by Marie James
W45PN357: How about coffee tomorrow?
RachNRoss4Eva: Sure
I tilt my head to the side and rub my eyes.
W45PN357: Really?
RachNRoss4Eva: Yes.
I may have lifted my hands in the air and pumped my fist before responding again.
W45PN357: St. Louis Bistro? 3 pm?
RachNRoss4Eva: Sounds good. I’ll be the girl with purple hair.
I almost mention meeting a girl with purple hair to break the ice and hint that I’m the guy from earlier, but I don’t. Mainly because I tripped and looked like a fucking idiot.
I’ve been asking, but I don’t think I ever planned on her saying yes. Now my heart is racing and for the first time in my life, I’m worried about fucking wardrobe choices.
Chapter 10
Whitney
The knock on the door comes at the most inopportune time, but I’m waiting on a delivery, so I put down the makeup brush and go to open it.
I squeal when I look through the peephole, not finding the UPS man there, but my best friend instead.
She squeals too when I throw open the door and toss my entire being at her. We hold each other, jumping up and down like idiots.
“What are you doing here?” I take a step back but keep my hands on her arms. We only see each other about twice a year. I make a trip there and she makes one here, but this year has been nuts for her and she wasn’t able to make it three months ago.
“You were afraid you were going to be murdered. When you told me you finally accepted coffee last night, I had to come make sure you don’t die.”
“You’re here!”
“I’m here!” She holds her hands out to her sides. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
“Wearing?” I look down at my jean shorts and tank top. “For what?”
“Your date. You can’t wear that. You look homeless.”
“I’m not going on a date. You’re here!”
“I’m here because you’re going on a date. Now move because we have a lot of work to do and you’re already going to be late.”
Sarah shoves past me, tugging her rolling suitcase behind her.
“I can reschedule with him.” If I’m being honest, I’ve been freaking out and trying to think of a good enough excuse to cancel, anyway. With her here, and us having so much to catch up on, it’s the perfect excuse.
“You are not canceling. Now to the bathroom. If you’re going to try blue eyeshadow, you have to do it right. This eighties mess you have going on will scare him away.”
It takes twenty minutes, a dozen pep talks, and the threat of telling building management about Simon before I agree to continue with my plans today.
“I’ll walk in first and get a vibe for the place. If I see any nerdy creepers hanging around, I’ll shoot you an abort text,” Sarah assures me as we climb on the elevator. “And quit gripping your dress like that. You’re going to wrinkle it.”
“Not my dress,” I mumble.
Of course my best friend showed up prepared for my lacking wardrobe with different dresses for me to try on. And of course, each one was more risqué than the one before it. I argued that it’s mid-afternoon and we weren’t going to a club or finding a street corner to stand on, but she wouldn’t listen to any of it. Apparently, dresses are for all times of the day and all occasions.
I grow even more nervous on the short walk to the small café. It’s literally on the same block as my building, but I’ve never been down here.
“Give me two minutes,” Sarah says with a quick pat on my arm. She disappears inside before I can argue and change my mind.
I stand near the wall so long, I expect her to come back out looking for me, but I get a text instead.
Sarah: There are a few guys in here, but there’s one I’m hoping isn’t here for you.
Me: He’s creepy and nerdy?
Sarah: More like fucking hot and yummy.
Me: What would Monroe think if he heard you talking that way?
I honestly know what her bi-sexual boyfriend would say. Probably something along the lines of dibs.
See, my best friend Sarah lives a very sexually free life. I met her online, but I didn’t meet her while gaming. She was a forum leader on a website for people with different tastes. I’ve been able to explore many different parts of myself because of her. Because of her, I know I can appreciate a woman’s body, but I’m not sexually attracted to the same sex. I know I like things a little on the wild side even though I haven’t practiced any of that stuff recently. I know I like it when a guy—
Sarah: Get in here or I’m grabbing this one for myself!
I move on instinct. Did I forget to mention Sarah is a Domme?
I chuckle at the idea of obeying her. Submission isn’t really my kink, but hey, it takes all kinds for the world to spin around, right?
I laser focus on the front counter. I told him about my hair, and he gave me nothing, which means he has to approach me, not the other way around. I can see Sarah out of my periphery, but I don’t look at her directly. Jesus, how embarrassing would it be if this guy saw me walk in and decided to slip out the back? My ego would take a massive hit if that happened, especially after weeks of incessant begging to meet up.
“When you mentioned purple hair, I was hoping it was you. My fingers have been crossed all day.”
I spin around to face the man speaking to me and nearly show my hand by squealing as much as I did when I spotted Sarah through my peephole earlier.
“Y-you’re Wasp?”
He nods, his perfect teeth digging into his bottom lip. It draws nearly all of my focus.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“Huh?”
I flirted with this guy yesterday. That interaction on the elevator made me want to get out and live more. That interaction was why I told Wasp I’d finally meet him, and now I’m standing here like someone who just had a lobotomy.
