Roofers.

7. Status.

Ronan POV.

Jenna Richards had been buzzing me for the last four hours and one would think after not having your calls answered after four hours that you'd come to the conclusion that either one, the other person wasn't there or, two, in her case, the other person didn't want to talk things out. 

After she'd called again... and again. She left a voice mail and caught the hint. I wasn't in the mood to talk; I was too busy staring at the ceiling in the dark like the quiet kid with no hobbies, conjuring an ill thought out plan on how I'd get Scarlett Holloway's attention. Thinking about how much of an idiot I was for walking away. Which may have been pretty ass-holic, considering the fact that here I was, thinking about a girl I'd met two day's ago instead of my actual girlfriend. It was all a matter of perspective, really. 

Jenna was a good girl, she was funny, charming; she had a nice family, nice friends, she was popular, athletic – extremely gorgeous, might I add. She was a tall girl, blonde hair, slender frame, pale skin, full lips, tight ass, perky tits and despite the common cliche she had no obvious plastic surgery, her makeup wasn't overdone, her hair was not filled with extensions and she dressed well, not slutty. Not that, that mean anything

She'd been my girl since freshman year, and together we'd risen to the ranks of the ultimate power couple with a knack for taking breaks. We were that couple, the on-again, off-again loud make-up sex sort of couple. The kind everyone thought would last forever, not because we were compatible but because we looked good together.

In truth, she was merely my cover girl. The girl I used to cover up the fact that I, like her, was a submissive. Which was shallow of me, yes, but in my defence the people of this city had a nasty habit of asking too many questions.  And being in my position meant I'd always have a shit ton more than anyone. It was easier to simply narrow it down, avoid any slip ups and risking self-exposure. Sometimes you had to do shitty things to make it through a shitty life.

I'd surmised that she was calling me to apologise about the stunt she pulled at the game, but I wasn't in the mood.

"Daddy, I'm sorry, okay? How many times do I gotta tell you? I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry I forgot about my rules. I just, I just wanted to have fun like everybody else our age- "

I hated when she called me that. I knew I let her do it, but every time I heard it, I felt the contents of my stomach lurch into my mouth like a miniature freight train of last night's meal. It was one of the many, many things I'd never quite get used to about "being" a dominant.

She'd asked me to space her in front of friends, which was generally common for some, but I opted against it. As a submissive, trying to space another submissive was a lot to deal with. Doing it in front of people just added stress to that.  Jenna didn't understand that. Because she didn't know that I was a submissive. In fact, no one knew, except my dad, and Micah, and now so did Scarlet Holloway.

Scarlett Holloway.

Her name was about as beautiful as she was. My mind bounced from place to place like a tiny rubber ball. There it was, thinking about how she'd told me to stay from her. Then there it was, imagining the chaffed feeling of a collar around my neck. Then there it was, remembering that reverse couples never lasted, and that she was probably most definitely right in her judgement. Still, that didn't stop the crude thoughts from inhabiting my brain. And it certainly didn't stop me from typing some promiscuous titles into my incognito tab, only reverse porn is disgustingly limited and let's just say, I was never fond of whips.

All of this fed a growing hope that perhaps, if fate had a place for a foolhardy, attention loving teenage boy, then things would work themselves out.