Lace and Paint (True Colors Book 1) by Ally Sky (10)

Wednesday morning, I make my way to Brick Lane again to congratulate Gary. Apparently he just had a baby, either a boy or girl, Sarah couldn’t really say.

The city has been busy and boisterous for the last two days, in honor of the Queen’s jubilee. Her Royal Highness arranged two free days for me, and I spent them in the basement, hiding away, writing my blog, and surfing the internet, wide awake until three in the morning.

I know what’s happening. I’m not stupid. I know that my body is reveling and I’m becoming dizzy. But I love it. God help me, I love myself this way, happy and cheerful, mischievous and carefree. Even if after all the fun, a few grey days will come along.

I long for Ben.

I have no intention of letting him know. I need to find the correct dosage that won’t chase him away. I’m not going to phone him like some high school girl. No, my plans are more sophisticated than that.

He wants me; he wants me not. What’s he so afraid of?

His history with Jenny bothers me. Ben might have chosen his words carefully, but I already knew something happened, something which burned him plenty, made him want to play games now and pretend, made him unwilling to get close.

I miss him, too much.

As I enter the gallery, Gary looks down from the top floor to see who it is. A huge grin appears on his face when he sees it’s me. I smile back at him.

“Hi! Talia! I’ll be right down,” he calls out, then clatters down the spiral staircase and joins me downstairs while I’m busy examining one of the paintings on the wall, some abstract painting in a mixture of purples and yellows. I turn my head as Gary stands next to me.

“Do you like it?” he enquires.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“That was my first reaction as well,” he laughs, “but it turns out I made a good decision by giving it a chance.”

“How come?”

“It was sold straight away. A woman came in and couldn’t resist it.”

“So how come it’s still here?” I pull a face.

“She’ll finish the renovations on her house on the weekend. I’ll send it to her on Sunday.”

“The more I look at it, the more I like it,” I say still standing in front of the colorful canvas.

“What brings you here?” he asks, changing the subject and I glance away from the painting.

“I heard congratulations are in order.” I smile widely and lift the present I have with me.

“Wow, that’s so nice of you!” His grin is full of joy as I hand him the present.

“I’ll open it at home, with my wife.” He takes his phone out from his back pocket. “Do you want to see some pictures of her?”

It’s a girl.

“Of course!” I smile as he opens his mobile and a picture of a beautiful baby girl appears on the screen.

“What’s her name?” I look at the picture of the tiny, sleeping baby.

“Ruth.”

“She’s lovely,” I enthuse. She is lovely and looks so peaceful.

“Funny you came especially for this,” he says, closes his phone and puts it back in his pocket.

“Why do you say that?” I continue walking through the gallery with him while he straightens a painting on the wall.

“I’m meeting your boss this evening. He could have brought it with him, though I suppose that’s not his style.”

He steps back from the painting to see if it’s straight.

He’s meeting my boss today? Which boss is he talking about?

“Who are you meeting?” I ask nonchalantly and pretend to be studying a painting on the wall.

“Ben Storm. We’re having supper together. We have some things to finalize.”

He’s meeting Ben?

“Where are you supposed to be meeting?” I carry on walking around the gallery as a sly and terrible idea pops into my head.

No, Talia, don’t you dare! Calm down immediately.

“At the Hawksmoor, Covent Garden. Your boss has expensive taste.”

I can’t help myself. Cunning plans call for forbidden actions sometimes, and I’m about to do just that right now.

“Didn’t Sharon call you?” I ask him in all seriousness.

Talia, you’re mental!

“Sharon?” he questions.

“Yes, Mr. Storm’s secretary.”

“Why should she have called?”

“Because Mr. Storm had unexpected family business to attend to and he had to go out of town yesterday. He went up north, I think…” I swallow hard and look at Gary inscrutably, checking to see if he’s bought the story.

Oh God. I’m crossing a line.

“I hope nothing’s wrong,” he says in concern.

