“Hello, beautiful,” Dillon said when Emily opened the door to her apartment. He got up from the couch, walked over to her, and pulled her into his arms. “I missed you. What took you so long?”
“We had a late rush,” she replied, trying to successfully pull off the lie burning a hole through her gut. “Did you get the movie?”
“I did. Go get in the shower, and I’ll set us up.” He scratched at his chest and sauntered into the kitchen. “Oh, there’s a surprise in your bedroom.”
Smiling, she cocked her head to the side. “What did you do?”
“Nah, nothing big.” He tossed a bag of popcorn into the microwave. “I was just thinking about you today.”
After dropping her purse onto the table, she made her way down the hall. Upon entering her room, she took in the sight of six-dozen red roses scattered throughout the space. Each dozen was in a beautiful crystal vase. He even scattered some petals across her queen-sized white duvet cover. Although touched by the gesture, her smile was weak. The scent of them pleasantly assaulted her nose while she tried not to fester in her guilt of just finishing her secret “coffee date” with Gavin.
Once showered, she slipped back into the living room and lay down with Dillon on the couch. His body curled possessively around hers as she absently traced circling patterns across his bare chest.
She looked into his eyes. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
“Well, I’m glad you like them.” He kissed the top of her dampened hair. “Like I said, I thought of you all day.”
“You’re too sweet.” She nuzzled her nose against his neck. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I got a call back from one of the schools I submitted my resume to.”
“Did you? That’s awesome, babe. Where is it?”
“It’s in Brooklyn.” She thought for a second. “Bush something. I have to look at what I wrote down. I have an interview on Monday.”
“Bushwick?
“Yes, that’s the name.” She smiled, reaching for a piece of popcorn on the end table.
“Em, you can’t take a job out there. It’s not safe.”
“Dillon, I’ll be fine.”
“No, Emily, I’m telling you—you’re not taking the job out there. Send some more resumes out and wait for something else,” he replied with finality in his voice.
“Are you being for real?”
“Babe, I’m just looking out for you. It’s not a good neighborhood,” he answered, pressing his mouth against her forehead. “You’ll wait for something else. Besides, we’ve already been over this—if you need money, I’ll give it to you.”
“It’s not that, Dillon. I’ve waited long enough, and I want something lined up for this coming school year.”
Before he could say anything further, the door swung open. Olivia walked in with her purse swinging cheerfully from her arm. She rolled her eyes in Dillon’s direction while making a gagging sound from her throat.
“Ollie, tell my girlfriend how bad Bushwick is.”
Emily waited for Olivia’s response, but it never came. She effectively ignored Dillon’s request, kicked off her shoes, and took a seat on one of the plush recliners.
“Hey, friend,” Olivia said to Emily, a beaming smile working over her lips. “How was your day?”
“Uh, my day was good,” Emily replied, unable to keep the slight laughter out of her voice. “But can you answer Dillon’s question? I’m interested in hearing about this bad-ass neighborhood.”
Still not answering, Olivia looked away as she studied the chipped pink polish on her nails.
“Liv, can you answer his question?” Emily asked with her brows now furrowed.
Olivia’s brown eyes narrowed like a snake on Dillon. “Sorry, Em, I don’t talk to assholes who jockey off their sperm, sowing their wild oats to any slut who’ll give them a blowjob behind my friend’s back,” she hissed, the words rolling off her tongue like a melted piece of ice.
Emily nearly choked, swallowing down a piece of popcorn. She felt Dillon’s body go rigid against hers right before he rose from the couch.
He shot Olivia a searing look, but his voice remained eerily calm. “Fuck off, you stupid dyke.”
Olivia plastered a smile over her gritted teeth. “Oh, that was seriously original,” she replied, her voice undaunted by his insult as she clapped her hands slowly.
“Oh my God, Dillon, how could you say that?” Emily looked to him in shock.
“Fuck her.” He casually walked across the room to the kitchen and reached into the refrigerator.
“No, honestly, fuck you, Dickhead!” Olivia spewed.
“Holy shit, would you two just stop?!”
“I’ll stop when you see the fake overcoat of charm he wears in front of you, Emily! He’s fucking around behind your back, and you’re oblivious to it!” Olivia stood up and wagged her finger in Dillon’s direction. “But, for now, he’s in my fucking house, so he can take it or get the fuck out!”
Dillon plucked his shirt from the couch, tossed it over his head, and dug his keys from his pocket.
“Dillon, wait!” Emily let out, crossing the room to go after him.
“Fuck that stupid bitch! I’ll call you later!”
He threw the door open and slammed it closed with a thundering force.