"Come here, you ungrateful fucking rat!"

I groan in helplessness, forgetting momentarily that I'm on the phone as Nik darts from my hands and into my kitchen cabinet, sending a stack of pans clattering noisily to the floor. He resumes his hunching and gagging regimen, and I wrinkle my nose in disgust.

I think I'm going to need to take him to the vet. He's still all messed up from that hair tie he ate.

"Isn't it weird that he keeps eating things he shouldn't? I don't think cats are supposed to do that, right?"

As if hearing my concern and interpreting it as criticism, Nik turns to glare at me. Daring me to try and grab him again. I glare right back, refusing to back down in the face of the devil. I will not admit defeat.

"Uh," the smooth voice crackles through my phone, wedged between my shoulder and ear. "I'm not sure. But Viv—"

"Hold on," I grunt, getting a sudden idea. I crouch so the upper half of my body is inside the cabinet, grabbing a particularly large pot and its lid. In a sudden swoop, I've captured my cat. "Ha! Gotcha," I gloat. I'll deposit him safely by his litter box, where he can vomit to his heart's content.

"Viv," David's stern voice prickles my neck in annoyance, and I'm reminded of the dragging conversation we've been having for the last thirty minutes. "I'd really like for you to focus here. You're so all over the place sometimes."

"David, I've told you so many times that I can't find your grandmother's ring anywhere. You must've left it somewhere else. You know if it was here, I'd tell you."

David likes to occasionally call me about miscellaneous things that he deems of the utmost importance. Today, it was about a ring he misplaced and thought he might've left here. To his credit, it is a priceless family heirloom. But the conversation is quickly devolving into something a little too... emotionally involved for my tastes.

"I know you say you looked," David says tactfully, and Nik gives an offended hiss from inside the pot, "but I need you to really take this seriously, Viv. Can you do that please? My mother is going to be devastated—"

"I am taking this seriously," I snap. "I've been looking for thirty minutes. I've cleaned my place a dozen times since you were last over and never saw it. I sincerely hope you find it, but it is not my problem anymore. I'm going to hang up now."

"This is how you always were," he sighs morosely, "you never cared about the things I cared about. It's a constant battle to get you to take things seriously. It's why I had to end it."

"We weren't even together," I strangle out, not wanting to be an asshole but feeling like I have no choice. "I made that abundantly clear to you, didn't I?" He tries to interrupt, but I don't let him. "No, David. You did end things. You're right. You chose to do that, so be a big boy and stick to your decision. I'm sorry I couldn't return your feelings, but you're not a fucking martyr, okay?"

I can feel him making me unreasonably upset, and that in turn makes me more upset. This is why I don't do relationships. Even no-strings-attached, casual sex has its complications. There are always strings.

"Vi—"

I hang up with a huff right as my doorbell rings. Keeping a firm hold on the pot containing my feline, who has now accepted his fate and is settled quietly inside the kitchen appliance, I stomp towards my front door.

My girl friends are coming over to get ready before we go out tonight, and we'll meet the guys at the bar. It's rare we feel the desire to go out seeing as we spend so much of our time at Pulse, so when the mood hits, we take full advantage of it. After that phone call, and with everything that's been going on with my neighbor, I can't think of anything more appealing than a handful of drinks, a sweaty dance floor with a willing partner, and pulsing, bass-heavy music that vibrates in my bones.

But it's not my friends standing at my door.

It's Massimo.

And he's holding... oh, my.

He's holding what appears to be a dildo shaped like an octopus tentacle.

"Fuck me," I cry out in disbelief, my already frazzled composure not doing me any favors in processing and addressing this new development.

Massimo clears his throat primly, looking vaguely offended. "I believe this is yours."

"That—that is not mine!" I peer closer at it, grumbling when my hair gets in my face. After my struggle with the demon cat, it started falling out of its haphazard bun. I no doubt look like I've been dragged through hell, still clutching this damn kitchen pot too.

As if on cue, Nik lets out a plaintive meow. Ah, right. I lift the lid a little so he doesn't suffocate. Massimo stares down at the pot.