“Me too. I’m sure Sharon will call you to arrange a new date,” I mumble, aware that the only one who is going to have to be dealt with is me, once Ben finds out what I’ve done, and then I’ll have to deal with his anger.

“Well, I must get going. Congratulations, again.” I smile slightly as my heart pounds.

I really am mental. What am I thinking?

I say goodbye to Gary, go outside, and sit on one of the benches in the shade. I light up a cigarette, pull out my phone, and dial.

“Hawksmoor Restaurant. How can I help you?” A woman’s voice is on the other end.

“Hello, this is Mr. Storm’s secretary. I just want to make sure you have a reservation under his name for this evening?”

“Yes, Madame, for two people at seven o’clock.”

“Seven o’clock. Thank you.” I turn off the phone, my level of manipulation surprising even myself.

It’s one thirty. I still have plenty of time. If I’m going to be meeting one angry man this evening, I had better wear something really nice. At least I’ll distract him with a gorgeous new dress. I can afford one, plus a pair of matching high heels at New Look. They aren’t expensive.

I’ve started working and I have money from the apartment at home. So what if I’ve spent some money in the past few days? It doesn’t mean a thing.

I know the only one I’m kidding is myself. I’m spending money because nothing concerns me right now. This is just another warning signal I’m ignoring, as I speed toward serious chaos.

I get off at Oxford Street, enter the huge shop, and take the stairs. I want an amazing dress, not just another cheap-looking one, of which they have hundreds here. This demands a serious quest.

Half an hour later, I step out of the dressing room, wearing an elegant, black dress. It’s a bodycon dress, the kind that clings to your body like a second skin. The fabric ends just above my knees. It wraps around me tightly, the cleavage going up in a straight line, connecting to one strap only, leaving my back exposed all the way to my waist. And it costs only fifty pounds. I feel great in it even though it’s very tight. Ben will love it. He has to love it. And now for shoes.

I saunter over to the shelves where I immediately see the perfect pair: impressive high heels with peep toes, covered entirely in burgundy lace, embedded with tiny, twinkling sequins, which create an amazing pattern. I try them on and take a few steps, just to test my balance in such high heels. They fit me perfectly and I definitely know how to walk in stilettos.

The evening has to be perfect, just as soon as I manage to appease Ben’s anger.

I pay at the till. Seventy pounds. Not too bad. He’s worth it.

Should I wait for him at the restaurant or go in after he arrives? The question has been playing in my head the entire afternoon. I stand in front of the mirror, dressed, putting on my makeup. How complicated can it be? I want my dress and new shoes to do the job. And that won’t happen if I arrive before he does and wait at the table. So I should get there after he does, not too long after, maybe just five minutes later. I hope he won’t be late. I could get there early, watch the restaurant from across the street, and go in after him.

Jeez, James Bond, calm down, will you?

I swear whoever designed this dress is a horny genius. There’s not a single curve that isn’t showcased—not that I have curves, only tiny protruding bones. But I’m thin enough to wear it and feel great in it. And the shoes…I’m pleased with them. I’m really pleased for a change.

At six thirty, I take my small black clutch and shove my phone into it. I’m not going to ruin my look by taking a bag with a ridiculous shoulder strap. I go out into the living room. Danny and John are sitting on the high stools around the black marble island. Danny almost chokes when he sees me.

“Whoa!” he splutters in surprise. His eyes open wide and a small smile appears on his face. “Where are you going dressed like that?”

“I have a meeting,” I answer unsmilingly, trying to give the impression that my meeting is purely work-related.

“Meeting-meeting, or I-have-a-hot-date-with-a-guy-I-really-like meeting?” He grins mischievously, staring at me inquisitively.

“A meeting,” I answer succinctly without providing any more details and take out my mobile to order a cab. I’m not taking the tube dressed like this.

“At least we can be sure it’ll be a success.” John looks amused by the entire situation.

“I’ll be back later. I don’t know what time so don’t worry about me,” I mention, looking in Danny’s direction, trying to calm down his natural inclination to worry about me.

