She was letting me touch her.
I knew she was as shocked as I was the moment I reached up and started to massage her shoulders. But what I made look like a spur-of-the-moment decision was obviously the right one judging by the way her body instantly relaxed under my touch. And regardless that we were in the back part of this lounge with the lighting dimmed, I could see that her eyes—barely open now—had been close to rolling into the back of her head in ecstasy.
Even though it was only my hands and only her shoulders, my skin prickled with anticipation at the thought of what she would feel like naked underneath me, skin to skin. But I also knew that I had to slow down and treat Daphne’s momentary drop of her guard with care. This is business, you idiot. Keep it that way. I had to continually remind myself while still touching her.
My hands kept kneading her shoulders and slowly working the slope of her neck. When her head lolled to the side and then back, I scooted even closer so that she could lean against me. I could not script this whole thing any better if I tried. She was playing right into my plan perfectly. Thank god too because I was starting to freak out a little bit wondering how the fuck I was going to pull this shit off.
Oliver wanted us to be a couple. Or wanted us to be perceived as a couple to help with ratings. There was a fine line there that I had to be very careful with. I had the brilliant idea, though, that if we were seen out and about as a couple every so often, it might be enough to help us without being “flirty,” as Oliver called it on the actual show. And I did have connections with some of the gossip columnists in the city. So, I put two and two together, got in touch with one of my contacts and asked him to meet us here. Did I tell him that Daphne and I would be this cozy? Kind of. I hadn’t known how the hell I would ever convince her. But thank god for small miracles, because I could not have planned her reaction any better if I tried. I didn’t have to sell Daphne on anything. Now I was just waiting for the guy to snap his picture so I could call it a night.
“Oh my god, Max, are you a massage therapist or something in your free time?”
I chuckled. “No, but thanks for the compliment. I’ll make sure to mark it down in my calendar as the first time that you have ever sung my praises.”
“It will probably be the only time, I’m sure,” she said.
And then I must have hit a sweet spot and time stopped.
Because she made this almost guttural, blissful sound that had me imagining all the ways she would moan if I were inside of her. My dick was hardwired to stand up and take notice at the mere thought of fucking Daphne…or any woman, really. Who was I kidding? But the images of Daphne and I running through my head were so damn vivid, so real, that for a second I thought I could make it happen between us. More than that, I thought I wanted it to happen between us. And that just wasn’t going to work for either of us right now.
Thankfully, I looked up and caught the photog in question who would snap our picture at that exact moment. I tipped my head a bit, acknowledging him. A little for him to know that I was okay with him taking the picture and a lot for me to put an end to what I was feeling.
As he approached, I noticed that Daphne’s head was facing away from the camera. That wouldn’t do.
“Hey, you’re not falling asleep are you?”
I nudged her and she popped her head back up. All of her long brown hair came falling like a curtain between us. I took the liberty of sweeping it all to one side so that I could continue touching her and so her face would be clearly seen in the picture. God, I was a selfish bastard on so many levels.
The photog came a little bit closer and started snapping one picture after another. I mentally patted myself on the back for the sheer genius of it all.
And then it all went to shit.
“What the hell was that?! What’s going on?!” Daphne shrieked. “Who are you?!”
“Relax, I’m almost done,” the photog said to her. Then, he added, “Max this is great stuff. People are going to eat it up Thanks for the tip, buddy.”
“Okay, that’s enough. Thanks, Chad,” I told him.
He stopped snapping and disappeared into the crowd of people in the lounge. The fact that Daphne hadn’t said another word and seemed as if she had been frozen to the spot was more than scary. Because in my head, alarm bells were going off letting me know of the eminent danger I was in.
Then Daphne’s neck craned so far around that for a split second I could have sworn it would keep right on spinning like she was the fucking devil in The Exorcist. Her eyes were narrowed and she said in a low, ragged voice, “Get your hands off me, now.”
My hands flew off of her.
And my body, of its own volition went into self-preservation mode; I slid back over to my previous spot on the couch, giving myself at least two arm lengths away from her. Look, I was an asshole most of the time, but stupid, not so much. I knew that look in Daphne’s eyes met I was a dead man.
“What the hell did you do, Max?” she asked, still in a deadly whisper. “You know what? Don’t bother explaining. Just shut up and look pretty, because that’s all you’re good for.”
“Hey, there’s no need for insults.”
She was already standing up and grabbing her tiny purse from the couch.
“Wait a second, dammit,” I said, reaching up to take hold of her arm. That evil glare of hers was back in full force…it might have been worse this time around. To be honest, it scared the living shit out of me, so I pulled my hand back. “Daphne, please, I can explain.”
“You can shove your explanation up your ass, Max. To think, I put my trust in you and I told you that I didn’t want to regret that decision. But here I am regretting it already. That took all of...” she dramatically looked at her phone in frustration. I had to bite my lip from laughing. “That took all of twelve hours for you to fuck me over.”
Without waiting for me to answer her, she stormed away and into the crowd. Some of which were watching us and trying to figure out who we were. Obviously, someone recognized me because the next thing I heard being shouted out loudly for everyone to hear was, “Hey, it’s hashtag dickless, everyone!”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I mumbled to myself while pushing my way through the crowd.
Looking up ahead of me, I could still make out the back of Daphne’s head. She was barreling through the crowd like a freaking bull in a china shop. Not bothering to stop for anyone in her way.
I shouted after her. But she didn’t turn around. And I knew she freaking heard me, too. Because for all of a split second she hesitated. My heart started to beat like a trombone thinking she was going to stop and listen to me explain, but no dice. Instead of stopping, she hooked a quick right and side-stepped some poor bastard who was standing in her way, double fisted with beer bottles, a huge smile on his face, and a t-shirt that said, Harambe loved Christmas too.
It was the stupid shirt that grabbed my attention away from Daphne. It was just so ridiculous that I slowed down long enough to do a double take. Once I read it and then looked up again to catch up to her, she was long gone.
“Fucking hipsters ruin everything,” I said under my breath in a long drawn out sigh.
Running a hand though my hair in frustration, I was at a loss as to what I should do next. Should I keep trying to run after her? Should I text her to explain myself? Should I just wait to see her in the morning and tell her all about it then?
I was one hundred positive that with any of those scenarios it wouldn’t matter one goddamn bit. Daphne was going to hate me regardless at this rate. And I hated her too. Or I was supposed to. I mean, she was my sworn enemy, right?
Damn, I felt like something was wrong or broken inside of me. Because with everything that happened here tonight, my usual asshole self had reached a level of assholedom the likes of which I had never thought possible to attain. And what was worse was that I actually felt bad about it. That feeling was completely new to me, and I didn’t like that one bit.