Page 63 of Ravaged
She follows me inside the house, closing the door behind us. I drop my purse off on the couch and make a beeline for the kitchen. Jesus be a fence, this is not how I imagined my morning after a night of the hottest sex ever. Would it be too much to ask for some privacy to think over what happened the night before ... well, not too closely. I might not make it into the office if I go overeverydetail. But after leaving with Jordan—him to the arena, and me home—I looked forward to some quiet time to consider where we go from here. We can’t go back to what—who—we were. I meant what I said to him. This wasn’t a mistake. I could use the excuse of falling on his dick the first time. But last night? It was a deliberate, conscious decision.
So are we still friends? Lovers? Friends with benefits?
I swallow a snort. Right. Because every romantic comedy ever filmed depicts how well that arrangement pans out.
But that’s not going to happen with my sister sitting at my breakfast bar, staring at me with her all-too-knowing eyes.
“What was so urgent you needed to show up at my place and wait on me in the dark?” I ask, glancing at her over my shoulder as I slide a pod in the coffee maker and a cup underneath. “The times when you waited up on me to make sure I came home safely are long gone. Oh wait.” I tap my bottom lip. “That’s right. You never did that.”
Zora bends her fingers, making grabby hands toward the mug of coffee. “Hurry up with that. I’m going to need caffeine if we’re going to have this conversation.”
I finish brewing her a cup and then set it down in front of her. After retrieving the creamer from the refrigerator and grabbing the sugar off the opposite counter, I leave her to doctor her coffee and turn to fix another one.
“You sound a little bitter about that.”
I shrug a shoulder, my back to her. “Do I?” I pause, examining the snarl of emotions tangled around my ribs like messy yarn. “I didn’t think I was. But I don’t know, maybe a little? Then again, is that fair? When most girls were dating in high school and having their older brother and sister checking in on them, I was thirteen or fourteen, too young to do any of that. And in college ...” I shift my gaze to the steadily brewing coffee, the dirty string pulling tighter, snarling more. “Well, we weren’t in the same house, so that was a moot point. Wasn’t like you could run interference when you were living your own lives.”
“And the one time you needed me to be there, I wasn’t,” she murmurs.
I turn around, scowling. “Don’t make me regret telling you about Robert Sampson.”
After picking up my mug, I carry it over to the breakfast bar and snatch her spoon away from her. With jerky movements, I sweeten my coffee to the perfect blend of can-I-get-some-coffee-with-that-cream-and-sugar and set the utensil back on the bar top. I’m still glaring at her as I lift the cup for my first hit of the day.
“News flash, Miriam. I’m not ever going tonotfeel guilty about you going through that shit alone.”
“That’s like me feeling guilty for not warning you that douche-canoe accountant you dated would stick his dick in anything that moved.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s so not the same thing, and you know it.”
I prop my forearms on the bar top, leaning forward and arching an eyebrow. It’s my know-it-all expression that pisses her off, and I have time today.
“How isn’t it the same? Did you know he was a serial cheater when you first met him? No. Did I know you were dating a serial cheater? Also no, not until long after the fact. And did I feel helpless that the motherfucker hurt my sister and I could do nothing about it? Yes.” I cock my head. “Parallels, ma’am. Parallels.”
“I hate it when you use logic to prove your points. It’s irritating as hell,” she grumbles.
I grin. “Right? It’s a gift.”
“Using logic or pissing people off?”
“Both.” I shrug. “Why must I choose?”
She chuckles and lifts her cup, takes a sip. “To answer your question, I don’t really know why I decided to wait it out on your porch this morning. I couldn’t sleep. And Cyrus wouldn’t let me drive up to Jordan’s house. Told me to stop being a nut. So hanging out on your step it was.” She eyes me over the rim of the mug. “I was worried. Call it sister intuition or whatever. But I needed to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m ... okay.”
“That sounded very convincing.”
Zora doesn’t say anything, just sits there and continues drinking coffee, letting the silence stretch until it fairly screams. And so do my nerves.
“I had sex with Jordan,” I blurt out. “Again.”
More sipping. And eying.
“Say something. You came all the way over here at the butt crack of dawn and sat in the cold for an hour. So sayanything.”
“I thought you said the first time was a mistake and wouldn’t happen again. I believe you said you’d never partake of community peen ever again, if my memory serves me. Which is why you friend-zoned him. That, and he’s an athlete. And you—”
“Don’t do athletes,” I finish in unison with her. “I know, I know.” I groan. “I might not, but my vagina is all-aboard the athlete train.”Sighing, I straighten. “I can fool myself into calling that first time a slip, a lapse in judgment, or scratching an itch. But the truth is I’ve been attracted to him from the start. And it’s more than physical—although, I mean, c’mon. Look at him. But I’ve never had friendships with my one-night stands. Jordan ... scares me, Zora.”