“I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about whoever you’re going to meet dressed in that…in whatever it is you’ve chosen to wear.” He laughs.

“Is this a bad choice?” I panic from his reaction.

Maybe it doesn’t look as good as I thought it did? Oh no, the cab is almost here and I don’t have time to change my clothes.

“A bad choice?” He laughs loudly. “Talia, I don’t know what you’re planning on achieving tonight, but you’ll get it before even entering the room.” He shakes his head and I glance at John, needing his approval.

“Talia, you’re going to knock them dead.” He winks, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Okay. It’s successful.

If they knew whom I was going to meet and what I did to arrange it, there would be a plane waiting for me on the runway. The cab honks its horn outside, cutting off my chain of worried thoughts. I give them a final smile and go outside.

At five minutes to seven, I squeeze myself out of the cab in the crazy dress. I’m five minutes early. I hope he isn’t early as well. I have no choice but to find a good lookout spot.

I find a dark spot and hide, not taking my eyes off the restaurant’s entrance. Occasionally I glance over my shoulder, seriously hoping he’s not going to suddenly appear behind me. That would be embarrassing and lame and ruin the entire evening.

At exactly seven o’clock, I see a pair of familiar broad shoulders coming my way. He’s predictably prompt. My heart pounds with excitement. He walks briskly and disappears into the restaurant. I wait.

Let’s give him two minutes to get settled.

I have no way of knowing how he’ll react, and that makes me nervous. I can only imagine he’ll be surprised. Will he be angry? Upset? Will he laugh at my sly scheming? It’s time to find out.

I open the door of the restaurant with shaking hands and a smiling server checks me out.

“Mr. Storm?” I ask, and she points toward the corner of the restaurant.

“Should I escort you?”

“There’s no need. Thank you very much,” I stammer, trying to calm the beating of my heart. Here goes nothing!

The restaurant is softly lit and the smell of meat spreads throughout the round, wooden tables, set closely together. The place isn’t packed yet, but I assume that’ll change as the evening progresses. I make my way slowly to the table when a pair of surprised green eyes spot me.

Oh God.

I smile my most charming smile and continue walking until I reach the table. His stunned gaze checks me out in my tight dress and new high heels. He looks amazing, dressed in a dark suit with a white shirt and tie, the color of which I’m unable to figure out in the dim light of the restaurant. His short hair gleams and he’s clean-shaven. He looks gorgeous. I try to stay calm.

“Good evening.” I smile, trying to control my shaky voice. I need to give him another second to appreciate my fabulous dress.

“Talia.” He doesn’t hide the surprise in his voice and he’s still checking me out. Okay, I think he’s seen enough. Without giving it another thought, I pull out the chair opposite him and sit elegantly, putting my clutch on the table in front of me.

“Beautiful, I’m waiting for someone,” he apologizes with a smile.

Okay, stay calm. It’s too late now to do anything, so be as charming as possible and he won’t be able to resist you.

“Ah, yes, well, Gary won’t be coming this evening after all.” I pretend to be looking for something in my clutch.

“What do you mean?” He frowns and I look at him with a small, mischievous smile, pleading guilty.

“Talia!” He gets angry. “What have you done?”

“Me?” I feign innocence, unable to wipe the stupid grin off my face. He narrows his eyes. They’re smoldering. Okay, this isn’t good, but for some reason, even now, I have to make an effort not to giggle.

“Gary couldn’t make it this evening. Or maybe, it’s you who can’t meet him? I really don’t remember,” I say, still trying to hold back the giggle that’s trying to make its way out, even as I see how confused and angry he is. Does he know how amazing he is, even when he’s angry?

“What are you talking about?” he asks nervously, but I find the whole situation rather amusing—another sign of a celebration.

“Gary may be under the impression that you’re out of town.”

“What?” He’s furious now. Well, that was expected. After all, this time I went too far. It’s time to calm him down and get us both into a good mood.

