Page 28 of Toy No More

As if he realizes I am seriously weirded out and won’t let it go just because he makes a charming expression, Apollo sighs and nervously looks down while digging his foot into the ground. “I…wanted to get an idea of who you really are and stuff. Where you live, what you do outside of work. Things like that.”

I’m still not sure I follow. Tilting my head, I step back. “But wh—” Exhaling, I rub my face and try to wrap my mind around it another way. “If you were curious about my life, you could’ve just asked,” I say with a bewildered chuckle.

Apollo seems taken aback, blinking at me like he doesn’t understand English. Like it didn’t even occur to him to ask me instead of following me.

Why would he be here?

Why would he care to know anything about me in the first place?

I watch him sink deeper into the safety of his thick hoodie, and I can’t tell if it’s shame or remorse that flashes over his face.

There’s no point in us doing this in the middle of the street, out in the cold, like we’re in some kind of stand-off. I click my tongue and turn toward the stairs. “Just come inside, we can… You can try to explain whatever this is to me there,” I say in a resigning voice.

Apollo draws in a breath before nodding and follows me upstairs.

My bag of groceries still lies there. I bend down to pick stuff up, making sure no packaging is split or ruined. Thankfully, it all seems fine. As I straighten back up, Apollo gives me an apologetic smile that I return before finally opening the door.

This is so strange. Apollo is…in my apartment.

To make matters even more awkward, both Marci and Skyler sit on the couch watching TV. The moment we get in, they’re both already turning with unabashedly exaggerated faces of surprise, staring at Apollo as if they’ve never seen another human being in their life.

“This is…” I stumble over my words, having to clear my throat before I continue. “This is, um, someone from work. I ran into him,” I mutter. As quickly as possible, I throw the things that need to be in the fridge inside, leaving the rest on the counter. “I got all we needed. We’ll be in my room.”

Why does this feel like I’m a teenager bringing my boyfriend home for the first time?

I roll my eyes at myself and purge those thoughts, nearly pushing Apollo toward my room. Marci and Skyler both stare without a word, but right before I close the door behind us, I see a corner of Marci’s mouth tug upwards.

Once it’s just me and Apollo trapped in my bedroom, I realize how messy it is.

No, no, no. No time to think about that. This is abouthimexplaining this mess.

“So?” I ask, crossing my arms across my chest while Apollo makes himself comfortable at the end of my bed. He takes down his hood and ruffles his hair a bit to fix it up. It’s as puffy and attractively wild as always, only not as styled.

It’s strange how even in a damn hoodie and the most basic clothes, he looks…alluring. Or maybe it’s just my fucked up mind that somehow associated him with what he does at the Dollhouse, objectifying him unintentionally.Shit. Get it together.

“I take it that was your brother and mother back there?” Apollo asks curiously, making eyes at me like he probably does at his clients when he wants them to do what he wants.

I frown. “Shouldn’t you already know? Since you’ve already done a background check on me or whatever, considering you have my address and all?”

Apollo seems to finally get that I’m not letting it go and lets his eyebrows fall down, shifting his face into a more serious expression. “I didn’t do a background check,” he says in a low voice, leaning back against his arm. Exhaling, he rolls his head to rest against his shoulder, looking at me. “I found your address from a notebook Jasper keeps at home. It has the basic information of everyone who works for him. Name, birth date, address, that sort of thing. That’s it. He likes keeping tabs on people.”

Of course he fucking does. Damn it. But why isApollohere?

“I’m sorry, alright? I know this is weird, and I’m sorry for freaking you out,” Apollo says, maintaining hesitant eye contact. He sounds genuine.

After a moment of silence, his gaze dips and he seems to zone out a little.

“Before Jasper brought me into the Dollhouse, I spent years working for all sorts of gangs. A bulk of that time, I was being used as someone to get into important people’s rooms, into their beds, and once they were asleep or had their guard down, I’d dig around, looking for whatever info my boss needed. So I guess doing this to see what sort of person you are instead of ‘just asking’ was my first instinct.”

My chest tightens at the way he speaks, and I start feeling bad for reacting so harshly.

“Besides, people don’t tend to be very honest in this line of work,” he adds with a shrug. “I shouldn’t have…expected you to be the same, okay? Not that I know you well enough to know what to expect, but…again, I apologize,” he says, sounding like he doesn’t do that very often.

No wonder. How could anyone be angry at that lovely face and those dreamy eyes?

I gulp, urging myself to keep my thoughts straight, and shift my weight in front of him. “Marci isn’t my mother. She’s like…my aunt, but we’re not related. Since I can remember, she’s been here for me and my brother. Even when those who should’ve failed at that miserably,” I note bitterly, feeling that familiar burn of simmering hatred in my heart.

“I see,” Apollo says, tilting his head again. Why does he keep studying me like this? He has this strangely pensive expression, and he doesn’t even seem to hide it. “Is that why…” He pauses intently, glancing toward the door. “Your brother. He’s got fetal alcohol syndrome, right? Is that why your mom isn’t around?”

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