Page 20 of Damsel in Defense
When we reach the condo entrance, she stops at the doors.Her head tilts to look up at me.
“I didn’t hate that,” she says.
“High praise.”
“You joined me in having a cookie for breakfast.That helps.”
I grin, shaking my head at her weirdness.The cool AC hits us as we step through the entrance, making us both sigh in relief at the same time.
That makes us burst out laughing.Her shoulder nudges into mine as we walk the final steps to the elevator.
When we reach her floor and the doors open, I catch her hand one more time.Three quick squeezes.
“I’ve got you,” I say.
Her eyes lock on mine.There’s something behind them I can’t quite read.
She doesn’t pull away.
Instead, she squeezes my hand back and nods once.“I’ve got you too.Good night, Mason,” she whispers, the door sliding closed.
“Good night, Victoria,” I say back to my mirrored image.I hope she heard me.
Letting myself into my condo, two things occur to me at once:
This plan is going to work.
And I’m in way deeper than I planned.
CHAPTER EIGHT
VICTORIA
I blow a piece of hair out of my face and glare down at the chaos of planks, bolts, washers, and two entirely useless little Allen keys littering my bedroom floor.Falling backward from my hunched position, I run both hands over my face, pushing the lone strand of hair out of my way.
Somewhere in this mess is supposed to be a bed frame.One that the website and delivery person swore was “simple” to build.I’m such a sucker for believing them.An absolute fool.
I can’t believe I thought putting this stupid thing together would be a breeze.How hard could building a bed frame really be?It’s a square, for crying out loud.
Fucking hard is the answer.
There’s a very specific kind of rage reserved for people who think “some assembly required” is a fun challenge.
My watch vibrates on my wrist, and I look down to see my heart rate has spiked.Fantastic.My wellness watch thinks I’m exercising.My anger is so high I’m in my target zone.
The only thing I’m exercising is my patience.It’s taking everything in me not to throw a massive fit and decide that sleeping on a mattress on the floor for the rest of my life is a choice I made on purpose.
I’ve spent the last forty-five minutes trying to connect side A to panel B, but every time I move to the opposite end to screw in the other side, the whole thing collapses like a toddler’s block tower.
The first time the joints popped apart, I shrugged.
The third time it happened, I took a deep, calming breath.
Now, I’m on attempt who-knows-what, and I’m livid.Likelivid.
The downside is that I’m so toxically independent I refuse to stop until I solve this problem.I will not give up until I’m a sobbing mess on the floor.
“Super healthy, Tori,” I mutter to myself as I wedge one piece of the frame against the wall and hold it with my foot.Then, reaching as far as I can to the other side, I try and twist the Allen key—with absolutely no luck.
