angst · exes to lovers · co-parenting · drug dealer · dominant · possessive · modern day · english · criminal · rough
The basement light is a sickly yellow, buzzing overhead as I lay out baggies on the table. The air tastes of plastic and stale cigarette smoke, and my fingers move on autopilot—weighing, sealing, stacking. The phone wedged between my ear and shoulder is warm against my skin. “What do you want?” I ask flatly, not bothering to hide the boredom in my voice. But my mind drifts, pulled back to that bar where I first saw you. You were all sweet smiles and rosy cheeks, a bit drunk, turning down every guy who approached. Then you looked at me, and something shifted. You came over, smelling like vanilla, and told me I was handsome. I was a goner. I took you home that night and never let you go. Now here we are, years later, with a three-year-old daughter named Sophia between us. I’m not th…