Alana
INDIAN MUSIC THUMPS through the speakers. I sit between Tate’s legs on the gray pillow as he rests his chin on top of my head. Talk about an awkward situation. It’s weird seeing Tate with clothes on—we spend most of our time naked, him inside of me or me on my knees or his face buried between my legs. So yeah, trying to get to know him without sex involved doesn’t spark my interest. Should have stayed in and ordered food.
My phone dings with a Facebook notification. I click on it and a friend request from Darien Casey pops up. How the hell did he find me? My cheeks flush as I scroll through his photos. Him at the gym with his shirt off. His body is hot. Six-pack abs, chiseled chest, muscular arms. Of course he’s got a body like a god. Fucking swoon. I place my index finger and thumb on the screen, making the picture bigger. There’s a dreamcatcher tattoo on his right pec. Hitting the back button to the home page, I tap the accept button and shove my phone back into my denim pocket. Can’t help thinking about Darien and how he turns me on. Swear I’ve never been so horny for a man in a while. And the way he told me he would bend me over to fuck me made my panties soaked. I was so hoping he would.
“So I have this project to do, it’s easy as fuck. Have to prove why a company should be held accountable for not providing all the ingredients in a food box,” Tate says as he inhales tobacco from the hookah in his mouth. I mimic him.
“What is your plan after college?” I blow smoke in the air. What the hell is he talking about?
“Work as a corporate lawyer.” He pushes my hair to the side and kisses me on my shoulder. And he says something else, but I don’t catch it—I’m distracted by the woman rolling her belly in front of us. We sit on a floor in front of a black table low to the ground. The couple sitting next to us tips the woman. The woman holds out her hand, so I grab it and I try to roll my belly, but I don’t have a dancing bone in my body. Music stops and everyone cheers and claps. The short woman with black straight hair bows her head, and I return to my seat.
“I want us to start dating,” Tate says, planting a kiss on my forehead. Whoa, definitely didn’t see this coming.
Shifting on the gray pillow, unable to get comfortable, I say, “I just got out of a really bad marriage and . . .” I don’t feel that way about you. You’re just good for a good time. I can’t say those things without hurting his feelings. Maybe if I really try hard then I can grow to like him, maybe even love him. Tate won’t break my heart. He’s such a sweet guy and so nice. So why don’t I feel the same way about him? Because you’re attracted to assholes. Charles is an asshole, and that’s what I loved about him. But look where it got me, a broken heart. “Let’s go out again, and I’ll let you know.”
It can buy me some time to see if I like him. I don’t want to be with him because I just got out of a marriage, but I don’t want to end our relationship because I need to move on and get over Charles.
“Cool.” He laces his fingers with mine.
Tate drops me off at home; I just want to be by myself and have a clear head when he is not around. As I push the door open, Crystal sits with her legs propped on the coffee table. The Shameless theme song plays on the flat screen.
“Spill the beans about Tate.” A smile reaches her eyes.
I kick off my black ankle boots, place them on the rack next to the door and make my way to the worn couch. “He wants us to start dating.” She passes the bowl of popcorn to me, and I grab a handful, stuffing it in my mouth.
“Are you going to?” She unwraps the wet towel from her head and tosses it on the wooden floor.
“Don’t know. Haven’t decided.”
“You should. Tate seems to have his shit together.”
But Tate doesn’t make me crazy about him. Sure, he looks good on paper. He’s graduating at the top of his class with a 4.3 and he tutors undergraduates at NYU, and he is going to be a corporate lawyer. He’s a gentleman—opens doors for me and treats me with respect. But I don’t get any flutters in my stomach when I see him. My heart doesn’t jump for joy. There are no fireworks between us.
To take the spotlight off me, I change the subject. “How are things with you and Clarence?” I set the bowl on the table, and she folds her legs under her butt.
She begins to bite her pinky nail and says, “I missed my period.”
“What? But you’re on birth control.”
“Well . . .” She drags the word out.
“Crystal! You’re supposed to be careful,” I say through tight lips. She knows what I went through after I got pregnant.
“I’ve been missing some days. Okay?” She heaves a sigh.
“Have you told Clarence?”
She shakes her head. The credits begin to play on the screen. “No. I’m going to give it another week and then I’m going to take a test.”
“What if you are?”
Swallowing hard, she says, “Let’s not think about that.”
The next night Tate and I arrive at a fancy restaurant and I feel like a fish out of water. Everyone is dressed in business suits and cocktail dresses, and Tate and I are dressed in casual wear. A graphic tee fits loosely on my torso and black high-rise jeans snug my flat tummy. Tate doesn’t look any better, dressed in faded blue skinny jeans and a blue-and-black-checked shirt that falls to his knees, a man bun on the top of his head. If I didn’t know that he was pursuing law, I would think he was a hippie.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you were taking me to a fancy restaurant?” I say, following the hostess to the booth.
Shrugging his shoulders, he says, “I wanted to surprise you. Don’t worry about the dress code, my father owns this restaurant.”
“You didn’t bring me here to meet your father, did you?” I hope he doesn’t hear the panic in my voice.
He shakes his head.