“Listen, this is how things are. Gary’s not coming. He’s expecting a call from Sharon telling him when you can reschedule. I, on the other hand, am here and I’m dying for a glass of wine. So what are you ordering me?” I raise a cheeky eyebrow.

“Listen to me carefully, young lady. I have no problem if you want to play your little games, but the minute you start interfering with my work, you are crossing the line.” His expression is scary.

I haven’t seen that expression before and I don’t like it. I swallow hard.

“If you’re going to stay angry all evening, I can just leave now,” I mumble.

“Damn it, Talia, what am I supposed to do with you?” He rolls his eyes and sighs. For a moment, he seems a little less angry.

“You can tell me how amazing I look.” I cock my head and smile mischievously.

“I’m still trying to figure out how you can walk gracefully in that dress and those heels.” He smiles slightly. I can relax. I’ve overcome the obstacle, quite easily I might add. My mood improves in a flash and my thoughts become flirtatious again

“This dress and these shoes?” I ask innocently and, without a second thought, I lift my leg under the table, find his shin, and then lift it slowly between his legs all the way up to his thighs.

“What are you doing?” he rebukes me with a smile and closes his legs swiftly. “Talia, stop that.” Ugh, why does he spoil all the fun?

I lower my leg just as a young waiter approaches our table.

“What would you like to drink?” He smiles at Ben, who doesn’t answer immediately. For a second, I’m afraid he’s debating whether or not to stay.

“Libertà Collazzi,” he answers eventually and I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Merlot or Sauvignon?”

“Merlot.”

The waiter leaves the table and Ben looks at me seriously, without saying a word.

“Are you going to be like this the entire evening?” I murmur while the waiter pours us each a glass of red wine, puts the bottle on the table, and leaves.

“Like what?” Ben says grimly and takes a sip of wine.

“Like this. Unpleasant.” I look at him in frustration.

“I thought I was coming to a business meeting. I left my pleasant mood at home,” he grumbles again. Okay, where is this going?

“If I had known, I would have gone past and picked it up for you.”

“Talia, I’ve been waiting a long time for this meeting. And now, because of you, I have to reschedule. And that’s beside the fact that Gary thinks I forgot to let him know I’m out of town,” he reprimands me. I swallow hard. Okay, so I didn’t think the whole thing through and acted impulsively, as usual.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble an embarrassed and honest apology.

“You have to understand something—I take my business very seriously.”

“As opposed to me?”

“What do you mean ‘as opposed to you’?”

“As opposed to you not taking me seriously?”

“Who can take you seriously in that dress and those shoes?” he raises an eyebrow and smirks.

“Don’t you like them?” I stutter in panic. Danny and John said they were great.

“How can I not?”

“So then why can’t you take me seriously?” I’m confused. Is he trying to annoy me again? Because he’s heading in the right direction. He looks amused.

Is he laughing at me? Again?

“Talia, how can I concentrate on anything you have to say when you’re dressed like that?” He lowers his gaze and stares at me intently. My heart misses a beat. It’s totally illegal to cause my body to react in this way with only one look.

“Well, you can’t be cross with me either when I’m dressed this way.” I try—unsuccessfully—to smile and take a sip of my wine.

“No, I can’t be cross with you,” he agrees and sighs. Once again, I breathe a sigh of relief. At least he’s not furious anymore. But he’s very somber tonight. Well, what was I thinking, that my scheming would cause him to jump with joy?

“What did you want to talk to Gary about?” I’m not too sure this is the best line of conversation, seeing as I screwed up the meeting.

“About an exhibition in his gallery. I have a few questions.” He raises his hand dismissively, as if it’s not of any importance or interest. “Out of interest, when did you manage to cancel the meeting with him?” He takes a large sip of wine and looks for a waiter. He wants to order food. Shit! That issue again. I really didn’t think this through properly.

“I was at his gallery today.”

“What were you doing there?” He signals to one of the waiters and turns back to look at me.

“I dropped by to give him a present. His wife had a baby girl,” I answer. Ben lifts up the menu and blocks his face with it.