"I'm just going to... put this away," I say, right as Nik stuffs his little nose through the hole I've allowed for air. He manages to maneuver his face so he has one imploring, golden eye blinking up at Massimo, as if he's been innocent this whole time. It's practically a cry for help. The dramatic, two-faced liar.

I slam the door in my neighbor's face without another word, locking it just to be safe, and lower the pot to the floor. Nik leaps out, hisses at me for good measure, and darts under my living room couch.

When I open my door again, Massimo stands in the exact same position I left him in.

"Now, what were you saying? Did you... want me to show you how to use that?" Sudden laughter bubbles from my chest. There's something so obscurely funny about him just standing there holding that thing. It's neon green, obscenely girthy, and it has to be almost a foot long.

Massimo's already icy look cools even further, but he's still just... holding it. With his formal attire and that stiff, glacial air about him, it's quite a sight. And I can't seem to ignore the humor of this situation. My emotional processing capabilities are all being used up by other issues, and I find I simply can't focus on another problem right now. Therefore, this is funny.

"This arrived at my front door. I didn't order it." Massimo peers down at the dildo with a slight frown.

"You don't have to justify yourself to me," I choke out, sounding like I'm being actively suffocated with the effort it takes not to laugh in his face. "Everyone has different interests. I don't judge."

"No, I—" he stops himself, perhaps seeing how ridiculous this all is. His jaw does that thing where it clenches so hard that a muscle flutters in his cheek, and I begin to sober, unfortunately recalling that this is a man who has explicitly threatened my life. "I thought it was something I ordered. Didn't see your name on the package."

"Is whatever you ordered shaped like a monster dildo?"

His hands clench, tightening around the toy. And I know that if I don't stop pushing, I'll have approximately fifteen seconds left to live. "It came in an inconspicuously shaped package, Vivienne."

"Hm." Did I order that? Never mind that, what am I supposed to do with it? "Do you think it vibrates?"

Massimo clears his throat again, and I look up to find him giving me a very... judgmental look.

"Oh, relax," I brush off. Now that I think about it, this must be something Shiv ordered the other night. Clearly the wine inhibited her good judgment. "So judgy. I think my friend ordered it, actually. Give me that," I snatch it from him, ignoring how warm his hands are. He jerks back from me like I've burned him, and I give him a weird look.

After the passing of the tentacled dildo, we both just stand there. I can't say I was expecting anything about this interaction.

Now what?

I want to throttle him. I want to make him pack his shit and take whatever bullshit he brought with him out of this city. And at the same time, I want to sit him down and ask him a hundred questions about who he is and how he knows my father.

But as usual, I'll have to find my own damn answers. And it'll be a problem for another day.

I glower and close the door in his face.

Hours later, I find myself stuffed in between sweaty bodies, my tight dress riding up my thighs as I dance with someone, the bright lights of the club blurring around me to the tune of the liquor coursing through my veins.

The DJ switches to a shitty remix of some overplayed pop song, and I stop, my interest deflating as suddenly as a balloon popped with a needle. It doesn't help that I can feel my dance partner's dick on my back. He seemed nice enough to dance with, but feeling how easily he got turned on immediately killed my vibe.

I slip between sticky, drunk bodies, finding the guys at the bar.

"Where are the other girls?" Nate asks, and I squint back at the grinding mass on the dance floor, suddenly grateful that I'm over here where it's considerably less suffocating.

"Still in there somewhere. I lost track of them during 'Pepas,'" I shrug, looking at Seth. "Can I hit that?"

Seth hands me a perfectly rolled joint that he previously held between his lips. He and Nate are both stationed at the bar like obedient guard dogs while we dance.

The two of them, along with Tori and Shiv, make up my ragtag group of friends. Despite the fact that Seth and Nate are essentially a couple of ex-frat boys—and look like it too, with dirty blond hair, bulky muscles, and that 'bro' way about them—they're good people. We met in college and once it became clear I wouldn't be sleeping with either of them, we actually became close friends.

They're constantly sharing stories from college, harmlessly flirting with me, Shiv, and Tori, and drinking excessively. But when we all go out, they're our watchmen—guarding our drinks while we dance and making sure nothing bad happens.

I take a hit, feeling the smoke travel smoothly down my throat.

