Tyler spread my thighs and tensed his ass, pressing into me further. He growled a string of expletives, and then relaxed, exhaling after catching his breath. He looked up at me, sleepy and satisfied. “God damn, woman.”

I leaned over, lifting my leg, and then crawled off the bed. He watched me dress as he lay on his side, ignoring the knocking on the door.

“I, uh … I work a lot. I’m on the Alpine Hotshot crew, and—”

“So?” I fastened my bra behind me, and then stepped into my underwear.

Tyler paused, trying to decide what to say next. “So … are those Calvin Kleins?”

I looked down at the extra small men’s tighty whities I’d slipped on. Lace, thongs, cheekies … not my thing. “Yeah?”

He chuckled. “So, uh … I won’t be able to … you know—”

“Call? That makes two of us.”

Tyler stood up and began collecting his clothes while the pounding from the hall began again. “Maddox! You in there?”

“For fuck’s sake, Zeke! Hang on!” he said, pulling on his jeans.

He was waiting for me to dress before opening the door, but I’d barely pulled my T-shirt over my head before his friends opened the door.

One of the men, a bit shorter and a lot bulkier, nodded to me, and then—realizing I was half naked—stared at the floor. “You ready or what?”

“I’m ready, Zeke,” Tyler said, grinning at me.

Zeke pointed behind him with his thumb. “They’re tearing up the place. Want us to help you get them out of here?”

I shook my head. “I have a great cleanup crew.”

“I don’t think they can clean your couch. There’s down feathers all over the floor.”

“I’ll buy a new one.”

Tyler frowned. “Let’s put a stop to that shit.”

Zeke nodded. “And then we’re going.”

Tyler winked at me. “Thanks for the, um … pleasant surprise.”

“I’d say anytime, but neither of us call.”

Tyler breathed out a laugh, looking down, and then back up at me from under his thick lashes. “I guess. See you around, Ellison.”

“It’s Ellie. And probably not.”

He didn’t seem fazed. “Good night.” He took a step back and closed the door.

I sat on the mess of sheets, blankets, and throw pillows that was my parents’ bed. Tyler’s condom was hanging halfway off the rim of my mother’s wastebasket next to her vanity by the door. Tyler was a terrible shot.

I curled into the fetal position, shedding tears no one would see. Crying, not because I was ashamed, but because I knew no matter how trashed the house would be, or how horribly I’d disrespected my parents’ room, they wouldn’t be angry. They would forgive me, and pity me. I would forever be their perfect little girl. The louder I screamed, the tighter they’d mash their hands over their ears.