Chapter 14
Mixed Messages
Ella
Heels clicking on the sidewalk, I hurried down the sidewalk with one arm held straight up in the air, hoping to hail a cab. But cabs in this city weren't nearly as ubiquitous as they were in New York.
The temperature was perfect when we'd left the condo—but now it was freezing cold. I had to keep my other arm snuggled tightly across my torso for warmth. The early morning chill was even more unbearable after being entrenched in the humid body heat of the dance floor at that stupid club.
I checked my phone and discovered yet another problem: my battery was completely dead, and that meant I didn't have Lance's address. I didn't know the way back to his condo. All I could do was describe the area he lived in and hope the cabbie might recognize it.
And that was Club Regret, I thought to myself, snickering cynically as I walked.
The club had lived up to its name. I would've been better off just heading home after dinner. But I guess I fooled myself—thinking I could be friends with Radar. Once he started flirting with me? He fucked my mind up. I might not fall for his games, but that doesn't mean I'm completely immune to the emotional bullshit a guy like him will put a girl through as he attempts to get laid.
Stupid jock, I muttered under my breath. Ugh, why are they always the same?
They had a way of creeping past your defenses and charming you with their oafish ways. But if you made the mistake of letting your guard down, and if you chose to see them as a gentle giant instead of what they really were—sleazy horn-dogs with no sense of loyalty—then the punch to the gut was always lying in wait for you.
I rolled my eyes at myself. The fact that I was even mildly upset about any of this just proved how pathetic I was in the first place. How could I even be this upset right now?
You know why.
It was because of the look Radar gave me on the dance floor. After all the shit-talking, the fake-flirting, the promises that we weren't into each other—that look he gave me was real. Just like last night. He really wanted to do it, didn't he? He really wanted to kiss me, and if he'd had a second longer, he would've done it!
And that's what fucked me up the most. I couldn't believe it at the time. I wanted to slap him! How could he? How could he actually want to kiss me, after all we'd already said to each other? About how we weren't interested in each other? About how it was a bad idea for so many reasons?
How could he be so dumb to even be thinking about trying? Didn't he know the damage he'd cause? And didn't he know he wouldn't get laid?
And yet … I didn't slap him. I didn't slap him when I should've: the very moment I could tell the wheels were turning in his head, and his eyes began to soften with intimacy, and I knew damned well that he'd begun to desire my lips. The horror of it all was sort of entrancing. Maybe even alluring. I guess I wanted to see if he could really go through with it. And I was curious if I could go through with it, too, and what might happen if we did give in to a moment of weakness.
And then, right then, right when it seemed like it was about to happen—
His girl showed up.
And oh man, the look of pure horror on his face, as his big fateful moment was snatched away from his grubby paws, as if by divine intervention. Like God were personally telling him, you don't deserve this girl, Radar.
What was going through his mind in that moment? Oh, how I'd love to know. I hoped it burned him. I hoped it gave him a serious case of whiplash, as he shifted from working up the nerve to take a chance on something so uncertain, to suddenly having his sure-thing, arranged-lay for the night show up and throw herself all over him. God, that was poetic justice. I hoped he felt dumb and awful. Frankly, it served him right that she showed up at that very moment.
For my part? I appreciated Kara's timely intrusion. It was a perfect reminder of the kind of guy that Radar was: a guy who went for easy lays. He liked girls who squeal his name while they run up to him, girls who jump into his arms and plant their kisses all over his neck, who dress in skin-tight dresses with their tits and ass hanging out, who smell like booze and cheap perfume …
They were probably all over each other at this very moment, freak-dancing in the club, tongues lodged in each other's throats. I could just picture her jumping into his arms, her legs over his shoulders, shrieking in a fake and obnoxious falsetto as Radar powered her into the air with his obscene dry-humping dance moves. All the blood in Radar's brain would drain straight to his cock, and he'd forget I was ever with him tonight.
Gross. He's such a pervert. After tonight, I don't care if I ever see him again. I'll have to go out of my way to avoid him at Lance's … but it can be done. Oh, it can be done.
Another stream of traffic passed, and still no taxi. I groaned.
And then I thought I heard my name.
“Ella!”
But I didn't turn and look because I was sure I was imagining it. No one in this city knew me.
Then I heard it again, closer, and this time followed by the hurried stride of an athlete in expensive leather shoes.
“Ella! Hey! Ella!”
