3

Eliza

I

’m shaking so hard that I can barely hold my phone. I can’t believe this is happening. The money is real and it’s in the bank, my rent is paid, and he’s coming back with more

once I finish his painting!

I almost want to run out to the boutique and work on it under the light of the moon, just to get it finished sooner. My excitement comes not only from my ability to make more money, but also from seeing Lev again.

Oh my god, he’s so handsome. I don’t think I’ve ever met a man with a jaw so powerful and pronounced. And those eyes… Fuck, he could electrocute me with them and I’d probably have an orgasm from the pain.

Nothing like Noah. Oh, good God, no. I don’t even want to compare the two.

My mind is racing. I can’t think straight.

I sit down on my bed, looking out the window and wondering how many people are out there tonight, falling in love, breaking up, getting drunk, sobering up. In my little hometown, once the clock struck midnight, nobody was out but the sheriff. If you were out, you’d be doing something you weren’t supposed to, and you could be equally sure that you’d be getting caught.

Those memories feel so quaint when I look outside and see dozens of people passing by my little apartment every minute. This city never sleeps. It keeps its eyes wide open, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

It’s no wonder I can’t sleep either.

I get up from the bed, forcing myself to leave my phone behind as I make myself a cup of tea. One of the first things I did after I deposited the money Lev gave me was buy some groceries. It’s been weeks since I’ve had my favorite tea, but now I finally have a container of it calling to me from the cabinet above the stove.

Earl grey. My brother Jake used to make himself a London Fog with it every morning and drink it on the porch with my grandfather. We lost both of them in the same year and it was the hardest thing I ever had to endure.

I think that’s why my breakup with Noah ended without a single tear. It was a bittersweet realization that he wasn’t going to be coming with me to New York, compared to losing a brother and a grandfather the year prior.

I just packed my bags and took Noah up on his unsavory ultimatum – stay here or we’re done. I was so numb that nothing held any weight.

Things haven’t felt real since, but I think it’s helped me push past my doubts. I just… don’t care what anyone thinks anymore.

I start the kettle I stole from Jake’s room after he died. My parents wanted to keep things exactly as they were, like he’d still be coming home from the army once his deployment was finished, but I knew I had to keep something to remember him by. The only thing that came back home was a flag and a letter, and that wasn’t enough to keep me around.

They can wait. I know he’s not coming back. I’ve made peace with it.

When the kettle starts whistling, I take it off the heat and pour the water into my mug. Jake used to pour it from such a height that it would splatter all over the counter.

Cheap laminated particle board. The boiling water would make little spots all over it, and our parents would throw a fit, acting like he was destroying expensive granite.

They’ve always been a bit uptight. That’s why we haven’t talked much since Jake died. The only real relationship we had was through him, and once he left, there wasn’t anything to say.

I feel bad for them, but I have a life. Jake would understand. He left to follow his dreams, and he’d want me to do the same.

That’s why I smile when I put the tea to my lips and take a sip. It tastes like orange peels and success. It tastes like doing what I love and proving everyone wrong who said I couldn’t.

Maybe it’s too soon to celebrate, but if not now, then when?

Gotta appreciate the little things. That’s how my grandfather was. Even in the wake of Jake’s death, he was blowing out candles and singing happy birthday with everyone at the table.

Two days later, he had a heart attack and died, but for me, that’s just more motivation to keep moving and do things the way I want to do them. Tomorrow isn’t a guarantee, so I’m taking today and having fun with it.

And by fun, I mean drinking tea in my pajamas while I fantasize about what a man like Lev could do to a woman like me.

Would he take his time?

Or would he want all of me, all at once?

I thought I had outgrown such fantasies, but the simple act of meeting eyes with Lev has reignited the flame that went out after I lost two people back-to-back. Noah couldn’t do this. He could barely get me wet, but Lev has me dripping and he’s not even here.

Dangerous. Yeah, he’s definitely not someone I should be fantasizing about, but I do it anyway. It’s not like he’ll ever know. His eyes cut right through me, but he can’t read minds.

I take another sip of my tea and close my eyes, crossing my legs and using the seam down the middle of my pants to give

myself pleasure. The feeling is explosive even without my hand.

I haven’t masturbated in six months, and my body is begging me for release.

But I don’t succumb to my cravings. It feels wrong to derive pleasure from a stranger, a man who doesn’t even know me. Had he come on to me, revealing his attraction and allowing me to indulge in a mutual fantasy, I’d allow myself to slip.

But as it stands, it feels wrong. He’s trying to help me, and all I can think about is what it would feel like to have his hands on my throat.

My cheeks burn hot with shame, and I uncross my legs. A cold shower, more tea, and I’m finally able to sleep.

Get out of my head, Lev Andreev. Please, get out before I do something I shouldn’t.