Devil's Due [h.s.]

Chapter 37

Chapter 37

I was convinced I'd lost my mind.

The drive back from the studio last night had me sure of it. With Harry following closely behind in his car, something he'd taken it upon himself to do considering I'd chased away the men in the SUVs, it was the only thing that I'd thought about. I hadn't even turned on my music. Simply sat in silence, trying not to look in the rear-view mirror, wondering what could have possibly possessed me to be so insane that I'd quite literally had sex with him where I worked.

I'd never done that. Hadn't even fathomed doing that with anything else. Yet something about this man drove me positively up the wall, if only because I found myself acting so out of character whenever I was around him.

Surprisingly, he had no snide remarks or shitty comments to make once we'd arrived at my apartment. He hadn't even made one when I'd emerged from the bathroom after he'd cleaned up the studio, only softly mumbled something about how he should be allowed to smoke a cigarette in here as reparation for wrecking his shirt.

The last thing he'd said before pulling out of my apartment parking lot was that he'd be back to pick me up tomorrow so that we could drive to the gym together. I'd nodded, said something stupid about how he better be on the top of his game, and then realized only after he'd left that I hadn't even tried to object to taking the same car.

I was losing my mind.

I was sure of it.

Until the next morning, that is, when I woke up to realize that I wasn't insane at all. That the reason why I seemed to be so hung up on him lately was justified, thanks to my current fluctuation in hormones. Miss Aunt Flo had come to visit.

My birth control, thank god, kept me from getting my period regularly. I usually got it every couple of months and it only lasted a few days but that didn't mean the cramps or bloating went away. I'd woken up this morning feeling like I'd been hit by a train, not wanting to go to work, not wanting to go to Devil's Due and train with Harry tonight but refused to give him something else to antagonize me for.

"That's all it is," I attempted to reason with Meatloaf, who was watching me while I got ready. "My period. My brain isn't thinking right."

The little cat splayed on her side on the counter just blinked at me. She didn't care. She liked Harry, the traitor. She'd meowed and meowed and meowed that whole afternoon after he'd left on Saturday and seemed to nuzzle even closer to me whenever I came home smelling like him.

God. If only she knew why I smelled like him. She'd never forgive me.

It'd been an effort yet again to hide my hickeys this morning before work and I was grateful that it'd been a bit slow and that none of my friends had decided to drop by. Except even the heavy coats of concealer did nothing to hide the flush that crept onto my cheeks when I had to make eye contact, conversation, and force a smile with each of the ladies from my class who came in to pick up their painting of Harry. All while acting like he didn't fuck the life out of me on top of the very desk we were speaking to each other across from.

The silence was deafening when I managed to yank myself back into the present moment, refusing to dwell on the events of the night before. There was no reason to. Clearing my throat, I turned away from the mirror and stepped out of the bathroom, flicking the light off behind me.

Meatloaf jumped off the counter, letting out an annoyed mewl at having been left behind before she was circling moments later at my feet. I could tell that she knew I was getting ready to leave again, despite the fact that I'd only gotten home from work less than a half-hour ago.