Illicit ✔

twenty-eight

♫ You are insane, my desire
A violent daydream, love, love
You are crazy, a perfect liar
Said you'd save me, love, love ♪
(30 Seconds to Mars ft. Halsey—Love Is Madness)

Coralie woke the next day groggy and nauseous as if she'd had fifteen shots of Fireball, coupled with several glasses of cheap Cabernet.

Flurries of disturbing dreams lingered in her mind—visions of Michael on her laptop screen, touching himself at her behest, his features blurring until they morphed into Ryan's. Then images of herself sipping from a fluorescent cocktail at an upper-scale rooftop bar, spinning around to witness Ryan walking up to her. But when he spun her back to the bar, she faced the bartender, who was none other than Michael.

"Fuck," she said, ripping her phone from the charger as she got up. "Why must my mind be so messed up?"

A half-dressed Delilah scurried past her, a toothbrush dangling from her mouth. "Oh crap, did I wake you?"

Yawning, Coralie shook her head. "My stupid overactive imagination woke me." She glanced at her phone, noticing no new Facebook messages, no YouTube notifications, no missed calls. "I hate it."

Delilah muttered something from the bathroom, then waltzed over to repeat it without toothpaste on her tongue.

"Ryan? Or Michael?"

Wishing the horrible dreams out of her system, Coralie squeezed out of the room and beamed at the freshly made coffee scent that breezed into her nostrils.

"Both. And it didn't help that I had a session with Michael yesterday, before work."

"You need to see Ryan," said Delilah, zipping up the side of her charcoal-colored skirt. The fabric glided up her waist and hugged her to perfection as she tucked in her creamy, low-cut blouse. "Get that well-needed closure so you can erase him from your mind."

Coralie scoffed, nearly spilling creamer onto the counter as she poured it into her oversized mug. "How would having drinks with him do that, though? Seeing him is what put me in this messy situation. If I hadn't bumped into him, I wouldn't be picturing him stroking himself while watching me, instead of Michael—"

"—Ew." Delilah snickered as she batted her heavily coated eyelashes. "But like I said yesterday, it was fate that you'd find each other. I think it means something... like you have unfinished business and need to resolve it. He needs to apologize, make it clear he does care for you, but he has a wife and children and has obligations towards them, no matter what. Come on, Cora." She plastered a quick, lipstick kiss on Coralie's cheek as she grabbed her purse from the hook near the fridge. "Do it. Speak to him, hell, yell at him, get it all out. I promise you'll feel better, and you'll realize it's Michael you want to open your heart to. Not Ryan. Call him."

She didn't give Coralie a chance to answer as she slid into her heels, threw on a jacket, and skidded out of the apartment.

Settled on the couch, sipping on coffee and browsing her Netflix for a new show to watch, Coralie jumped when her phone started ringing. On instinct, she cringed, worried it would be Ryan—but to her delight, it was someone she always enjoyed chatting with.