Page 28 of Sweet Shots

Chapter Eleven

Mikah

I was supposed to be at Dominic’s house an hour ago to talk specifics on his video, but I haven’t gotten out of bed. He’s called many times. Texted. And he’s currently banging on my front door. But I can’t move.

I’m pissed at myself for the way I acted in the photoshoot and the video. Mostly pissed at how I acted in between, when I let him get me off for no fucking reason at all other than I wanted it. Why the hell did I want him to touch me? Why did I come so quickly? And why the fuck did I come on demand? That has never worked on me before, and honestly, I always thought it was bullshit. The first time, I figured it was just a coincidence. I was so close anyway. But the second time, in the video… It can’t be a coincidence twice in the same day.

All of this has been bugging me. Pissing me off. I’ve been in a bad mood since I left the studio two days ago, but what really has me mad today is the fact my bank got back to me and toldme they don’t have enough proof to show that my transactions were fraudulent and they won’t be reimbursing my money. The thought has me sick to my fucking stomach.

It took me years to acquire all that money. And thank fuck, I was smart enough to make sure my big expenses were paid off. Yes, I’ll get more money, but I’m a mess without something to fall back on. And the ironic part is I’ll have that once I get this video done with Dominic, but I just can’t seem to pull my head from my ass, put my emotions aside, and get it done. I’m never this emotional. What the hell is wrong with me?

The banging stops, and I let out a sigh of relief as I roll over, hugging my pillow tighter. My eyes fall closed, and I wish I could fall back asleep. I’m just about there when I hear heavy footsteps on my stairs. I sit up just as Dominic storms into my room.

“How the fuck did you get in?” I bark.

“Climbed through your window. What the fuck is your problem?”

“You climbed through my window?” I grit out.

“That’s what I said. Now answer me. What is your problem? You were supposed to meet me over an hour ago. I did everything you wanted. We have a contract. You can’t blow me off.”

“I’m not blowing you off,” I growl.

“No? Looks like it.” He gestures around. “It’s not like an emergency came up. You’re just lying in bed.”

“An emergency did come up,” I say, dropping to the bed and covering my eyes with my arm.

“What is wrong with you? Did someone die?”

It’s a good thing they didn’t, because he’s the last person I’d want to console me. He probably fucking sucks at it. He has a terrible bedside manner. I mean, who storms into someone’s bedroom and barks,what is your problem?at them when they look as depressed as I do?

“No one died,” I mutter.

“Then tell me what the fuck it is. Don’t think just because I’ve been nice that I’ll ignore the fact we have a contract. I will—”

“Yeah, okay, I get it. Fucking hell.” I sit up, throwing my legs over the side of the bed. “Do you have any sympathy at all? Christ.”

“Of course I do,” he says, sounding offended.

“I’d love to see it,” I mutter, more to myself than to him.

The bed dips, and I whip my head toward him. He’s sitting right beside me. So close our legs are almost touching.

“What’s going on?” he asks in a tone that has me almost believing he cares. All teasing is gone. There is no humor in his eyes. His face is serious, not showcasing that stupidly annoying but handsome smirk he pulls off too well.

“Are you kidding?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m not. You need sympathy? I’ll give it to you. You’re the one who said you didn’t want to involve personal things, and I figured the easiest way to do that was to keep being a dick. But now you want something different, so…” He shrugs.

“I’m not talking to you about myproblems.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re…you,” I say, getting to my feet. “I don’t like you.”

“I’m starting to think you don’t like anyone.”

I choke out a laugh. “I like plenty of people.”

---