I get back into my work groove. I have loads of vacation days and a valid excuse to call off. Yet I don't want to be at home like a beached whale. Also, I need more than movies to keep me occupied. Time goes fast when you're busy. Being active is better than stuffing my face and watching TV. On my way out to work, Lil, who washes the dishes, asks, "are you sure you want to go back? We have emergency days."

"I'm sure." I open the door.

"Are you taking a ride?"

"I'm walking."

"How about on the way home?"

I face the kitchen, pulling my thumb holes farther down my hands. "I'll walk."

"At night? By yourself?" She steps into the bedroom and crosses her arms.

"I'll be careful."

"You could ask Brad for a ride," Lil says with an edge to her voice. She's sour about me talking to him again.

"I..." I pull at the thumb holes. "I can't do a car...I can't." I admit drearily.

Lily drops her arms and comes to hug me. "Aww..." Her hands rub down my forearms. "Sorry...I wasn't thinking. How about you give me 15, and we both walk? How about that?"

"That works."

"Okay, I'll get ready." She goes to my closet. "There's pepper spray in my bag, in the side pouch."

I eye her gym bag of clothes at the foot of the bed, then go to unzip the pouch. The long, black sprayer has a clip on the end. I add it to my dress pants loop. I used to hate these trousers for eliminating my hips and ass, but now I don't care. My sex appeal is buried six feet below...along with my past self.

I follow orders at work like a robot. My witty and engaging demeanor is no more. I simply serve and repeat two phrases in a bland tone. "Hello, what drink would you like?" and "thank you, have a nice day." All the advances from men are given no response, no raunchy retort or playful flirting. I'm a simple bartender who zips through orders faster than usual. My lackluster mood is obvious to all around me. Lily even notes my detachment.

There are sympathetic stares from everyone in the banquet hall whenever they look my way. There's pity, sadness, and shame in all of their eyes. Everyone knows who I am...and what happened. I can't escape it. I decide to skip lunch and head out for a walk to avoid the overbearing gazes from everyone.

I turn the knob of the main door, wishing for nothing more than to disappear. "Madison, wait up." Sam summons me to the receptionist's desk. I glide over stiffly. "Umm...we all put something together for you. For, you know..." He scratches the back of his head and retrieves a tip jar from under the desk. "Everyone pitched in...I know it's not much."

"No, it's perfect. You guys didn't have to." I express gratefully.

"It's the least we could do." He drops his hand from his brown hair. "I'm sorry about all my joking. If it's offensive now, I'll stop..."

"Sam." I shake my head dismissively. "No worries, thank you." I accept the jar with a rushed grin and head to the locker room. That's nice of the crew. It's already impossible to get good tips here. The fact that they gave what little they had is the greatest. It's about $50.

A short girl with pink hair jogs into the locker room. "Hey...I see you got the gift." She points to the jar. "We're all going out later to the carnival. You should come. It'll be fun...you could use some cheering up." She adds sentimentally.

I scroll the combination lock and put the jar inside with my phone. "I'm usually tired after work..."

"Mr. Thompson is letting us leave early."

"Look..." I close the locker roughly. "I get that you all feel bad for me. The donation was nice enough. That's all that needs to be done." I strain. "I don't need special treatment."

"Oh..." The girl twiddles her thumbs and shrugs. "I'm sorry if it came across that way." She grimaces before leaving.

I massage my temples and sit on a bench. I should've stayed home. I should leave early. Then again, I don't want to be home. I'm going stir crazy. I'm losing my mind. My hotel will remind me of my call with Brad.

I'm trying to avoid thoughts of him. He's still mad at me. All of our texts are short. I'm still on punishment. He needs time to cool down, and I need time with an eased mind. I thought work would help. I glance up at a clock over the table. It's 5:30 pm. I can do it. I can do the two and a half hours. I need to busy myself.

I find a tall stack of cash at my bar station. Huh? I look around to see if Jace is here. He's not. It's Tuesday; his week is sown up with business travels. I checked. So, who left this? "The bastards need a tragedy to leave a big tip." Lil's voice sounds from across the bar. "I heard you have a jar full of cash, too. We can put it towards college."

"Yeah, we can," I respond with a pep in my voice. "UCLA!"

"Yasss!" Lil raises her hands in celebration. "That's at least $7k."

I pull out the drawer below and scoop the cash into it. "That's really nice of them."

"About time they rich asses gave something." She leans onto the counter and surveys me. "Are you alright enough to stay?"

"I am."

"Good, you need to get back to normal."

"Davidson!" Lil does an animated hop before running off toward the tables. "Thank you!" Mr. Thompson strides my way. "Madison, how are you? If you need any time away, just let me know."

"I'm able to work."

"Just know you can go if this is too soon."

"Thanks."

"I have Sydney and Robb for backup in case you change your mind about the 4th of July."

"I'll be here."

At home, I soak my feet and online shop. The money I got today is mostly going to savings, but I need more clothes—the less revealing kind. I fill my Shein cart with long sleeve graphic tees, v-necks, leggings, jeans, and long socks. After I purchase, I sort my closet. The sexy short dresses and heels I have, are stored in a trash bag.

When done, my wardrobe has five outfits hanging. Outfits that I used to wear before Lil spiced me up. I'm dressing like a virgin again, which is good. I'll only show my skin on my honeymoon when it'll be presentable. I need to do heavy work on it. Bleaching cream, perhaps, so I'm no longer ugly. I wish Brad was here to lighten my mood.