“What are you having?” he asks with a serious tone, then lowers the menu and stares at me. I look at him with troubled eyes. “You chose to be here and I’m not eating alone. So what are you having?” Come on, is he trying to punish me? I study the menu reluctantly and scan my options quickly.

Ugh, what am I supposed to eat?

“Have you decided?” He looks at me impatiently.

“I’ll have an English salad with herbs,” I say under my breath.

“What else?”

“Ben...”

“What else?” He’s adamant.

“A T-bone steak,” I grumble.

“So we’ll take the salad and one T-bone. Your smallest dish will be enough for the picky lady,” Ben says to the waiter. “And I’ll take the fillet with potatoes on the side.” We return the menus to the waiter. My mood is shitty. Now I’ll have to sit opposite Ben and eat like Miss Goody Two-Shoes, who’s getting what she deserves.

“So, young lady, what was so important, you had to cancel my meeting?” He takes a sip of wine and stares at me with his green eyes.

What was so important? Only those eyes that I’ve longed to see.

“Nothing,” I reply softly. I’m still considering what to do with my dish, which will be arriving shortly.

“Nothing? So you just decided to show up here for no apparent reason?”

“Aren’t you a good enough reason?” I mutter in embarrassment.

“Really, you just wanted to see me?” He smiles smugly and I feel my cheeks burning.

Wait a second. What’s going on here? I put on this stunning dress, wore my new high heels, and now I’m going to sit here like a shy little girl, mumbling and blushing? No, no, no. That’s definitely not going to happen. Somewhere deep inside me is my femme fatale, and I’d better find her. Quickly.

“I’m starting to regret that I even bothered.” I roll my eyes sarcastically.

“Regret what? That you got all dressed up for me and I’m not falling off my feet?” His smile is small and mean. Is he serious? Is that what he thinks? Well, he’s not so far off the mark.

“First of all, I got all dressed for me, so chill. And second, you’re sitting, so we can definitely assume you’re not falling off your feet. Let’s wait until you stand up, and then we’ll see.” I wave my hand dismissively.

“Me? Falling off my feet because of you?” He’s taken aback by my cool declaration.

“Who are you kidding? You’re crazy about me and you love my tricks, which is good because you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“Your confidence is awe-inspiring. Again, it’s a pity you don’t actually believe it.”

“Oh, I believe it. You have no idea what I have planned for you.” I grin as I think of my blog, filling up with ideas and offers.

“Why are you going through all this bother?” He grimaces.

Why do I bother? Really? Does he really have no idea what he does to me?

“I’m having a great time. Aren’t you?” I try to sound vague and uninterested.

“So it’s all just a game?” He furrows his perfect eyebrows.

“I don’t know what game you’re talking about. I thought we were friends.”

“Ah, the ‘friend’ thing,” he ponders aloud.

“What about the ‘friend’ thing?”

“I’m still not sure that it’s working.”

“What’s not to be sure about?” I roll my eyes. We kissed, and he did things to my body that excited and captivated me. And he doesn’t think that it’s working?

“I’m not sure we fit the definition. I doubt your brother would be happy to hear about us.” His expression, when he looks at me, is serious.

“I’m not interested in my brother right now.”

“What are you interested in?”

“You,” I answer, without a damn filter.

Really, Talia, get a goddamn grip.

“I interest you?”

“Of course. You also annoy me.” I shrug, trying to seem indifferent to his charms.

The waiter arrives with plates filled with food, and my heart drops.

On my plate, there’s a huge T-bone and a green salad. I stare at it horrified and take another sip of wine. No way I’m going to eat that entire steak, not even half of it. I look at Ben miserably, but he’s busy with his plate, cutting himself a huge piece of fillet. I cut a tiny piece of steak, put it in my mouth, and chew it slowly. I can’t even taste it. I’m just concentrating on chewing. Eating in front of him. What a terrible idea! The thought of all this food in my stomach is awful. I swallow and take another sip of wine. I cut another small piece. Ben looks up from his plate inquiringly.

