There are three makeshift beds in here, and all my stuff is in a couple of cases and a box. It’s a pretty shitty way to live, but it’s all I’ve ever known.
Mum dragged me from shithole to shithole and introduced me to all the down and outs that live in this city.
Thankfully, no one else is actually in the room right now, so I drop my backpack on my bed and start rummaging for some clean clothes, hoping the bathroom is empty and in some kind of working order.
The creak of footsteps sounds out from behind me and my spine straightens. Jet knows where I live.
Just a few more shifts, then I can get paid for the month and get him off my back. For now.
Only, when my visitor speaks, I realise I’m not in danger.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You can’t live here like this.”
When I glance over my shoulder, he looks furious. As his eyes flit around the small room, they’re filled with disbelief.
“It’s done me okay for most of my life.”
He opens his mouth to respond but clearly doesn’t have any words because he just closes it again.
“Do you mind? I need to have a shower and get ready for work.”
“I’m not leaving you here.”
“Then it looks like you’re moving in as well. Good thing about that is that no one will notice.” I roll my eyes, going back to my bag to find some clean underwear. I really need to get my arse to the launderette.
A growl is emitted from behind me before large hands wrap around my waist and I’m moving.
“Do you fucking mind? Arsehole.”
“No, I really fucking don’t.”
I watch as he bends down where I just was and starts shoving all the haphazardly strewn clothes inside before zipping it up.
“What else is yours?”
I stare at him as he picks up the two cases before flicking my eyes to the box beside them.
“That too?”
For fuck’s sake. I chastise myself for not staying strong.
“You can’t force me away from this place. I live here. I pay rent here.”
“Well, then I’m about to save you some money.”
“Uh—”
“Tiny, either follow me, or I’ll carry you out like all your shit.”
“It’s not shit. It’s my life.”
He looks down at the pathetic number of possessions I own, and a sadness I don’t need to see washes across his face.
Looking away, my eyes land on my best friend’s bed beside mine. Jodie and I have been friends for years. I can’t just up and leave her.
“Let’s go, Tiny.”
“No.” I stand firm with my hands on my hips, but I know it’s a battle that I’m not going to win.
“You’re a pain in the fucking arse, you know that?”
“I’ve been told a time or two.”
He drops the cases and stalks toward me. I back up, but I only make it two steps before I hit the wall.
His palms plant themselves on the dirty paint either side of my head, and he bends his knees so he’s at my eye level.
“I’ve got a perfectly good guest room with your name written all over it.” His eyes hold mine, but I hate the pity I see in their depths.
Ripping my stare away, I look at his shoulder instead.
“There’s no point in arguing with me on this. You send me away, and I’ll come back with Zach. We both know he’ll give you even less of a choice than I am right now.”
I blow out a breath, an emotion that I don’t want to be feeling beginning to burn in my eyes.
“Tiny?” His fingers connect with my chin and he forces me to look back at him. “Fuuuck,” he whispers when he sees the tears filling my eyes.
His hand moves up to cup my cheek, and his thumb catches the lone tear when it drops. I hate myself for being weak. Living in places like this all my life has hardened me better than this. But one look in his chestnut eyes and I turn to mush.
Damn him.
“You hungry?” he asks, changing tack.
I nod. I’m starving after not having anything to eat last night and unable to turn down the offer of some decent food.
“Good.” He reaches back down and takes my cases in one hand. By some miracle he also scoops up the box. “This everything?”
I nod, because I’m still very reluctant about this, but I don’t think I stand a chance in hell of arguing with him right now.
I follow him out of the house. The pair of us get more than a few curious looks, but as is usually the way, people stay out of my business.
It never used to be like this, but the second people started to learn that I owed Jet, they started backing away. Everyone aside from Jodie, that is.
My stomach twists at the thought of leaving her here alone. Her life’s about as screwed up as mine. I look back up the stairs, part of me longing for the only home I’ve ever known, while the other half of me screams that I should be happy about this.
I’m getting a chance at the only thing I’ve ever really wanted. A real home. I should be shouting and screaming in excitement right now.
Spike comes to a stop at his bike, looking between it and my limited possessions.
“Suddenly realising that this was a stupid idea?”
He thinks for a minute before pulling his phone out. He taps away at the screen before announcing that it’s sorted.
I keep my eyes on him as he drops it back into his pocket, the denim of his jeans tightening across his crotch as he does so, giving me a hint of the bulge I was lucky enough to get an eyeful of this morning.
Maybe his idea won’t be so bad. It’ll give me the opportunity to torment him again. Last night might have been all kinds of fucked up, but I can’t deny that I didn’t enjoy teasing him.
I stand awkwardly on the pavement, waiting to see what his new plan is, suddenly achingly aware that I look every part the homeless girl standing outside the house share while he’s looking insanely hot and put together in his dark jeans and white, long-sleeved Henley that shows off his muscular arms and sculpted torso.
My mouth waters as I look at him, thinking about the indents of his abs. I wonder if his muscles would twitch the way I’m imagining if I were to trace them with my tongue.
“You’re staring.”
My eyes fly up to his, my chin dropping.
“Sleep deprived,” I mutter, trying to get out of being caught, but when I risk a glance up at him and find a smirk on his lips, I know he’s not believing a word of it.
“Here’s the car,” he states, stepping forward when a black saloon comes to a stop before us.
“What about your bike?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not leaving my baby here.”
I raise a brow at him, firstly because he called his bike his baby, but mostly because of his accusation.
“Why? What do you think would happen to it?”
He glances back over his shoulder at either the drunk or high guys hanging around. It’s not even midday and they’re all off their faces.
“I know this might have been where you lived, Tiny. But it’s a fucking shithole.”
My lips purse with my need to defend where I’ve lived for longer than I want to admit, but really, it’s pointless. I’m not blind. I can see this place for what it is. Plus, there’s a good chance that one of Jet’s boys are watching us right now, and I’m sure they’d delight in riding the thing into the Thames the second we turn our backs.