Page 15 of Bite
And yet here I am with a new roommate– one who doesn’t pay rent, sheds on the furniture, and thinks biting my fingers counts as affection. Still, I can’t complain. It’s kinda nice having another heartbeat in the apartment, and at least the kitten doesn’t judge me for my empty fridge and questionable life choices.
Even now, just sitting on my futon thumbing through an old magazine, the place feels less hollow. Outside, the city is dark, but in here, the floor lamp throws a weak yellow glow over everything. It’s barely enough light to read by, but I’ve learned to live with less. Less heat, less comfort, less everything– because less means cheaper. And cheaper keeps me afloat.
The chill still seeps through the walls, though, and I know it’s only a matter of time before I have to bite the bullet and turn on the heat to get through the worst months of winter. My breath feathers faintly in the air, but the warm weight pressed against my thigh almost makes up for it. The kitten is curled up andsnoozing contentedly, a tiny furnace in a fur coat. All in all, it's strangely… peaceful.
Until the chime of my phone cuts through the silence, that is. I nearly jump out of my skin, my new roommate diving off the futon and ducking underneath it for safety.
“It’s okay, little guy,” I chuckle, bending forward and wiggling my fingers to coax him back out. The kitten resists for a full minute before pressing his face into my palm, allowing me to scoop him up and plop him down beside me on the futon again. He settles in, his warmth seeping back into my leg like nothing even happened.
“Just my phone,” I tell him as if he can understand, reaching for it on the coffee table.
I swipe open the screen, blinking against the harsh light to find a new notification from the Bite app waiting for me.
You have a new engagement request!
My stomach swoops. I wasn’t expecting another request so soon, but considering my current situation, I’m in no position to turn down an opportunity to earn some cash.
Swallowing hard, I tap the app icon to open it.
Congratulations, Marilyn!
You’ve been selected for an engagement.
Still not sold on that name.
I thumb the notification, a profile picture filling my screen. Dark eyes, sharp cheekbones, and full lips that look like they’ve tasted every sin. His smile is half promise, half challenge, and I stare at the photo a little too long before scrolling down to view the details of the request.
Name: Sebastian
Physical Age: 23
Engagement Type: Standard Feed
Location: Lakeview, Private Residence
Time: 11:00 PM
Duration: 15 minutes
Compensation: $300
I hesitate for a beat longer than last time, thumb hovering. But hesitation doesn’t pay bills. Holding my breath, I hitACCEPT, and the next notification swiftly arrives.
Your pickup time is 10:40 PM.
Dress to impress according to Sebastian’s preferences: casual attire, hair braided.
Weird, but okay.
I spend the next hour showering and pulling an outfit together, agonizing over what constitutes ‘casual attire’. I finally land on a pair of fitted dark jeans and a white v-neck sweater, styling my hair into a loose braid that looks effortless but took way too much effort. I keep my makeup minimal– more out of necessity than choice, since I spent far too long picking out what to wear– and make it downstairs with two minutes to spare.
The black car arrives right on time, and I slide inside, the familiar hush wrapping around me as I sink into the leather seat. My palms are slick with sweat, heart hammering like a drum. Outside, the city blurs by, gray buildings and bare trees slipping past like ghosts.
I’m delivered to a skyscraper made of glass and steel, my legs a little wobbly when I step out of the car to head inside. The driver murmurs quick instructions for entry, and the next thingI know I’m riding an elevator up to a penthouse perched high above the city.
The doors part into a slick black foyer, and there he is.Sebastian.
For a second, my lungs forget how to work. This man’s profile photo didnotdo him justice.