I stopped and turned. It was him. Radar sprinted after me, his arm waving madly to grab my attention. A gush of relief displaced the bitterness in my heart, but I remained determined to keep him at a skeptical and healthy distance.
This guy is just so full of mixed messages and he's fucking my head up.
***
I don't know if he was expecting me to throw myself in his arms and have some romantic kiss like out of a movie, but once Radar caught up to me, the moment seemed to grow awkward. I stood with my arms folded and he doubled over, panting for breath.
“Hey,” he said.
“What are you doing here?”
“I, uh.” Huff, puff. “I couldn't let you leave like that.”
“Why not? That was the plan all along, wasn't it?”
“Yeah, but …” Radar trailed off. He didn't have the words and that fact made him look briefly annoyed at himself. “Damn. Look, Ella, you're covered in goosebumps. I told you you'd be cold …”
He took his suit jacket off in a hurry and held it out for me to put on. But I regarded the jacket, and the act itself, with suspicion.
“Oh, come on, just wear my jacket,” he urged. “You're obviously cold.”
It was true, I was freezing. Begrudgingly, I stepped forward, and Radar helped me into it. The jacket was still sizzling with his blistering body heat. I pulled the jacket tight over my chest and one final chill ran down my spine.
“There,” he said. “How's that?”
“Better. Thank you.” The smell of his cologne surrounded me, mingled with my senses, my thoughts. “Why are you here, though? Where's your hot babe?”
“She's back at the club. I left her.”
“Why?”
“Really, Ella? Do I have to explain everything?”
“Yeah, you do.”
“Because you're our guest. And it didn't feel right, the way you left. Nothing about tonight felt right and I didn't want to leave you all alone in a strange city.”
I huffed. “I told you, you don't have to worry. I can take care of myself. I can find my way home. I live in New York, remember?”
“Yeah? You know you're walking in the wrong direction then, right, Miss Big City?”
I gulped. “Er.”
“Yeah. That's why it took me so long to catch up to you. I left almost as soon as you did, but I ran a few blocks in the other direction first.” Radar pointed 180 degrees in the opposite direction. “The condo is that-away.”
“… My phone died,” I whimpered, feeling about two inches tall. “I don't have your guys' address memorized.”
“Damn. Thank God I found you then.” Radar shook his head. “If I got you lost in the city? Lance would be right to kill me.”
“So … what do we do now?” I asked.
“We're gonna get you home.” Radar pulled out his phone and called for a cab. He gave them the address and hung up.
“They said five minutes,” he told me.
“Thank you.”
The two of us passed the minutes rather silently. It felt like there was a lot we could both say in that moment, but no one had any desire to talk. Instead, we toed at the sidewalk and milled around in place. We watched the lights of traffic flying up and down the street. We stepped aside for the large and boisterous groups of bar and club-goers that roamed the sidewalk.
Radar sidled next to me and let out a gentle breath. “Hey. What's on your mind?” he finally asked.
I gave a short laugh and shook my head. “My mind's fried.”
He gave a nod. “Yeah. I hear you. Same.”
I thought that was an invitation to ask. “What's on your mind?”
He shook his head. “I shouldn't say.”
This time, I wasn't tempted to convince him otherwise.
But then Radar blew out a breath. “To hell with it, I'm just going to say it: I had a fun time with you tonight, Ella. Like, an actual good time. Once you left? I just looked at Kara, and like … I dunno. I didn't even know what happened. It all happened so fast. I just didn't want you to leave. I shouldn't even say it, but—” He grit his teeth. “I like you, Ella. I know I'm not supposed to, but I do.”
My mind knew better, but the heart was always a fool. My heart pumped and churned with waves of warmth, and good vibes flowed outward through my whole body.
He neared confidently, a man on a mission. He pulled me against his warm body and nestled me tightly. I didn't look up. He tried to stroke the hair out of my face but I let out a short burst of laughter and turned away. “No. Don't. Don't even.”
“Why not?”
“Because you're drunk and you're acting ridiculous, Radar.”
“How am I ridiculous?”
“You know you shouldn't touch me like that.” I planted my hands against his hard stomach and shoved, separating us. “You know nothing good can come out of this. Only bad.”
He nodded gravely, guiltily. “I know.”
With brakes squealing, our cab slowed to a stop at the curb in front of us. Radar held the door open for me.
“And the only reason you like me,” I told him as I climbed into the cab, “is because you can't have me.”
He didn't deny it.