“I can’t eat with you looking at me,” I hiss in frustration.

“Why not?”

“Why not?” I sigh. Hasn’t he figured it out already? If I recall correctly, I told him everything on the matter a moment before I left him in a rage at the café.

“Because of your problems?” he asks seriously. For a second there, I think I can detect some concern in his voice. Okay, now I’m being ridiculous. There’s no way he’s concerned about me.

“No, because of the weather. Of course it’s because of—” I clam up abruptly.

“Then I won’t look. Eat.” He looks down to his plate of food and I take another bite of steak. Three pieces. Four pieces. Five pieces. That’s it. I’m not doing this anymore. I put my knife and fork down.

“Is that all?” He looks up at me, dissatisfied.

“Say thank you and shut up,” I hiss under my breath.

“I heard that.”

“Good.”

“You’re angry.”

“I want to go home,” I mutter. If we leave now, there’s still a chance I can get some of the steak out of me.

“I know why you want to run away.” He fixes that intent stare on me again. He knows what I’m thinking. This evening is turning out to be total crap. I hate it when my plans don’t work out.

“If this is your definition of friends, I’ll pass,” I snap.

“I thought you liked it when I irritated you.” He tries to dredge up a smile.

“This isn’t irritating, it’s abuse.”

“I’m abusing you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what you think?”

“Yes, because that’s what you’re doing. You kiss me, then regret it. You flirt with me and in the same breath tell me nothing’s going to happen between us. You’re the one who’s playing games with me,” I answer angrily.

“At least this way the truth comes out,” he replies.

“What truth?”

“Talia, stop bullshitting me. You don’t want to be my friend.”

“At this very moment you’re right.” I’m annoyed.

“Stop pretending. I know it’s not what you want.”

“I want to go home,” I say quietly. I want to go home before this conversation gets out of hand.

“Why?” he persists, but I just want to leave.

“What do you care why? Take me home and then you’ll be free to flirt with one of your other secret admirers,” I retort angrily, looking for a waiter to save me from this situation and bring the bill.

“What are you talking about?” He gives a little chuckle.

What am I talking about? I’m talking about his group of fans.

“I know what you do. What am I? Another conquest to add to your little black book?”

“I don’t carry a little black book. Sorry to disappoint you.” He’s amused.

“I’m sure you have a thousand other girls like me.”

“Like you?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Like me, who you piss off all the time.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint, once again, but it’s only you I enjoy pissing off.”

“You’re a real asshole.”

“Stop saying that. I’m not an asshole. You’re the one acting like a little girl, refusing to talk to me.”

I’m refusing to talk to him? I told him all those things about me and he hasn’t told me a thing about himself!

“You’ve got some cheek, you know?” I continue irately. I’ve had enough of this evening. “I’m going home.”

“You’re running off again,” he says quietly, in a tone I don’t recognize.

“I’m not running off. I’m going outside to catch a cab.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll take you home, before you make a scene, which you’re very good at making.” His smile is mean, really mean, and mocking. At this very moment I actually hate him.

“I can take a cab,” I try to insist, but the way he stares at me keeps me glued to my chair.

“I’m taking you home and don’t argue. Please.”

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes in frustration. Now I’ll have to sit with him in the car all the way home. Ugh, will this evening never end?

Ben asks for the bill and pays it quickly. I surge to my feet angrily and, I swear, my stomach looks bloated from all the food I’ve consumed. I don’t wait for him as I make my way through the crowded chairs in the restaurant and outside into the cold, early June evening.

“What’s the matter with you?” Ben comes out right behind me, shaking his head. “When are you going to learn to leave the house with a coat?” He starts taking off his jacket, but I stop him.

“Don’t do me any favors,” I hiss, without looking at him.

“Don’t be so stubborn,” he tries to persuade me, but I am stubborn.

“Where’s your car?”

