Dayton battled with the clasp and zipper of his slacks, pinching a bit of skin in his haste and muttering a curse at the sharp pain. The front door sealed as he collapsed against it; he slipped a hand under the band of his boxers no sooner than it clicked shut. The coolness of his fingers curled around his heated sex made for a pleasurable contrast.
A faint hint of Kenna’s perfume played off of his coat. Those hardly detectable notes of sweetness gave him a livelier rush than the purest methamphetamine.
He had never felt more alive, more present.
Closing his eyes, he released a ragged breath, lifting his chin to expose his neck. His back remained flush with the door, stance unfaltering. Lightheadedness overtook him and his wrist ached from its forceful mechanics.
His full lips parted, permitting a tortured moan to escape as his climax neared. The image of Kenna spinning to face him in front of Wagner Theatre looped and swelled in his mind, as if it were refracting off a piece of broken glass. Dayton focused on the memory of her lush mouth, wondering how that sticky gloss might taste, how it might stain his skin if he were to claim those divine lips.
His orgasm raged through him, paralyzing every nerve ending in his quaking body, the hot fluid dampening his underwear and seeping onto his dress pants.
Steadying himself, Dayton opened his eyes.
Catching his breath proved more strenuous than usual and concern rose within him as it took a concerted effort to regain a healthy rhythm.
A tightness resonated in his chest, one that was all at once familiar and frightening.
Heartbeat thrashing in her ears, Kenna checked the lock on the apartment door three times before bolting through the hall. She tripped over her guitar case in the pitch black bedroom, mumbling a grunt of annoyance when she shoved herself off the carpet. A yank of her lamp’s cord flooded brightness into the space.
She grabbed her laptop and sank to the floor at the foot of the unmade bed. Fingers fidgeting on the keyboard, she typed the password incorrectly—twice. As the homepage of Facebook loaded, Kenna pulled up a separate window which contained bits from her internet sleuthing and zeroed in on a single line of text in the sparse document: Charlee Pender.
Did her madness have any merit?
Waiting around for the answer was no longer an option. Dr. Merino’s sudden appearance after Liam had gone felt like a personal threat. A threat she refused to ignore.
Kenna typed the name into the site’s search box. Three results. She clicked through the first two profiles, weeding out the impostors. Faintness threatened to claim her when she stumbled across the correct page.
This woman lived in Missouri, but the ‘Ponderosa University Class of 2016’ in her bio section did not go overlooked. She wastheCharlee Pender.
The cursor hovered over the ‘add friend’ button momentarily before she had the nerve to go through with it. Her stomach churned like a cement mixer, willing her to succumb to a permanent state of anxiety.
She caught her breath. There was no turning back.
Charlee,
We don’t know each other, but I'm reaching out with the hope that you’ll shed some light on something I’m going through.
What can you tell me about Dr. Merino?
No relief came from pressing ‘send.’Kenna was stuck with Dr. Merino the rest of the semester, regardless of what Charlee had to say about him.
But she’d already opened this can of worms. It was no use coaxing them back in their vessel.
Thursday afternoon, Dayton perched in the windowsill of his office. The fumes from his blunt danced through the cracked window and dissolved into February’s fog. On occasion, students pointed or shot him dirty looks, but he never paid them any mind. It’s not like he owed them an explanation; they weren’t his employer.
He drew in a deep drag, resulting in a fit of coughing that stung his chest, followed by a fragmented exhalation.
“Fuck,” he mumbled.
Phoning his cardiologist wasn’t on the day’s to-do list. The idea nauseated him.
A quick consultation of his wristwatch revealed that Kenna’s arrival was still an agonizing nine minutes away. He brought the blunt to his lips once again, inhaling with less vigor. Dayton’s hand braced his forehead then migrated into his thicket of charcoal hair. When he looked up, his green-eyed seductress stood shell-shocked near the entryway.
Kenna’s appearance was God’s way of insisting, ‘Don’t say I never gave you anything.’
Dayton carried on smoking, ever nonchalant.
“You’re early.”