Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
She’s nestled so deep in my emotions, in my soul—extracting her has seemed fatal for a while. Now, I’d rather die before anyone attempts it. I’ll never love anyone as much as I love Luna. She’s it.
She’s everything. She’s been everything I could ever hope for and dream of.
If this might change how she sees me, then so be it. I can’t keep this part of my past from her anymore.
“I sort of fell into it at first,” I whisper. “I was eighteen.” I tell her what I told Lo. How a bachelorette party asked me to basically strip, but it spiraled into paying me for sex. “But I made a mistake,” I breathe. Her eyes are back on mine.
“What do you mean?” She dabs at my cheek with a washcloth. It stings, so I know the cigarette burn is bad, but I don’t recoil.
“I told my parents about it, about how the girls paid me to have sex. It opened a door I couldn’t close for a long time. They’d put me in positions I didn’t know how to get out of.”
“Weren’t they in prison?”
“In and out,” I whisper. “They needed money, so I felt obligated to help them. Like if I could send ‘em something more, they’d stay clean. So I did what I could. It was easy money. Too easy sometimes.”
Luna contemplates this. “Did you like it?”
“Being paid to have sex?”
“Yeah?” Her brows crinkle in thought. “Was it something you hated doing, I guess I’m asking?”
This is harder to answer. “I love sex. If I didn’t love it, I wouldn’t be having it with you as much as we do.” I trace a tiny freckle on her shoulder, then lift my eyes to hers. “There were times I was alright with it. I could chalk it up to a fun night. Others, I regret with my whole life inside me. Like if I could turn back the clock, I’d kick my ass so hard it’d bruise, and I’d say, get out.”
Her arms tighten around me.
I comb a wet hand through my hair, dampening the strands as I push them back. Curling longer, grown-out pieces behind my ears. Then I rest that palm on her neck. “Most of the situations I hated were ones I didn’t set up. Things I didn’t plan for or even wanna go through with.” A ball ascends my throat, and I clear it. “I wasn’t a little kid, you know. I made my own choices, but I didn’t appreciate being baited. Felt like my mom would do that a lot. I’d go visit her, and she’d…she’d leave me with people who were looking to pay for a quickie or a blow job. Men, sometimes.”
Luna flinches, her eyes saucers.
I gauge her shocked reaction. “I shoulda told you earlier—”
“It’s okay—”
“It’s not though,” I whisper. “You shoulda known.”
Luna shrugs. “I didn’t ask for your sexual history, and I can’t even tell you exactly who I’ve slept with or what I’ve done because I’ve lost so many memories. My body count could be higher than yours, you know, and I bet it wouldn’t make a difference to you.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” I murmur.
We’re both untensing.
“How’d that go?” she wonders. “You with a guy?”
I tilt my head in thought. “I thought it’d be a good experience to see what I like. Then I realized I’m definitely straight. Never had anal with a dude. But I’ve sucked some dicks for cash, and I didn’t feel a thing, really. Just wanted the money.”
I tell her about one of the worst times. Got a black eye ‘cause the guy tried to pin me down, and I was having none of it. I fled the room, and when I exited into the kitchen, my mom apologized to her friend—said not one word to me.
I hated her for a second there.
Then I let it go. I always let it go, and later, I thought I loved her again.
“I don’t think you should be around her,” Luna concludes very gently.
“I know,” I say, feeling the same lately. “I’ve wanted things to change, for her to get out and get clean and stay clean, but it’s always been better when the door is shut between us.”
Luna runs the washcloth over my kneecap. “Does Farrow know?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Oscar and Farrow are the only ones who know almost everything. They were in my life when my parents popped in and out of prison—when I started turning tricks.” I stare off, my nose flaring at a sudden thought. “Farrow called me one night…asking where I was. I’d never had someone search for me. Like I…like I was someone worth finding. But I was afraid to be found.”
“Why?” she breathes.
“I didn’t wanna put him out. I didn’t even wanna carry my own baggage, and I was trying to drop it, not fling it on someone else.” I run my hand over my mouth, my eyes glassing. “He’d already done so much for me. Without wanting anything. Not even a thank you.” I tell her how I didn’t let him find me that night, but he saw the black eye the next morning.