The hostess hands us our menu and tells us to enjoy. I scan the menu. God, this place is expensive—the lobster tail and steak is eighty-six dollars. As much as I love steak and lobster, I wouldn’t pay this price.
“Don’t worry about the cost, I’ll put it on my tab,” Tate murmurs.
The waitress takes our orders, and I remove my jacket and place it on the back of the wooden chair. It’s stuffy in here.
I cross my arms on the table.
“You look beautiful today.” His eyes meet mine.
“Thank you.”
He clears his throat and says, “My graduation is in December, and I want you to come.”
The restaurant is absolutely stunning. Silk cloth covers the table, and the silverware is so shiny you can see your reflection. French paintings hang on the wall and a long fish tank is inset in the wall. It’s like I’ve stepped on the set of Beauty and the Beast. As I admire the artwork, I see Darien’s arrogant ass. He is not alone—he’s with a woman. She appears to be the same age as me but carries herself with more grace than I do. I’m assuming she is high maintenance because of the dress she is wearing—expensive, designer, and sophisticated. She has luscious wavy brown-sugar hair, like she goes to the salon on a regular basis. Unlike me. I don’t go to the salon often. I can do my own hair. Why pay a shit-ton of money for stuff you can do? They look like the perfect couple, like Barbie and Ken. They sit two tables from us and Darien’s eyes connect with mine. Busted, I look down at the white tablecloth and bring my focus back to him. A smirk plays on the corner of his mouth. I look away again and the third time I look back at him he continues to stare at me. His date follows his eyes, and I glance at Tate. Why won’t Darien let me eye-fuck him?
The waitress sets our drinks down on the table.
“What?” I ask Tate.
“Graduation. Are you coming?”
“Don’t know yet. Where is the bathroom?”
“On the left next to the kitchen.”
I stand up from the table and rush to the bathroom like my ass is on fire. Can’t believe Darien is here. What’s worse is I am on a date with another guy and I am thinking about him. Not gonna lie, I thought about what he said about bending me over. I remember the way he looked at me when he took me out for breakfast. The hungry look in his eye like I was his prey and he was sizing me up, ready to devour me. Lust danced in his gray eyes like it had its own ritual.
I wipe my face with a wet paper towel and clean boogers from my eye. As I exit the restaurant, Darien leans against the gray wall with his legs crossed. He looks even more yummy up close in that black three-piece suit and long black coat. My bet is it’s something designer, like Burberry. I don’t know which one looks better—the expensive suit or the cashmere sweater he was wearing when I first met him. I have to tilt my chin to look at him because he is tall and I only come up to the middle of his chest.
“You’re stalking me?” I snort.
He lets out a slight laugh, bends down, and his lips are inches from mine. For a second, I think he’s gonna kiss me. And if he did, I would let him. I want to taste the alcohol on his plump lips. The tension between us is growing thick, and I inhale deeply.
“Sweetheart, I’m not stalking you. You’re with Tom tonight?”
“His name is Tate.”
“What-the-fuck-ever.” He undresses me with his eyes again. My cheeks heat up. “You’re hot in your regular clothes. Although I’d prefer you wearing nothing but those black Converse.” He points to my shoes.
“You’re unbelievable.”
He steps forward, runs his hand through his dark hair. I wouldn’t mind playing with it and pulling on it. “I want to fuck you.” His words make heat rush to my sex, and I press my thighs together. How can he say that when he is on a date with someone else? I will not get involved with a man who doesn’t have a problem with cheating. Should march up to his date and let her know what kind of man she is dealing with.
“People in hell want ice water, but they don’t get it.”
Stepping back, I play with my ponytail, and he steps forward, tracing his fingers on my pouty lips. I gulp as my heart flutters against my ribcage.
“What about your date? She would be pissed that you’re trying to hook up with someone else,” I whisper. I step back.
“She’s not my date.” He steps forward.
“Right, it was nice seeing you, Darien, but I have to go.”
He grabs my arm and leans down, inches from my ear, and says, “This isn’t over. I’m a persistent man, and I always get what I want.” His breath tickles my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Don’t hold your breath,” I scoff, breaking away from his grip. Hate that I want to tear his clothes off and hump him like a horny teenage boy.
I sashay back to the table, and my food has arrived. The steam from my food evaporates into the air. “I don’t feel well, Tate.”
“What’s wrong?” he says, frowning.
I glance in Darien’s direction, and he speaks to his non-date. Whatever. Clearly, he is a liar.
“My stomach hurts. Can you take me home?” I lie. Can’t even look at him because I feel so guilty for not wanting him. My heart is supposed to be jumping for joy. I’m supposed to feel goose bumps when I’m around him. I’m going to tell Tate that I want to be friends and he deserves someone better than me.
“All right.” He flags down the waitress, and she gives us a to-go box.
“Can you kiss me, please?”
His eyes get big, and he nods his head. I place my lips over his and let my tongue roam his mouth, and his lips taste of Dr. Pepper. I suck on his bottom lip. Nope, there aren’t any fireworks between us. After Tate pulls away I look at Darien. I want him to see that he will not have a chance of fucking me. That I won’t give in to him. I’m hoping to piss Darien off, but he gives me a devilish grin and winks.
I am totally fucked.