Page 13 of Dash

Once I’m done scrubbing my bad decisions from my skin, I get ready for work. I tie my hair in a tight ponytail and pull on my uniform.

I already worked all week at my office job, but I had to take a second position in a small coffee shop to cover the rest of my bills. Living alone in a city is expensive as hell, and I would rather eat broken glass than ask my mother for help. But my two jobs barely get me through the month, leaving only a small amount for nights out—providing I get my drinks bought for me, and I’ve become pretty good at getting men to do that.

Somehow, I get through my shift, though I puke my guts up twice. The alcohol I chugged last night like it was water in the desert wasn’t so great coming back up.

By the time I finish, all I want to do is crawl into bed, but I have a message from Ivy asking if she can stop by. Rather than have her drag herself, Seren, and all the baby stuff with her, I go to her apartment.

When I knock on the door, my stomach is suddenly knotted. I hate the way my skin prickles and the way nervous energy spreads along my spine as I wait for her to open the door.

Dash isn’t going to be hiding behind the door.You’re not going to have to look your mistake in the eye.

Not yet, at least.

When she opens the door, I quickly gauge her mood, and the smile is easy, but there’s tension beneath it.

She steps aside to let me in, shifting her daughter in her arms. Seren is fucking cute, but I don’t know how Ivy does it. Kids are hard work.

And I would screw up a child far worse than I screw up myself.

“You got a new job?” she asks, nodding to my uniform as I slip my jacket off and flop onto the couch like a dying swan. My back is aching and my head is still doing the tango.

And I also don’t want to answer that question. Ivy knows about the lost Harrington fortune, about my dad going down for tax fraud, but sometimes I think she assumes I have my life together.

I don’t.

“It’s just for a month or two,” I lie. I’ve been working at the coffee shop for half a year. “I wanted a pair of shoes that cost more than my rent.”

Also a lie. I can’t remember the last time I bought anything designer—or anything that wasn’t necessary to survive. But even Ivy expects me to act a certain way, and I give her exactly that.

“You look… tired.”

“Hungover,” I correct as she places Seren in her bassinet. “Did you have fun last night?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes narrow. “I heard you did too.”

Great. She knows about me and Dash. I wave off any concerns she might have. “It was nothing. So have you and Riot set a date for the big day?”

She doesn’t let me side step or deflect. “Dayna. What happened?”

I blow out a breath. “I was drunk. Like really drunk and the man looks like a fucking Greek god. I’m only human, Ivy. Besides, what’s a little mutual fucking between two consenting adults?”

She stares at me, and I hate how exposed that makes me feel. “Dash is a good guy.”

I bristle at the implication, even though I know that’s not what she means. I roll my eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t corrupt your friend.”

“That’s not what I meant. I just… If you like him you should go for it. He’ll treat you good.”

Her words are like an icy bucket of water over my head.Commitment. Trapped in a relationship with someone peeking beneath my masks, trying to control me?No thanks.

“Babe, I wanted to get my vagina destroyed. Not settle down. I’ll leave the family vibes to you.”

Usually, I’m pretty good at selling my bullshit, but Ivy doesn’t buy it. She never does. This is the problem with knowing someone for so long. My best friend knows everything about me.

“I think that’s what you tell yourself so you don’t have to want it,” she says quietly, as if she hasn’t just ripped my chest open and left me bleeding on the floor.

I shake it off, steel my spine and become Dayna Harrington again.

“It’s really not that deep, Ivy. I wanted sex, and I got it. You don’t have to worry about deeper meanings. There are none. Dash probably doesn’t even remember my name or my face. I’ll just be another rung on his bedpost.”

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