Home.

It’d only been twenty-four hours and yet everything felt different. My apartment felt like someone else’s, not mine.

Sure, I remembered buying the sofa at a downtown thrift store and lugging it up two flights of stairs with the help of a junkie I’d found to help me in exchange for a few bucks.

And yes, I totally remember picking up my reading chair from the sidewalk when someone had pinned a free sign on it but, it still didn’t feel like mine anymore.

It was kinda like when you move away from home and then returned to your childhood room for a visit and while everything looks the same, it’s somehow not the same.

Maybe it’s because while the room stayed the same, you didn’t.

Had my time with Gage changed me so much? How was it possible?

Miss Switch came trotting over to me, mewling plaintively for food and I scooped her up, grateful for my kitty to grant some semblance of normal in my topsy-turvy life.

After dishing up some food for my prissy kitty, I settled onto the floor beside her to watch her enjoy her feast, while I wondered how I was going to move forward.

Especially when I wasn’t careful, I found myself replaying my short, explosive time with Gage over and over.

Was this how obsessions started? I doubt anyone set out to become obsessed with someone or something. Seemed like a lot of work for very little reward.

So, if I were smart, I’d just wash my hands of the entire experience, chalk it up to a weird sexual adventure, and move on.

I had the freedom to relax, thanks to the healthy number of zeroes in my bank account so I should be spending less time moping and more time planning my next move.

But the weird thing was…as much as I should’ve been delighted by the money…I wasn’t.

I kept hearing Gage’s comment about him having to pay me before I would accept a drink with him.

It was true and I hated that the money had motivated me.

I liked to think I was above such petty bullshit but if I’d learned anything, it was that desperation had a tendency to weaken previously held ideals.

If I’d known that Gage was actually pretty cool to hang out with, I would’ve accepted the offer of a drink the first time he asked.

Maybe that would’ve changed things between us. Maybe he would’ve trusted that I’m not a gold-digger, just looking to get paid.

Even I knew it was an uphill battle to convince someone of something different when you were actually guilty of their first impression.

First impressions were a bitch, yo.

“Well, he shouldn’t have made the offer if he was just going to use it against me later,” I told Miss Switch, sliding my hand down her silky fur, her booty bouncing up in response. I chuckled, adding, “Yeah, that’s what I looked like, too, when Gage did his thing.”

Did it matter that Gage had secrets he didn’t want to share? I supposed not.

I tried to hold onto that truth but another voice was screaming the opposite, it does matter!

Because it mattered to me.

Climbing to my feet, I went in search of my high school yearbook.

I vaguely remembered a Donnelly — we didn’t hang in the same circles but it was a small enough school that the name struck a bell — and I wanted to see if there was any resemblance to the Donnelly I went to school with and Gage.

I know, total long shot, but I had to do something.

I found my yearbook, dusted it off, and flipped through the pages. Ahh, nostalgia. I lost myself for a few minutes in memories, chuckling at some of the ridiculous statements made by kids who hadn’t had a clue what life had in store for them, and finally found the Donnelly kid.

Dustin Donnelly, a freshman when I was a senior, so definitely not in my peer group.

Dark hair, similar to Gage, but really that was a stretch, right?

I chewed my lip, wondering. I flipped to the index where the index of students featured on which pages were listed. Dustin Donnelly was only listed once and that was the class page.

True, he’d been a freshman and the yearbook staff tended to cater to the upper classmen for candids but he wasn’t listed on any sports or clubs sections either.

Maybe he was a loner.

But judging by the bright smile in his picture, I didn’t buy it. Kids with social issues didn’t tend to ham it up for the camera.

And this kid…he was definitely grinning like the Cheshire cat.

Great. I closed the yearbook. Another mystery.

I hesitated before grabbing my phone. Tara might’ve known Dustin Donnelly but the last time we spoke, well, it hadn’t been a Hallmark moment.

My sister and I were polar opposites. She was the brainy one — the one most likely to make decisions based on logic and reason — and definitely not likely to sell her vagina to make rent.

Okay, so…maybe I won’t mention that little fact.

I might have to preface the conversation with an apology.

I might’ve called her a stuck-up twat with an ass so tight she could go into the diamond business if her accountant husband dumped her and she needed cash.

Yeah, not my finest moment.

I shouldn’t have said it. Plain and simple. If it counts for anything, I felt bad and I’d planned to call to apologize but then the whole Landon thing happened and I wasn’t about to admit that I’d been so grievously fucked over by my boyfriend.

Especially when…Tara hadn’t been a fan of Landon and had warned me that he’d seemed shady.

I dropped my head into my hands. How did one become such a colossal fuck-up?

Miss Switch wandered into my bedroom, purring as she flopped beside me as if to say, “Honey, self-loathing is so 2000-and-late. Now pet me.”

I obliged and scratched behind her ears. She showed her appreciation by biting me.

“Even my cat is an asshole,” I muttered, peering at the tiny pricks in my skin. “Should I drop it?” I asked Miss Switch. “Am I being stupid for wanting to figure this damn mystery out? What if I do find answers to my questions and nothing changes? Maybe Gage is just a messed up bag of beans and I’m better off forgetting about him.”

All that could be true.

Wouldn’t change my need to know.

I was my own worst enemy.

Rising, I put my yearbook back into the tiny closet and closed the door. I needed to officially quit at Jimmy’s and collect my last check.

Then, I would try and decide what to do with my life.

But for now…I think I needed to pound the pavement. Grabbing my running shoes, I dressed quickly and went out the door.