"I'm surprised you haven't been kicked out for this." Handing it back to Seth, I raise my brow at the 'No Smoking' sign right next to us, and he smirks cockily around the joint.

"I know the bouncer." He exhales smoke in my face, and I roll my eyes. Seth is oddly charismatic and persuasive. I swear, we could go to a random town and somehow, at one of the bars, he'd know the fucking bouncer.

I slump onto one of the stools, leaning back against the bar and tilting my head back to get my hair off my sweaty neck. The hit—along with the half joint I smoked on the way here—forces a blanket of calm over me. The only way to describe the feeling is that my brain is being coated in a layer of soft velvet. Colors and images around me blur, not in a way that I become unaware of my surroundings, but in a way that everything is just deliciously more. A surreal symphony of stimulation that touches delectably on every one of my senses.

"What the hell is that?"

Seth laughs at the blissed out look on my face. "Sativa. Kind of stimulates your mind a little instead of just putting you to sleep. More?"

Well, something is for sure being stimulated.

I shake my head. "I'm right where I want to be. Thanks."

Unwittingly, thoughts of my mother are pushing through the cerebral haze in my head. She always disliked the fact that I occasionally smoke. When I was younger, she saw it as me embarking down a path that would surely lead to addiction and ruin. There was even a period of time where she'd check my arms for track marks whenever she saw me.

Dramatic is perhaps the first word I'd use to describe my mother.

I know there's nothing wrong with my decisions, but her criticisms still cross my mind at times. For some reason, her inability to at least understand my point of view grates on my nerves at the most inopportune moments. Perhaps that's why I've always been the most at odds with her out of my siblings. They can take her disapproval, let it roll right off their backs.

Although she never seems to find as much fault with them.

Quickly feeling myself going down a bit of a dark hole, I shake myself out of it. Nate and Seth are engaged in a conversation about something I don't care to listen to, and I find my mind wandering, floating and bouncing around until it latches onto...

Ah, fuck.

Him.

That beautifully cruel visage lurking dangerously just out of reach, always too close for comfort. He really does look like royalty with his perfect hair, clean-shaven face, and distinguished clothing.

If that royalty was an emotionless monster.

Broad shoulders that stretch out his impeccably ironed suit. Creases sharp enough to cut diamonds. A strong jaw that bears an almost inhumanly flawless smoothness to it. Dark brows that curve at me in a bored, uninterested way—as if he's already catalogued everything he needs to know about me and decided he's not impressed.

And those eyes. Cold-blooded. Glassy with an almost transparent quality—like if I were to get close enough, I could peer into his soul and see the perfectly oiled machine that controls his composure.

They hold something dark contained in their depths, folded and tucked away so neatly that it only hints at the fucking abyss.

But I see it.

I never could've expected my mysterious neighbor to look like that. I haven't let myself address the appeal I see in him but now I helplessly remember the dark, violent shadow from that night. He moved so swiftly, silently. I try to reconcile that mania with the man who's been otherwise so controlled and empty that it sends chills down my spine—but it's impossible.

I squirm a little, feeling the heat of my skin. The alcohol combined with my small high makes me feel like my body is both weightlessly floating and delicately overstimulated. The air is suddenly too hot and a flush travels through me as I recall the searing, hard press of his body in that alleyway. The unrelenting shutter of his breaths and the way they mixed with mine. The only sign giving away how fast his heart was beating against mine.

Aside from that, he felt made of stone—hopelessly unmovable, destructive, a monster from hell.

My heart is racing and a heat is building between my thighs.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

"You good?"

I tune back into the room, seeing that Shiv and Tori have returned. Tori drapes herself in Nate's lap and he pats her helpfully on the back. I'm pretty sure those two have been hooking up for the last few months. And unfortunately for Nate, I'm even more sure he's in love with her. Tori has a particular taste for rich, powerful men, and it doesn't seem like she'll be compromising that anytime soon.

Seth sends me a questioning look, offering me a glass of water, which I take gratefully. Extremely thankful nobody can see the fucked up direction my thoughts just took.

"David called me today," I announce without really meaning to. But it's a better thing to focus on than whatever else is going through my head.

"Booooo," Tori groans into Nate's shirt, and he nods in loyal agreement.

