Shut the fuck up, my brain yelled at me. I really had a way with words.

She dashed like a bat out of hell, leaving skid marks on the marble. I turned around, raising my palms at Sailor.

“I can explain.”

She said nothing. Just stared at me. Which was worse than being yelled at, somehow.

“We were just watching a movie.”

“Were you using her bra as glasses?” Sailor inquired dispassionately.

“Actually, the bra was a recent development. She wanted to mess around. I wasn’t game.”

“Why? It’s not like it’d have made a difference. Your father probably knows she was in the apartment through CCTV. That’s why you asked me when I was going to be here today, no?”

It seemed the electricity had come back on.

Sailor didn’t wait for an answer. She sauntered briskly to the bathroom. I followed her, feeling pussy-whipped, sans the pussy. The implausible tininess of her person in contrast to the impact she had on my life made me want to tear this place to its bones and watch it collapse, brick by brick.

“Wrong. I didn’t even know her until a couple hours ago. I ordered DoorDash, planning to listen to the material Knox sent me from Syllie, and she was the delivery girl. She said the electricity was down in the entire building. She came up the stairs because the elevators were down. Da doesn’t know.”

“That sounds like a great porn script,” Sailor mumbled, turning on the tap and trying to wash her face. She tried to claw the makeup off with her fingernails. She had no idea how to remove makeup, but pointing that out was going to make her maim me with her bow.

“It does, doesn’t it?” I stroked my jaw, thinking about the positions I’d fuck Sailor if we ever made a porno together. “Point is, nothing happened. I’m allowed to have female friends.”

“She is not your friend.” She air-quoted the last word, irritated with the stubborn makeup. She turned off the faucet, punching the marble counter and wincing.

“Jealously suits you, CT. Irish chicks look great in green.”

“I’m not jealous! I wish I’d stayed out so you could go all the way and screw up your life. You’d deserve it, too.” She was shouting now, throwing her hands in the air. She dashed for the door.

I blocked her way, full-blown laughing now, my arms on either side of the doorframe.

“Is that right? You’d rat me out, CT?”

“In a heartbeat,” she snapped. “Move along now, pretty boy.”

Another jab. Man, she wanted the Vitamin D.

“Bull. Shit,” I whispered, not buying it for a second. Even if I’d fucked Emily, her imaginary twin sister, and every girl in this building, Sailor still wouldn’t snitch on me. She’d be mad, fuming—and would probably transport every piece of garbage in North America into my room. But she wouldn’t ruin my life.

The realization made me feel triumphed.

I knew it because I knew her.

“I want to leave,” Sailor enunciated.

“Not until you admit you’re jealous.” Why the fuck did I even care? Ego? Blood sport?

Both, probably.

She threw her head back, her laugh rusty. “Even though I’m not?”

“Yeah. Pacify my petty ass. Tell me what I want to hear so we can get it over with.”

“No.”

“Coward.”

She raised her palm to slap me, swinging her hand, but I caught her by the wrist, pressing a teasing kiss to her palm, then licking it base to index finger. I covered half her finger with my mouth, licking and sucking it with a smile. Our eyes were glued together, as if in a trance. I could see her heart pounding through her shirt, and I wanted to squeeze it in my fist and tell her she’d already lost that game between us.

I’d had the pleasure of pleasuring many women in my life. But never had I seen a girl react to me the way Sailor Brennan did while her clothes were still on.

When I was done giving her finger a blowjob, I stepped aside.

“Fine. Run. You have three seconds.”

“Before?” she drawled, her hand still in the air. She’d forgotten to lower it to the side of her body. The zing in her eyes told me she wanted another round of mind-chess.

Enter Player 2.

“I hunt you down and fuck you hard. Not deal-related. Call it hare coursing.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s the point, baby. You’re excused. Unless you don’t want to be. In which case, you run, I chase. Get out if you’re not game. Three.”

Her eyes darted from my face to the door. I studied her every move. We both knew this shit between us—the electricity that had nothing to do with what was going on in the building—was here to stay.

“Two. Leave.”

She took four quick steps to the door, during which my soul swiftly left my body, bailing on my ass and running with her. Then Sailor skidded to a stop, not going past the threshold. She raked her fingers through her hair, producing what I guessed was the mating sound of two deranged emus.

“Shit,” she choked, her feet glued to the bathroom tiles. “What am I doing?”

Me, in a second.

“One.”

She fell to her knees, her back to me, her head slacking forward in defeat. It was like watching National Geographic as a kid, when I’d asked Nanny Number Six why the cameramen and film crew didn’t help the innocent, unassuming zebra when the tigress caught it, dangling it by its neck like a heavy piece of jewelry.