Page 85 of Manhattan Tormentor

I ignore any mention of Sofia because he knows what’s going on with her, he gets his kicks poking me about it.

“Am I underdressed? Overdressed?”

He cackles again, reaching for a slice of apple pie and a fork in front of him. “Depends, seeing as I don’t know what you’re dressing for, orwho.”

“Forget it. Now get a move on, I wanna go.”

“I was gonna hang here, watch the game.”

“Not a chance, the last time I let you hang at my place I came home to your orgy. I had to burn the couch.”

He’s unrepentant as he laughs. “I paid half for the new one. And I brought a girl for you, not my fault you didn’t want any piece of the action.”

He might as well have offered me Hawaiian pizza that night for all the interest I felt seeing bouncing tits on my couch. So, yeah, that was the first and last time I let him hang at my place without me. My bonehead best friend needs strict supervision—maybe a nanny. Or he finds trouble wherever he goes, and I can’t afford to buy new couches every week.

“For real, where are you going and who are you doing?”

“I’m going nowhere and doing no one.”

“Sure,” he grins all-knowing like, wrapping the last piece of cold pizza in a napkin to take with him. He’s behind me when I lock my apartment, and he’s in step as I make my way down to my car.

“Hey, did I tell you I saw Damsel a few weeks back?”

I whip around so fast it’s a wonder I don’t break the small bones in my neck. It’s on the tip of my tongue to warn Bates not to call him that.

“Yeah, he was with some guy, looked chummy. I guess Damsel is getting some now he’s a big college man.”

My brain wants to detonate and I have to school my lungs on how they’re supposed to work as I drag in some air.

My jaw ticks like a fucking maniac picturing some random dude’s face slobbering all over Sage. I depress the lock to my car, holding my jealousy at bay. I’ve deliberately, for my own sanity, not thought about Sage dating.

Bates shoulder checks me, and he’s smiling when I turn my head. “Not ready to tell me, huh?”

“Tell you what?”

He looks weird when he smiles and shakes his head, “nothing, man. Thanks for the eats. Hey, whoever you’re tarted up for, you look good. Go get ‘em.”

I snort. “Okay, don’t go gay on me. Later, bro.” We bump fists and I climb in.

My nerves returning.

It’s now or never. I’ve waited too long already.

Worked too hard to shave off at least two-thirds of my asshole-self.

The drive across the NYU campus doesn’t take all that long. My heart is racing in my rib cage.

Part excitement, but dread too.

His apartment is around the block from where I have my first two classes. I didn’t know that and I smile for the convenience of being so near… for if he gives me another shot.

It holds a world of possibilities and I’ve held onto thoseif’sfor months.

Now it’s time to put it into action.

I stride up to the door and knock three times before pushing my hands into the front pockets of my jacket.

I swear I’ve practiced a speech for months now. All the shit I want to say and promise and amend for.

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