Firefly

13: dark person, darker humor.

Chapter 13: dark person, darker humor.

Justin

1. Valarie Melton
2. Miley Dawson
3. Tristan Roberts
4. Vivian Wyatt
5. Stella Russo
6. Spencer Velvet

"Sophie Fuller," the blonde streeled her fingers down my bicep curl, her piper eyes bright with an invitation as they dipped to my crotch and swept back to my eyes. She would've been my next chase but I've learned from previous experiences not to mess with an investor's daughter. It's too much work and dirt. "Does your father work in the Butterfly too?" 

Not a muscle changes on my face. Butterfly's business parties and The Baxter's nightclub were eminent woman-hunting places for most men in town. But I wasn't looking for any tonight. I got what I came here for. And now that my work is done, it's time for me to leave.

Despite her short, tight dress and suggestive words, she looked like the type who came across as bold and rough but would shed these layers halfway through and expect me to be sweet and courteous.

Kindness and chivalry don't apply to me. 

If I spend my time on a woman, it'll only be for what it's intended to be—fucking. No kissing, no dating, no cuddling, no sleeping over, no dinner, and no commitments. I'm never getting into any of it. 

I pulled my arm out of her trap and hopped off my seat. "No. I work here. My father owns the Butterfly." I give her a pursed smile before buttoning my blazer. Desire deepens in her eyes but I start walking to the exit of the building. 

I was the youngest recruit of Butterfly. I'd learned to program when I was seven. I'd grasped knowledge as I watched my dad work, but I'd improvised when I did it myself. Coding became a hobby, just like basketball. They were two anchors for my roaring thoughts. It powered my passion and enthusiasm in life. 

I nod at a few colleagues who are in their late twenties or mid-thirties on my way out. The success party of the new site launch was getting boring. I had assisted in the newly encrypted site, despite being a part-time techie and as promised, I'd earned my share of twenty percent. 

Butterfly parties meant the rich folks of Orange township gathering in the skyscraper for dinner and wine. There were not many developers who were under the age of twenty-five. Just a handful. When the big town shareholders attended the party, they brought in their eye candy wives and spoilt, narcissistic daughters who threw themselves at the handful of single men. 

I douse my royal blue blazer into the back seat of my car over my laptop bag without causing a crease. I undo my cufflinks and roll the sleeves of my white shirt until my elbows. With my reflection against the dark windows of my car, I definitely don't look like an eighteen-year-old senior. 

I perch into my car undoing the top buttons of my shirt. My eyes graze the empty leather seat beside me while I put my seatbelt on. The face of the girl sleeping in my seat seventeen hours ago debuts into my mind. 

My phone rings as soon as it connects to the stereo. I answer the call as I pull my car out of the basement and back to the heart of Cadford. "Justin, still in Butterfly?" Dallas asks me. 

"No, just left." I relax into my seat. 

Dallas has a strike-up. Another two strikes and our friendship will be in ashes. He knows it better than I do. "Great, we're at The Velveteen."

My share of socialization for today is saturated. "I'm tired. I'll see you in school tomorrow." 

Dallas groans. "You bailed today without a heads up. Even Coach Jenson was mad. Just drop in for ten minutes. Have coffee. You wouldn't have eaten anything yet, I'm sure."