Chapter 106 Houses and tights
I thought Simon would be mad at me, that he will end our friendship. Instead, he immediately gets up and pulls me into his arms, his hug warm and sure.
"I love you." He murmurs in my hair, and a sob break free in my chest. "And it's not your fault. None of this was your fault."
I cry for him and for me. We were raped, but going to the police and getting justice might not be in the cards for us. For him maybe, because he was at the hospital. He has proof, but I got engaged and it was published for the world to see. I'm having sex with my fiance, it's my word against his, and there's no proof for me but a video where it looks like I want it.
I clutch Simon tighter, realising again that he's so much more than a colleague. Maybe I've been so tainted with my experience with friends in high school, that I'm refusing to open up to anyone.
We laugh through our tears about our days we were training in the academy, and what our futures might look like now that Gregory has left the company.
Simon hasn't been dancing, just like me. That is a disgrace to the world with the talent he possesses.
"How about a sleepover?" I suggest when we're saying goodbye. "At my parents' place, we can watch movies and eat food we're not supposed to."
"Girl, that sounds like my kind of therapy."
"Would you like to come to my family's Sunday lunch with me?" I hook my arm through his. "It's usually very rowdy, the whole family is there and they might ask you too many questions. It's also way longer than most lunches, if you're up to it."
He gulps, looking at me with a sheen in his eyes. "You're inviting me over with your family?"
"Yeah." I shrug. "You can sleep over at my house tomorrow night then. Monday we can decide what the fuck we're doing with the rest of our lives."
"You've never invited me over before." He says softly. "It's a big deal."
I smile sadly. "Let's just say I didn't have the best experience with friends in the past, that's why. Are you in? I can send T.J. to come fetch you around eleven?"
"I'm in."
I wave goodbye to him before getting into T.J.'s car, feeling so much lighter than what I did before.
My parents, aunt and uncle are having drinks over at our house, still discussing the morning when they supposedly discovered a naked Miguel. They look tipsy, so I ignore them, heading straight for my bedroom.
My bedroom still smells like him, making me smile as I get undressed and slide into my bed.
I don't want the bedding changed, not before the smell of amber and musk disappeared.
I check my messages, smiling when I see there are a few from him.
It's all pictures. The first one is of his dinner of steak and vegetables on a cardboard box with the caption: I probably need to hire a decorater or something, right?
Wait, did he get a place?
It's not even something I thought about. He moved back, of course he needs a place. I thought maybe he'd stay in a hotel for a while or something.
The second picture is still daylight in a cute, neat backyard, with a white swing wide enough for two hanging from a sturdy tree, captioned: Can't wait to sit with you here.
This is not just some bachelor's apartment. This is New York city, the places where there are even an option for you to have a backyard probably costs millions.
The third and last picture is lo and behold, a picture of him wearing male ballet tights in black, and it genuinely lets my mouth drop open in surprise. He said he would wear a pair for me, and he did, the outline of his cock deliciously evident through the black fabric.
He captioned that one: Waiting for those dancing lessons.
This man.
How on earth is he even related to Ben? He looks so hard, and dangerous, but in reality he's kind and thoughtful, and so fucking sweet.
The difference has to be Valentina's influence.
I wonder if his mother is doing okay by herself, or if Lucille is visiting often. Most probably, and I do feel a little jealous but I can't, because at least Valentina would have someone to keep her company.
I text him back immediately : I can't believe you bought those tights.
It's like he's been waiting for me to respond all night, because the three dots appear to show me he's typing.
Miguel: You could've warned me they're so expensive.
Me: Ballet is an expensive art. Did you rent a house?
Miguel: I bought one.
That makes me pause. He bought a house in the city. Does that mean he thinks he will live here permanently? Real estate in the city with a backyard costs a pretty penny.
Miguel: I would love to give you a tour soon.
I think of my guard dog T.J., and how he probably wouldn't take me to Miguel's house with all of my parents' warnings.
Me: Maybe.
Miguel: I will kill Ben, then there would be no more maybes.
He talks so casually about killing his brother, as if it would be so easy.
I feel a little guilty about that, and maybe a little relieved.
Because if someone doesn't kill Ben, I might end up doing it myself.