Page 68 of Grease Monkey
Or the sound of heels clicking on the cement.
Not even focusing on a gasp—one I know too well—the breathy whisper that’s engrained in my brain. One I wish I could forget.
Her throaty “Oh my God” has my already hard dick turning to steel. Throbbing, practically weeping for someone it shouldn’t, just as I’m about to sink inside someone who isn’t her.
Fuck my fucking life.
Speak of the Devil, and she doth appear.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Morgana
A bare ass.
A muscly bare ass with slender feminine legs wrapped around their hips.
This can’t be right. I cannot be in the correct place. Except my poor, broken-down car sitting in the middle of the forecourt, the hood still half open, looking all sorry for itself, says I am indeed in the right place. Oh, shit. Have I walked in on Ozzy and his girlfriend about to have sex? I check my watch. It’s ten to eight in the morning. Surely, he wouldn’t be so reckless as to do something like that when heknewI was coming by.
A giggle snaps me out of my stupor, and my eyes refocus on the well-defined muscles of Ozzy’s butt, his tanned, thick thighs which make his white peachy cheeks stand out in the florescent lighting, and the slender feet with red painted toenails hooking around his waist to drag him closer.
Stop staring, Morgana!
“Oh my God,” I gasp, whirling around, my hands flying to cover my face.
“Oh my God,” the woman echoes in a screech, and I swear I can feel her embarrassment just as thickly as I can mine.
What a way to start my first day in a new city.
Hushed whispers, ruffling of clothes, and the distinct clipping of heels on concrete fill my ears as I keep my hand plastered across my eyes.
“I am so sorry,” I murmur, standing still with my back to them, unable to give my brain the signals needed for my legs to move far, far away from here. I don’t really need a car, right? Uber can be expensed to the company. “I didn’t mean to just walk in. I—I called out, but no one…”
“Fuck.” The word, gravely and harsh, is choked out in a voice I’d recognize anywhere. One I know doesn’t belong to Ozzy. One I can still hear in my dreams.
Dizziness is hard and fast and so insanely numbing that I’d half expect to look down and see someone reaching inside my chest and wrapping their ice-cold hands around my heart. The pain that lances through me shouldn’t be as intense as it is and so it the jealousy of this gorgeous woman getting to call Teddy hers. They don’t deserve a place to exist at seeing him with someone else. I’ve moved on, and so should he. He deserves to be happy. But now I’m back to being seventeen, lost in a boy I know I could never have when I watched him with Brittany. Except this time, I’ve had the chance to know how gentle his touches are, how beautiful the sound of his laugh is, and how cherished I felt when I was with him. And now that’s all hers.
God, why is it with over 1.5 million people in Phoenix, the second person I have to meet ishim?
And when did breathing become so hard?
Please, world, please open up.
“Shit, Teddy, I’m going to be late.” The words kick-start my brain as Teddy’s girlfriend speaks in the same impatient, clipped voice from the café earlier. “Your coffee’s on the side. I’ll drop by later or…”
Finally, my legs move, shaking and unsteady, as I make my way back to the door and out into the street. I’m still sleeping. This has to be my subconscious playing games. Ready to push the door open, my heel snags on something, and my hand darts out, flailing around for something to grab onto to stop me from falling, but lands on a stack of tires. A tin can balancing precariously close to the edge knocks over, spilling everywhere. Nuts, bolts, and other bits slide across the stone floor, each rattle startling, and with my foot stuck, the only direction I can go is down, which is what I do, bringing the entire pile of tires down with me.
“What the fuck is going on?” Ozzy flies through a doorway, leaning over a set of metal stairs to see what made the noise, his hair disheveled and a thunderous look on his face as he looks around.
I sag farther into the ground, sucking my lips between my teeth, begging myself not to cry as the unmistakable telltale wobble of my chin starts. How embarrassing.
Not here. Not now. Please.
Coming here was a bad idea. Phoenix was a bad idea. But glancing back over to the boy whose heart I broke is the worst idea.
Hatred, as I’ve never seen before, stares straight back as he tugs at his overall zipper—seven years of resentment and betrayal lasered in my direction and the mess I’m currently surrounded in. I look away quickly, unable to keep eye contact, and as short as it might have been, I didn’t miss a thing. The dark beard cut close to his jaw, the cords of veins rippling up his forearms and diving under the sleeves of his white Henley, the same baseball hat slung on backward as he did all those years ago. He’s changed so much, yet not at all. No longer the boy who lived next door, but the man he always wanted to be.
Ozzy appears by my side, pushing a tire off my leg, gently grabbing my forearms, and helping me to my feet.