I eye her worriedly, the way she seems to be drunker than usual. I pulled Tori aside earlier to speak about Massimo and what happened that led to her bloody nose. After much cajoling, she reluctantly confirmed Massimo's story. I hate to admit that I suspected she was lying from the very beginning, but it's the way she is. She's reckless and has always been that way.

I still don't like the guy, but at least he only assaulted me and not one of my friends. That's a plus.

Perhaps I should've told the girls that he's my new neighbor, but I don't want to broach that topic just yet. They'll jump into action and do something stupid, and then it'll be all their lives at risk.

Shiv gets that look on her face, the violent one that tells me she's out for blood, and I force back thoughts of Massimo. They seem to be more... forthcoming when I'm not sober. "What did David want?"

"He lost something and wanted me to look for it. But that's not important," I dismiss, "because I realized something. I definitely should not have been sleeping with him, but—"

In a sudden clamor that has me jumping in fright, my friends start whooping and clapping.

"Thank fuck," Nate sighs, "that guy was a drag. My great-grandfather is more exciting than him, and he's dead."

"You deserve someone that excites you," Shiv says. "Even if you're just looking for casual sex, who says it has to be with someone so boring?"

"Exactly," Seth agrees amicably. "That guy was one of your worst, not gonna lie. So glad you realized. Took you a while though."

"She was doing things in her own Viv way," Nate supplies, and my friends nod along.

"Okay, that's not what I realized! That was just the lead up to my realization."

They straighten, comically shutting up and waiting for me to continue, but I frown. "Hold on, I have a Viv way?"

Seth shrugs. "You can just be... avoidant. Non-confrontational. Kind of stand-offish, but in a blissfully ignorant 'I'm just having fun' way."

"With love," Nate tacks on, but he's hardly paying attention anymore. Tori is trying to unbutton his pants.

"Anyway," I gape, "like any of you have healthy sex lives! But that's not the point. The point is that I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life!"

"Oh dear," someone mutters, but I'm on a role now. My thoughts are being pushed along at two hundred miles per hour. I've had many a serious life realization in many a club. This isn't unusual.

"Viv, you're hot," Nate says kindly. "There are so many guys who would fuck you. Don't worry!"

"It's not that," I say. "It's that... I don't think I'm going to fall in love with someone. Sure, I've dated a few guys. But I don't think I've ever had deep feelings for any of them, like the 'I want to be with you for the rest of my life' kind of feelings. Or even close to that. Sure, there are guys who want to be with me, but I just don't feel the same way and what if I never will? What if I will just never connect with someone in that way?"

"I thought you didn't want all that stuff, anyway," Seth points out. 

"Of course I don't! It's too much work!"

"Okay, we are taking this party outside, and preferably home," he mumbles, helping me to my feet and supporting me on one side. Nate carries a nearly unconscious Tori over one shoulder, and Shiv holds my other hand as we all move in a dysfunctional cluster to the exit.

"I'm never going to fall in love!" I tell the bouncer as he holds the door open for us. He nods kindly, like he gets drunk girls airing their problems to him all the time. What I don't tell him is that I'm horny for a fucking psychopath, but that's an even bigger problem in my opinion. 

"Maybe you just haven't been looking in the right places," Shiv suggests as we all pile into Seth's car. She grabs my hand and entangles her fingers with mine. "But you know what? It's okay if you never meet the right person. You have us."

"I know," I sigh, squeezing her hand gratefully. "And I like being single." It's always been my default, and I've been waiting for that to change. Waiting for the desire for a real romantic relationship to kick in. The kind where you want to be with that person all the time and share intimate parts of yourself with them nobody else gets to see. And waiting and waiting. But the only thing that seems to be changing is the intensity with which I feel that the less emotion I have to deal with from a partner, the better. "But only if it's a choice and not because there's something deeply fucking wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong with you," Nate insists from the driver's seat, giving me a sweet smile. "I'd fuck you any day, V."

"Dude, that's not the fucking point," Shiv says, and after a few moments of silence we all burst into laughter.

I spend the ride home wondering about things my sober mind would never dare venture to. Particularly a pair of intriguing yet vacant eyes that I know I'll be seeing in my dreams tonight.