SIX by Ker Dukey

we can let you get away with before we have to abide by the rules and take you in.”
    “Noted.”
    My eyes dart between the retreating police officers, Six, and the stairs to my apartment.
    The dress now feels like I’m wearing just my underwear— has the hem gotten higher up? This is my fault.
    I should have been firmer with the handsy asshole and broke free before Six had to step in.
    His eyes track my own and my nerves bubble in my gut.
    Running to my apartment and hiding out or changing, at the very least, is sounding better and better with each second that passes.
    He’s mad at me, and I don’t want him to be. He has no right to be.
    My line of vision creeps to the stairs once more.
    “Don’t even think about it,” he warns, and I let out a defeated breath.
    “Why would you be dressed like that?” he accuses.
    “Why wouldn’t she be should be the question. Damn, Mist,” Lucky drawls, biting his fist.
    “Fuck off, Lucky.”
    “I’m just saying.”
    “Well, don’t. Now fuck off.”
    Holding up his hands and still grinning over at me, he takes off, slinging a, “Good luck,” over his shoulder, leaving Six and me alone.
    “What’s the problem with what I’m wearing? Are you insinuating I deserved that asshole to grab at me?” I fold my own arms and stand as straight as I can manage in these shoes.
    His jaw ticks and with a swipe of his tongue, his lips glisten.
    I want to lick the saliva off them.
    “I don’t care if a woman is buck ass naked and doing the slut drop, no man should put his hands on someone who doesn’t want it,” he growls.
    Muscles flex in his arms as he runs both hands over his head and then down his face. “I need a drink.”
    “I’ll pour you one,” I offer, going around the bar and grabbing the whiskey bottle from the top shelf.
    “You don’t look like yourself,” he mumbles, and I try not to sigh.
    I didn’t like him being upset, but at the same time, he didn’t own me.
    He was clear nothing would ever happen between us, so why would he care?
    “You mean hot,” I jest, waving a hand down my outfit and giving him a wink.
    His face remains resigned.
    I stop what I’m doing to shake my head at him.
    He taps the glass on the bar, instructing me to fill it without words.
    I roll my eyes and pour the liquor.
    “You don’t need to put on a slinky dress to make you hot, Mist. You’re the sun, and I need sunscreen because I’m burning up.” He gulps down the drink like it’s water and leaves me standing there, open-mouthed.
    The door slams on his exit and I jump . Roller coaster.

 
    I’m stoned on that girl. Fuck
    The copper twang bursts on to my taste buds as I bite down on my tongue thinking about seeing Misty coming down those stairs dressed in a figure-hugging, skimpy dress and high heels.
    Her legs appeared to go on forever and each step she took flashed her panties. Her hair was down and had lighter color raining through it.
    Makeup smeared across her eyes gave her this smoky, sultry-as-sin look.
    I watched every sway of her hips as she walked amongst the bodies filling the place, all eyes on her, and then he grabbed her.
    Being so close to the edge of my own demons was scary for me.
    I haven’t felt that kind of blood-steaming, bone-solidifying anger since Haley. And it was scary touching my darkness in a room full of people, and in front of Misty. If it weren’t for her hand reaching out and touching mine, I would have gone over the edge and cut that man’s throat.
    Instead, I taught him a valuable lesson he will be reminded of daily when he looks in the mirror.
    Nothing got me from zero to ten quicker than a fucking punk thinking he can use his size and strength to overpower an unwilling woman.
    Twisting my neck and rolling my shoulders, I try to think about anything else.
    It had been a week since that night and I still relived it every day and dreamed about it every night.
    She has a way of making me think about her without actually doing anything.