lurches. The sound’s undoubtedly coming from inside Elio’s room.

Fuck, what if his heart’s giving him trouble again?

“Are you okay, El—?” I begin, heading down the hall. And then I hear his voice, deep and husky, much different from the way he usually sounds.

“God, baby,” he rasps. “I’ve been thinking about fucking you all day, the way your cunt feels wrapped around my cock.”

I reel back from the door, the heat rushing up my neck and spreading across my face like wildfire. He’s not alone, he’s not in pain. He’s in the middle of having sex with someone else. I thought he needed privacy for work, not ...this.

The hurt in my chest is irrational, but it takes root regardless.Why would he bother lying to me?

Feeling slightly numb, I grab my forgotten wallet from the kitchen counter, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—surprise, confusion, frustration. And something else. Something I don’t quite understand.

Jealousy?

God, it’s not like he owes me anything, but it feels like some sort of betrayal, a shift in the dynamics we’ve come to establish over the past week. So, I make a hasty retreat, the front door closing behind me with a soft click.

I walk back to my car in a complete daze. Then, without lingering too long, I flee, heading back to my own apartment for the first time all week.

When I finally arrive, it’s eerily silent. Gracie isn’t home yet, and I’m grateful for the solitude. The last thing I want right now is to explain my flustered state, to tell her about the compromising situation I accidentally walked in on.

Even still, I’m restless, my skin prickling with a strange, uncomfortable energy. I can’t sit still, my thoughts spinning, emotions churning. The thought of Elio having sex with someone, alone in his bedroom, shouldn’t make me feel this way.

Sex, in general, shouldn’t make me feel this way. It’s normal, natural, to have desires and to explore them when you’re single. I’ve been meaning to do so myself, even if it’s only through that fucking subscription site.

I’d signed up weeks ago now, spurred on by the idea of liberation and curiosity, but never really explored it beyond subscribing to a few profiles. I’ve been busy, distracted. Now—with the taste of Elio’s lies still fresh in my mouth, his moans echoing in my mind—I’m drawn back to the idea.

But first, I run a hot bath help to me unwind, to loosen the knots of tension in my muscles. I sink into the water, and it feels good, relaxing, despite the fact that I shouldn’t be here in the first place. I should’ve gone back to campus like I’d originally planned, distracted myself with an afternoon of bio.

Instead, I’m skipping out on my last class of the week, planning to pleasure myself to some random online account. But what the fuck ever. I’m in this too deep now to turn back.

So, once I’m done with my bath, I slip into a set of silk pajamas. They make me feel sexy, confident, unlike the way I’ve been feeling for the past month or so. Then I slide into bed, laptop balanced on my thighs, and click on a profile—one I’d subscribed to earlier, some muscular man who hides his face.

All I know about him is that he’s young, he has some visible tattoos, and he goes by the name of Everett Rain.

My heart hammers, a mix of anticipation and nerves working through my body. I try to calm my racing thoughts, to focus on what I’m about to do instead. Fishing in the top drawer of my nightstand, I grab the little toy I’d bought on a whim when I first started all this.

But just as I’m about to switch it on, my phone lights up with a call from the person I least want to hear from—Logan. I’m hit by a jolt of surprise, quickly followed by annoyance. This is the last fucking thing I need right now.

Ignoring the call, I work to refocus my attention. But then a text notification pops up, and against my better judgment, I check it.

Logan

can I please see you?

My heart sinks all the way down into the empty pit of my stomach.Why now, after weeks of silence?

I thought I was finally getting over him, finding a semblance of peace and moving on. But his simple question stirs me up inside, and I feeleverythingagain—pain, longing, betrayal, anger. It derails me, the anticipation of exploring AfterDark replaced by a familiar, quiet hurt.

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