I text him: Hey, can we have a date night? I go to the fridge to grab milk to swallow my pain meds.

Brad: Sure. My place. I'll pick you up.

Me: You could come over here...js.

Brad: Why not my place?

I exhale longingly and type: I can't be in a car after what happened. Pls, could you come over?

Brad: Alright, sweety, be there soon ❤️

Me: ❤️

I change into a pastel floral blouse with puffy sleeves and slip into white jeans. I wash my hair and tidy up my bed and bathroom. I add more makeup to the body scars around my chest and neck. Every place else is covered by clothes.

I text again while blow-drying my hair: Pizza? I comb through the wetness.

Brad: Is that the only meat on the menu 😈

Me: stop it 🤭😳

Brad: make me 😘

I place a pizza order from Domino's and go to a mini-fridge for a bag of fries. Lil stocked up well enough for the week. There's sandwich meat, breakfast food, burgers, and hotdogs. I pluck out Pepsi. I power on the pressure cooker and set the temp to 300 degrees. Then snap open the bag of fries and dump some in.

I get an alert from Twitter. I follow Jace's profile. My hand closes the cooker's lid, then taps to read it. His official account has a black and white title of his company as the background. His main photo is so dominant. Hands in pockets, head balanced, and a gaze so alpha that a lion would cower.

He confuses me. Is he a nice guy or not? Or is that pose done for a persona? The Jace from the hospital and beach house is nothing like what I see here. He's portrayed as a cold man, not as the caring one I know him to be. Doesn't he want that side of him spotlighted to the world?

The post, which is ten seconds old, has 59 retweets already. It reads: Product Scavenger Hunt: Glass.

There are loads of comments below:

Is the new WIP a glass car?? Tell us!! 🤪

Hmm...maybe it's a glass replacement or something?

Omg, it's a glass dick. I knew it! 😝

Could we get another hint? That's pretty broad.

What you cooking in that lab of yours?? 👀👀

Knocking from the door breaks my attention. I lock my phone and scurry to it. It's been so long since we've seen each other. The last time was his tirade. I can't wait to see him. I missed him.

I open the door and am immediately flattened against the wall. Brad slams the door, lifts me by the waist and suckles my mouth. I grip his neck and return the strenuous kissing. We eat each other's lips and tongues. He takes one of my hands and wedges it on his dick. The guttural groan that escapes him makes me tighten my hold.

Oh god...that sound! It's killing me!

"I want you in bed." Brad nibbles at my neck and compresses my breasts with his hands. I cry out. "You need to be fucked." His ravenous eyes dictate the situation. Brad guides me to the bed and plops me down. Unbuckling his pants.

I sit up. "Could we just play?" I watch him unzip his fly. "Brad? You know I'm waiting...."

"Are you serious?!" He complains.

"I am."

"If I were Jace, you wouldn't be opposing, would you?" He crawls onto the bed and halts above me. "You owe me...you cheated. If you say no, that's selfish." Brad pins my arms down.

"I wouldn't...and I didn't! Can you stop?!"

He observes me with despising eyes. "You're being difficult...you can't deny sex until your honeymoon; that's impossible. Maddy, you want it." His hand slides into my jeans; he uses the other to pull his pants down.

The room spins and buzzes. My heart bangs my chest. "No..." My mouth moves, but I don't hear the words over the white noise of my ears.

My hands whack at his chest and aim for his neck. He restrains my wrists with one hand and flips me around with the other. My pants are wiggled down and thrown across the floor. I kick and scream. Brad's dick draws a line down my underwear...down my ass line.

Quick flashes of a wedding gown invade my sight. Two hands wearing engagement rings...and a veil dropping across my head of blonde hair. There's an abrupt glance of the groom, too fast to distinguish a face. His hair isn't brown. It isn't Brad!

My eyes stream tears. The tip of his penis hovers right at my hole. I hear him spit to lubricate it. "It isn't you!" I blurt, "It isn't you!!"

"What did you say?"

"You don't love me...you would stop if you did."

Brad sandwiches his body against mine and curves it. I feel his tip slip past my crack. "What do you think I'm doing this? "

"Because you hate me."

"You're being selfish again." He gets onto his knees and arches my ass upwards.

"Wait! Don't you want me on top? That's your fantasy, right?"

"I know what you're doing...it's not going to work."

"I want to apologize...I was wrong. Let me show you how sorry I am. Can I ride you?" I imitate my best porn voice and am sure to portray a horny enthusiasm.

Brad flips me around and mounts me atop him. "Do it!"

I dig my knees into the mattress and arch my back. One hand raises Brad's shirt above his head to remove it. My other gropes his dick. "I think I should suck you first...You'll love the washing machine." He doesn't protest. I kiss down to his waist, to his dick.

My eyes dart to my dress pants...to the pepper spray clipped on the side. The pants are on the floor...by the closet. I smooch his tip. Brad swallows hard. I lick the head from end to end. Side to side. Teasing him, getting him to relax. I need him to close his eyes. I need to catch him off guard. I pop his tip in and out of my mouth, tonguing it with all my might.

"Hmmm..." Brad shivers and closes his eyes.

GO!!!

I run from the bed, to the closet. There's a delayed response from Brad. I don't hear him jump from the bed right away. It takes him a few seconds. The bed creaks. I hear him running after me. I bend over. My trembling hands rip the sprayer from the pants loop. I spin around and hold it up.

#Romance
#Love