“A drink? Coffee? Tea? Soda? Maybe a sandwich? They have an excellent pita here.”
“Tea,” I hiss out, feeling like a fool. “Iced green tea.”
I reach for my wallet, but he presses his palm to the top of my arm. “Find us a seat. I got this.”
I turn around, my back to him and look around for Sarah. She’s wide-eyed and grinning when my eyes land on her.
He’s so fucking hot, she mouths.
Is this my life right now? I mouth back.
There are several empty tables available, and I choose the one close to another couple because others seem to be working away on laptops, and I don’t want to bother them while they’re working. Besides, I know some people come to coffee shops to listen to gossip, and the very last thing I need is for my story to end up in some book.
“I can’t believe it’s actually you,” I tell him when he approaches with both of our drinks.
“I’m a little stunned myself.”
“Can I be honest?”
“This never goes well.”
I dip my head, wrapping my lips around my straw, pulling a long sip into my mouth before looking back up at him.
“I was feeling guilty for flirting with you last night.”
“Online or in the elevator?”
I can feel my cheeks heat. “Both.”
“You didn’t have to tell me that.”
“I think honesty is always the right choice.”
“Honesty?” He mulls that over a little, his eyes staying on mine as he also takes a sip of some clear liquid over ice. “Always a good policy.”
He doesn’t seem offended when he could’ve easily been annoyed for me bringing up the fact that I was flirting with what I thought were two different men.
“I feel like I already know you, but we just met.”
“It’s weird isn’t it?” I ask. “This is unreal. We live in the same building.”
“We’ve both smuggled pets into our apartments.”
“I would move if they discovered Simon.”
“You just have
to pay the front desk people to keep their mouths shut.”
I sigh, never having thought of that.
“I miss Adrian,” we both say at the same time, laughing when we realize what just happened.
“He was great,” I tell him, keeping my mouth closed about Tori, the new girl. The last thing I want to do is sound petty in front of him. Besides, maybe she was having a bad day. “Can I ask you something?”
“Ask me anything.”
“Anything? Because you may actually regret that.”
He grins, and I could stare at his pretty eyes all damn day and never get bored.
“Anything.”
“Why WASP NEST? You work in computers so you must know at least some things about him.”
“I know everything about him.” He takes another long sip, his eyes still focused on mine. “His favorite color is orange, but don’t tell his nana because she has thought it’s blue for the last twenty years. He didn’t go to college despite the rumors floating around online. He still has a full-time job that he loves most of the time, and Sprite is his favorite drink of choice.”
My eyes dart down to the clear liquid swimming in ice before darting back up to his. They sparkle, shining with mischief.
“No,” I gasp, but I can tell by the look on his face that he’s being honest. “Really?”
“Can I trust you with my secret?”
“Yes,” I pant, falling in love and resisting the urge to fangirl all at the same time.
His phone buzzes on the table several times before he decides to pick it up. I keep my eyes on him no matter how curious I am about who’s blowing up his phone.
“Damn it,” he mutters, looking down at the device. “I have to go.”
Disappointment surrounds me. I could stay here all day talking to him.
“Okay.”
“Can I walk you back?”
“Sure.” Since I know we live in the same apartment building, I don’t find the request weird.
He’s the real Wasp Nest, the guy I’ve been getting to know with daily interactions for the last month and feel completely comfortable with him. I can’t remember the last time I met someone and wasn’t swarmed with suspicion, talking myself out of letting someone get close to me because I was afraid of being used or manipulated. I don’t know what to do with the suddenly free sensations it’s causing.
As we stand, my eyes dart in the direction of Sarah, but I find she’s already gone. She must’ve gotten the same vibe off of him and left. I’m grateful for the short moments of privacy her absence is offering.
“She left about ten minutes ago,” he whispers as we press closer together to exit the bistro.
“Hmm?” I’m unable to concentrate on his words because his scent is so damn appealing. What is it about guys that smell so good?
“Your friend. She left ten minutes ago.” My brow draws closer. Sarah entered the bistro minutes before I did. How did he kn— “I’m very observant.”
His wink is devastating, a weapon, something I long to see over and over.
Without hesitation, he takes my hand as we make our way back to our building. I want to invite him up, but that would be rude since I now have a guest. Plus, he received a text and needs to be somewhere else.
“What’s your real name?” I blurt as he positions himself nearest the street.
“Wren. Wren Nelson.”
I stop, my feet refusing to move right there on the sidewalk in the middle of St. Louis. “Impossible.”
Turning to face me, his eyes dart to my lips before looking back up. The tingle the small action elicits is sigh-inducing.
“Rach?”
The lump forming in my throat refuses to dislodge no matter how many times I swallow.
“In apartment 1213?”
A small smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “Are you stalking me?”
If he only knew the truth.
“I get deliveries for you sometimes.” He stiffens as if I’ve revealed some deep dark secret. “Or rather the front desk tries to give me your packages. I’d never take anything of yours. That’s illegal.”
“Why would they—”
“My real name isn’t Rachel. It’s Whitney Nelson, and I’m in apartment 913.”
