Aftertaste, noun
Af·ter·taste
: persistence of a sensation (as of flavor or an emotion) after the stimulating agent or experience has gone
There was once a time she was running away from her life, from people, from everything and everyone; running a...
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I burst into the bathroom while Alexander is still showering. He hears me and he swiftly turns his head. I see a devious smile spread on his face through the fogged glass. "Do you want to join me?" he asks me seductively.
"I need to talk to you," I say brusquely, almost snapping at him. Even I can feel the urgency in my thone.
His smile immediately disappears. "I'm showering," he says slowly.
"I don't care what you're doing! I want to talk." I go sit on the closed toilet seat, tapping my foot on the floor.
He turns the water off and steps out, taking a towel and wrapping it around his lower body, not even bothering with drying himself. His body is glistening deliciously, all wet, making his tattoos and muscles stand out even further. I get even angrier.
"What is it?" he asks carefully, keeping his distance.
"Explain," I say, showing him the picture on my phone. He narrows his eyes, stepping further.
"What?" he asks. I swipe and show him the video next. His jaw clenches. "Where did you get that?"
"From Sam," I say impatiently.
"What's there to explain? Nothing happened," he says slowly.
I grip the phone even tighter in my hands. "Why didn't you tell me Lena was there last night? Who took her?"
He gets a guilty expression on his face and I want to throw up. I know his answer before he opens his mouth. "I did."
My mouth falls open and I let out a shaky breath, feeling at loss with words. We talked about this just days before. "Was it a punishment? Because I didn't go?" I ask him quietly.
"No," he says, stepping closer, but I stop him with my hand. "Gabrielle, nothing happened."
"Yeah, just that you two seem rather close," I say dryly. "So every time I won't be able to go to your race, you'll take someone else. That's good to know." I can't hide the hurt in my voice. We talked about it and he said he wouldn't drive her on his motorcycle. I thought that spot was reserved for me.
"That's not how it is at all."
"Then how the hell is it?!" I snap, feeling the stupid tears prickling my eyes. "You could've at least told me. I tell you every single thing, no matter how unimportant. And this ..." I shake my head. "She wants you and she'll do everything to get you. And you're just ... encouraging her."
He gives me a disgusted look. "Seriously? Encouraging her?"
"You have your arm wrapped around her shoulders while she's whispering something in your ear. You drove her with your motorcycle. What do you think she'll think of this? I thought you didn't like her." I'm starting to sound defensive, just trying to understand the situation. Alexander, however, doesn't take it lightly.
