Laurie answered the door after my second knock, right as I started considering kicking the door in.
He'd changed out of his street clothes and into a big blue sweatshirt with a pocket in the front, with what looked like black flannel pajama pants underneath.
He could've been a teenager at home on a school night watching some TV before bed.
Except for the bruises around his neck and the wariness in his dark blue eyes. At least I wasn't responsible for the bruises.
His eyes flicked down to the bags in my hand. "You didn't need to bring anything. I have condoms and lube here."
I stepped forward, forcing him to step back and let me in if he didn't want me to run right into him.
"I'm not here to fuck you." I walked past, trying not to sniff him too obviously, and set the bags on the little square of cracked laminate countertop that was pretending to be his kitchen.
There was no microwave, but there was a single hot plate, and I opened the one cabinet, hoping for a pan.
