Page 65 of Come Find Me Tonight

Aside from some recent drama in the bedroom, I looked forward to that first thrust inside of her after we’d been busy with our separate lives. Sometimes when I first enter her, I hold still, enjoying her warmth enveloping me. She usually got annoyed with me since she liked it rough, but it was more than sex, too. The way she glued herself to me in her sleep, seeking my body heat, and waking up with our legs tangled was just as good.

Tonight couldn’t come fast enough.

I let myself daydream about what it would be like if we lived together. Would she want to move in with me or me to move in with her? Her house was enormous, and I liked my mid-century modern fixer-upper. On the slim chance she was pregnant, there was no way my house would be big enough, but raising a kid in LA didn’t feel ideal either.

Wow, this is a tangent.

I shake my head and turn the shower on. I shower fast…faster than normal. The mirror doesn’t have time to fog from the brisk shower. Spending the rest of the morning tangled up in Appa’s bed with her sounds like heaven, so the sooner I leave, the better. It’s funny to think I used to spend weekends filming, editing, and grocery shopping, but that time is spent with Appa now. So much so that I’ve fallen behind on my chores and started scheduling grocery deliveries instead. I finish my routine and throw on some clothes along with an extra set for tomorrow. And condoms from the PR box so that feisty blonde doesn’t kill me.

Yes, I checked the dates to make sure they were unexpired.

I also pick up an unopened bottle of wine. She liked this drier variation last weekend, and I’m glad I have another we can share tonight.

Always Tenuta Valenti labeled…where we belong.

I set my things on the front passenger seat of the Tesla and close the garage behind me and make a pit stop at a small coffee shop near her house. Luckily, they have a drive-thru, but it’s the busiest I’ve seen on a Saturday morning. I drum my fingertips on the steering wheel, matching the beat of the nineties grunge playing through the speakers while I wait. I should have just made coffee, but it would’ve cooled by the time I got to Appa’s. With a couple of cars ahead of me in line, I pick up my phone and search for stovetop coffee pots. By the time the cars ahead clear, I’ve ordered one to ship directly to her address.

I finally get through the drive-thru with our two drinks—a hot espresso for me and an iced latte for Appa. I had them add a couple of pumps of hazelnut syrup instead of vanilla. Her favorite quick breakfast that she doesn’t show is toast with Nutella spread on it. The heat of the toast makes the spread drip everywhere, and it’s sexy watching her lick it off her fingers.

I hope she likes the change in her usual drink order.

Turning onto her street minutes later, there seems to be more activity than normal. Her surrounding neighbors are standing outside, quietly chatting amongst themselves, and three police cars are parked in front of Appa’s house with their lights on. I slow my speed as I drive in front of her house just as she opens the front door. Three police officers stand in front of her, yet I still make eye contact with Appa through the window of my car. I can’t make out her expression or what she might be feeling.

Did she turn me in? Was this a trap?

My heart pumps fast in my chest, and my cheeks and ears feel so hot on my head. I continue driving past. The quiet motor of the Tesla doesn’t help.

It’s too quiet, and I’m alone with my anxiety.

I don’t understand. It had been a couple of months of heaven. I know I did bad things at first, but it was always for her. She got off on Rook and his danger, not me. The other night might’ve finally crossed the line, and she realized our relationship isn’t normal and too boundary-crossing. I know I was rough, but I always read her body and knew when it was too much. I know she didn’t get to that point the other night. I press the fingers of my free hand into my temple.

Father, forgive me for what I’ve done to her…

As I head home, I run conspiracy theories in my head. Oh, my fucking God, what if a crazy fan broke in? Or that guy? I tighten my grip on the steering wheel.

I’ll never forgive myself if he hurt her.

Fuck, do I turn around and backtrack now? It was on my weekend to-do list to work on encrypting and securing her home security. Appa was worried about copycats the other night, but she would have told me if she got a threatening message or comment. My stomach turns sour, and I’m not sure if I can finish my coffee now.

I pick up my phone and try to monitor the road while checking my notifications. There’s a text from Appa.

Appa: Why did you leave? I saw your car in front of my house.

My jaw clenches. I can’t respond to her right now. Not while I’m driving. Her message doesn’t seem like a warning. If someone broke in, she needs support, and I abandoned her. But she would have called me like the other night.

Goodbye, Appa, you’re never going to forgive me if I’m right.

I finally get home and park in the driveway. I take both coffees inside and set them on the breakfast bar and sit on the stool. The condensation trickles down the clear plastic cup as I rest my elbows on the breakfast bar. I don’t know what to do or how to fix this. I know what I did to her, but she knew she could say no or stop, and I would have. It took time to build that trust, but it was there.

Always.

Except the other night when she said stop just seconds too late.

She couldn’t have reported me. If it was an act, why draw it out? I tap my fingers on the counter next to our drinks. She has camera footage of me showing up at her house at all hours of the night when I was acting as Rook, and I left my DNA inside her, too. She had no reason to keep this thing going if her master plan was to call the cops on me, but that doesn’t stop the goosebumps running along my arms.

I flinch as the sound of my ringtone sends a lightning bolt through me. I glance down, and Appa’s face shows up on my phone screen from her saved contact photo. My thumb hesitates over the answer button, but I need to face her.

Please don’t let it be a break-in. Somehow, that feels worse than going to jail for assault because she’d be scarred for life.