“Around the corner.” He starts to walk and I try to keep up with him in my heels. He turns the corner and takes his keys out of his pocket to open the car with the remote. Without waiting for him to open the door for me, I get in, close it, and fasten my seatbelt. He gets in and fastens his seatbelt.

“What do you feel like listening to?” he asks and changes songs on his fancy stereo.

“Nothing,” I say petulantly. Nothing, I just want him to take me home right away.

“Okay,” he replies quietly, chooses a song and, right away, I recognize Alanis Morissette’s ‘Uninvited’.

Why that song? I stare out the window. A terrible choking feeling envelops me with each passing note. Goddammit...

Large, salty tears choke me up and pour down my cheeks, silently and involuntarily. How embarrassing! I make a fist, my nails digging into my flesh. I try unsuccessfully to silence my crying and sniffling. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Ben taking out a tissue and passing it to me, without looking my way. I take the tissue and wipe my tears, which don’t stop falling.

“Talia, I never meant—” I can hear the confusion and concern in his voice.

“Take me home,” I cut him off, sobbing with terrible embarrassment, but I can’t help myself. This evening certainly didn’t go as planned. What good were the dress and heels if I’m sitting here, weeping my heart out miserably?

The car glides silently through the narrow streets. Ben is upset and confused and keeps giving me panicked looks. I stare out the window. There’s no way I can stop the crying. When we stop outside the house I get out of the car quickly and close the door behind me. I run down the driveway, and enter the house, and fall apart on my bedroom floor.

At eleven p.m. I sit up in bed. For the past few hours I’ve been lying here, cuddled up in my blanket and crying. I’m grateful Danny and John weren’t in the living room and didn’t see me like this. I have no idea what excuse I could have given them this time.

I finally get up and slip into the shower. The house is dark and silent. I remove my makeup and stand under the water. I let it wash over me for a long time, trying to stem the tears that insist on pouring down. What the hell happened this evening? I was supposed to go there, flirt with him, and make him laugh until he couldn’t resist me. Instead, I was tortured and forced to eat in front of him and squirm. And that mortifying display of tears in the car...I can’t believe myself. What was I thinking? He probably thinks—no, he’s probably convinced—I’m a total nutcase. He wanted mischievous and fun and got screwed-up and crazy. And now I’ve ruined it all.

I get out of the shower and wrap myself in a towel. Then I go into my bedroom and wear a large shirt and my favorite pair of sweatpants. I lie down on my bed and pull the laptop off the dresser. I’m just going to put on some music, lie here, and never go outside again. I can’t handle it, not the shame, or his tendency to irritate and hurt me. I can’t handle how much I miss him either.

My Facebook page is open. When did I leave it open? It must have been this morning. I forgot to log out. I have one new message. I open it and read, my eyes burning.

What the hell does he care?

Excellent. Don’t start with the explanations. He doesn’t need to know that you are far from okay.

Why does he insist on talking? What good will come out of it?

Cute. He immediately becomes cute.

I can’t ask him. It’s not supposed to be of interest to me. He was very clear about what he wants.

What?

I need to remember that I’m supposed to be outraged, and not melt every time he throws me a bone.

He’s the first to log out. It’s a quarter to twelve. I’m lying in bed and obviously can’t fall asleep. I can’t understand my mood. I’m confused. What does this guy do to me? What’s his fucking game? Does he want me? Does he not want me? Is it because of Danny? Is it because of Jenny? And what do I even want from him?

Twenty minutes past midnight. I’m still awake, lying with my eyes closed, unable to stop thinking about his muscular arms stroking me. I just want him, next to me, on top of me, inside of me. Even after this frustrating evening, I can’t get him out of my head.

I can’t think clearly, but there’s one thing I know—I want to see him.

I get out of bed, slip my feet into my flats, grab my bag with my keys, and throw my phone into it.

He can tell me to leave. He can tell me to get out of his life. I don’t care. I just want to see him now.

I walk swiftly down the empty pavement, It’s only two streets away. I hope I have the correct address. It will be really embarrassing if I don’t.