Her head throws back with her laugh. “Ky Ky Ky,” she says, turning to me.

“Holy shit,” I say quietly, but going by the smirk on her face, I wasn't quiet enough.

She has curves upon curves.

Endless legs.

Phenomenal tits.

I wonder what they'd feel like in my hands. On my face. In my mouth. “Ky!” Jacks yells.

I hold the phone to my ear, my eyes never leaving her ridiculous body. “I'll call you back.” I hang up and return Madison's smirk. “How 'bout that walk now?”

She purses her lips and eyes the ceiling. “Well, Ky, there's absolutely nothing more in this entire world I'd love to do then go for a walk with you…” Her eyes shift back to me before shrugging. She fakes a grimace and inhales loudly. “But unfortunately I have somewhere to be and I can't get out of it.”

“Liar.”

She shrugs again. “It's true.” She steps around me and heads for the door. “But it's always a pleasure running into you. We should do it more often. Maybe next time I'll supply the pizza.”

MADISON

I lied. I had nowhere to go. But the way his eyes widened when he saw me, and the way he was looking at me…I couldn't be around him a second longer. My heart was pounding way too hard, way too fast. I was told to flirt with him, to dress in a way that would get his attention and make him want to spend time with me. It had worked. Now if only I could work around him, everything would be fine.

The moment I'm out the doors a panic sets in. I don't know where to go. I go left and hope that the decision is fast enough that he doesn't find it suspicious.

I walk half a block until I see a tiny little café. There's no one sitting on the tables outside and I pray that it's the same inside. It's not that I don't like people. It's just that I'm not used to them.

Luckily, there's only one person in there and he's too preoccupied on his computer to notice my existence.

“Hi. I'll have a coffee,” I tell the bored looking guy behind the counter.

He rolls his eyes and sighs heavily, inspecting his nails. “Americano, Latte, Misto, Mocha, Cappuccino, Macchiato or Espresso?”

I gulp nervously and take a step back. I have no idea what he just said. “Just coffee that tastes like coffee,” I squeak.

Dean, I've worked out from his name badge, quirks an eyebrow and slowly points to the corner of the store where a table’s set up with what I assume is a thermal coffee dispenser.

I try to smile at him. “Thanks,” I say, reaching into my pocket. “What do I owe you?”

He leans on his elbows and eyes me curiously. And then he scoffs. Right in my damn face. “That coffee tastes like burnt asshole. I'd pay you to drink it.”

“Nice. I'll think of that when I'm sipping on it.”

I sit on the opposite end of the room from computer guy and drink my burnt-asshole flavored coffee, which doesn't actually taste like burnt-asshole. It tastes like every other coffee I remember having.

Four cups later and I can no longer ignore my need to pee. I look around but there doesn't seem to be a bathroom here so I leave quietly and make my way back to the apartment—My apartment. I wait impatiently for the elevator and practically jump in when the doors open. I squeeze my legs together and do everything possible to avoid having to cup my privates. When the elevator doors open on my floor, I run to my apartment, rifling through the contents of my bag for my keys. “Fuck!”

A door opens.

“Madison?” Ky's standing in his doorway; arms at his side. “I was thinking-”

“Pee!”

“What?”

I push past him and run into his apartment. “I need to pee!”

6

KY

MADISON DROPS HER purse on the couch as soon as she enters my apartment and runs to the bathroom.

She's laughing.

She's on the toilet laughing.

And peeing.

I don't even know how I'm supposed to feel right now. “Madison?”

“Don't talk to me while I'm peeing!”

“O… Kay…” I chuckle, looking down at the contents of her purse, now spilled out onto the cushion. Quickly, I scan her stuff: Mace, a pocketknife, a kubaton, and a rape whistle.

Girl was prepared.

She starts laughing harder.

“Are you good?” I shout.

“I had to go so bad!” She opens the door and says, “Why is it that your bladder always seems to try to tip you over the edge just as you’re at your door. It's strange, right?”

“I think maybe you're strange, Madison,” I joke.

She freezes in her spot when she sees me standing over her stuff. Clearing her throat, she walks over to me and starts replacing the items in her bag.

“That’s a lot of protection you’re carrying.”

She ignores my remark and sits down on the couch, placing her bag on her lap. “For someone that doesn’t work, you’re not home often.”

I sit next to her. “You noticed?”

“What do you do?” she asks, ignoring me again.

I sigh, now realizing what it must be like for good old Cinnamon Aroma to have to deal with my evasiveness. “Not much. Gym and errands.” I grab the remote and turn the TV on, hoping to put an end to her questioning.

“What kind of errands?”

What am I supposed to say? Court ordered therapy? Undercover drug bust? I change the subject. “Where did you go anyway?”