Page 55 of Baby Girl
Have I mentioned it to anyone?Right. Who, exactly? The only person I have is Oakley, maybe Will. But what the hell are they going to do?
But that’s not who he means, is it? He meansthem. Have I mentioned it to one of them? What, so they can sweep me back up into their orbit andlook after me? Take away all my choices and force me to do what they think is best for me?
No.
That won’t be happening again.
I’ll deal with this on my own.
The last of the rope is undone in silence, and because Darcy is a master of his craft, there is absolutely no discomfort. As soon as my arm is free, I cradle it to my chest as I stand, then take several steps away from Darcy and the chair.
He slowly stands from his crouched spot by the chair, rope dangling from his fingers, a crease between his eyebrows. “Emmy…”
I hold up a hand, stopping him before he can say something that will soften my walls or some shit. “Is the session over?”
His jaw tightens and he nods slowly, head barely moving. “Yes, but I was hoping to—”
“Okay, well, I’m going to grab my stuff and go.” With zero hesitation, I spin on the spot and dash toward the privacyscreen, quickly swapping back into my underwear, shirt, and shorts, and leaving the two-piece on the little bench seat that I found them on.
I slide my feet into my sneakers, then head back out as I shoulder the bag. “Our next session is Tuesday afternoon, right?”
Darcy hasn’t moved an inch, and his normally expressive face has gone completely flat. “Right.”
Nodding, I stride toward the closed door, not giving a fuck that it looks like I am fleeing from him, because that’s exactly what I’m doing. Fleeing. Running away. I don’t even bother saying goodbye, just open the door and slip out, back into the bustle of the warehouse.
I offer tight smiles to anyone I pass on the way out, and it’s not until I step into the sunshine and breathe in fresh air that I realize I don’t have a car booked to pick me up. Which is fine, it’s totally fine. I’ll walk to the next block and order one as I go.
There is no fucking way that I can stay here, not right now. As much as I tried to protect my walls from him, it has just become abundantly clear that, where I thought they were made of brick, they are actually made of artist’s clay before its been fired.
Chapter 30
Emery
I stare at Oakley. “You want me to go where?”
She rolls her eyes at me before taking a bite out of an apple, then pointing a manicured finger at me. “Don’t give me that look. It’s brunch with a bunch of people about our age. That’s it. Don’t make it a bigger deal than that.”
“With other sugar babies,” I add, because that is a pertinent piece of information.
“It’s no different from someone working at Walmart going out to lunch with their colleagues,” she argues before shooting a look over my shoulder toward the table where Xavier has set up camp with his laptop and fucking nerdy little glasses. “Help me out here. She needs to make more friends.”
Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. His opinion does not matter.
I look at him, because I apparently have no self-control.
Xavier doesn’t glance up from what he is doing. “She is fine the way she is.”
“Yes, I know you think she is fine. You moved in here because you think she is so fine. But I’m talking about expanding her fineness to other people in a purely platonic way. She can’t just have me and you. She needs more friends,” Oakley retorts before taking another bite of her apple.
“She’ll make friends when she is ready.”
“Uh, no. She won’t. She barely ever leaves this dorm unless it’s for a class or a modeling session with daddy number three.”
I whip my head back around to Oakley. “Firstly, I do so leave the dorm for other things. Secondly, maybe I don’t want more friends. And thirdly, daddy number three? What?”
Oakley waves a hand at me dismissively, shoves off the kitchen counter, and strides over to Xavier, tapping a finger on the notepad next to his computer. “Back me up.”
Xavier finally looks up from his screen and leans back in his seat, resting his elbow on the back of the chair next to him. “No.”