“That’s a beautiful name.”
“This doesn’t seem all too coincidental?”
He shakes his head, his eyes once again dropping to my lips. “Kismet maybe?”
He takes my hand, and I’m all for the moment we’re about to share, but he urges me to start moving again. Once I’m walking, he doesn’t pull his hand away. It’s warm in mine but not sweaty or uncomfortable, and that’s new for me too.
I’m feeling overwhelmed in the best way possible by the time we make it to the elevator.
He presses the call button with his free hand, using the movement as an opportunity to step even closer to me. I can hear his breathing, and I’m able to tell it’s just as ragged as mine.
“May I kiss you?” His eyes sparkle with need, and I could pull his question apart, break it down and analyze every syllable.
“Consent is so sexy,” I mutter instead, closing the few inches left between our mouths.
We don’t get filthy. There isn’t even any tongue involved, but I feel the warm, soft press of his mouth over every single inch of my body.
Wow. I’ve been missing out.
The elevator dings, urging us apart, but he presses his lips to mine once more, choosing to nuzzle the side of my neck for a brief second before pulling an inch or so back.
“See you soon, Whitney Nelson.”
As I walk off the elevator, I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling like a total fool.
I get one final wink from him before the elevator door closes.
Chapter 11
Wren
“Did you hack the White House or something?” Brooks asks when I walk into the BBS office.
I huff a laugh. “I only do that on Wednesdays.”
He chuckles, but my smile must be contagious because it’s reflected on his own face.
“What’s so urgent?”
He blinks at me as if he didn’t just text me ten times to come back to the office with no further explanation than my expertise is needed.
“We were supposed to do lunch today.”
My jaw clenches. “Lunch?”
“Yeah,” he shrugs. “It’s my day.”
I don’t say a word to him. I’m not a violent man, but I may need to hone that skill today.
“You don’t need me to work on something?”
“Other than your flirting skills? No.”
Yep. His chances of being murdered are increasing with every word that comes out of his mouth.
With a quick look around the room, I see that Jude is the only other person in sight. This doesn’t bode well for me, considering he’s our medic and would probably be able to save Brooks from any real damage I’d like to do to him.
“I was busy,” I grind out through clenched teeth. “With Whitney.”
“What?” His head snaps back like I’ve clocked him in the jaw. “Why would you leave her to come back here?”
“We were having coffee,” I explain, even though I don’t owe him a damn thing.
“What’s going on?” Flynn asks as he makes his way from the hallway where his office is. “Why do you look like you’re about to commit murder?”
“Because I am,” I answer without pulling my eyes from Brooks.
“He came back to the office instead of continuing his date with Whitney.” Brooks still sounds confused.
“The twelve-inch dick girl?” I growl at Jude as he stands and walks closer.
“She’s more than a box of sex toys,” I seethe at all of them when I see each of them smiling back at me.
That fucking box. It’s the catalyst for everything that is happening between Whitney and me, and it’s also the bane of my existence. She was adamant that she’d never take any of my things, and I’m pretty cert
ain that if she did end up with something of mine, she’d bring it to me, whether we had met or not.
I think honesty is always the right choice.
She’d said those words mere moments after introducing ourselves.
I had the opportunity to tell her then but losing her isn’t an option. So long as that box in my closet stays hidden for the rest of eternity, I’ll be fine. Maybe in a couple years after we get married—should be an easy task to sell considering she doesn’t even have to change her last name—I can tell her and we’ll laugh about it, add the story to something we’ll tell our kids. When they’re grown of course.
“He’s half in love with her already,” Flynn observes. “See that faraway look in his eyes?”
“What did she say when you gave her the box?” Brooks asks, the hint of deviance in his eyes making it clear he knows I haven’t returned it.
“He hasn’t,” Flynn responds before I can make up a story and lie.
“Deacon said he did,” Jude interjects.
“Really?” My head snaps in his direction. “Do you guys have nothing better to do than just sit around and talk about my life?”
They all shrug, so in sync, I’d argue it was a choreographed move.
“You have to tell her,” Flynn argues. “Secrets like that have the potential to ruin everything.”
Don’t I know it.
But it’s already too late, right?
I was literally holding the box in my arms yesterday. I had the opportunity to follow her off the elevator on the ninth floor and down the hallway to her door. Maybe she would’ve laughed and we could’ve gotten to know each other during the conversation while I explained how I ended up with the box. After her disclosing today that sometimes they try to give her my boxes, it would’ve all worked out. She finds me attractive. I could see it in her eyes when she turned around in the bistro earlier. She wasn’t disappointed that the guy she’s been getting to know online is the same guy that has the foul-mouthed parrot.
But that’s a whole other set of lies, isn’t it?
I’ve well and truly fucked myself around every corner where she’s involved.
Instead of heading straight to her apartment to return her things the day the mistake was discovered, I’ve manipulated her into friendship, under false pretenses I might add, because Orc’s Realm isn’t a hard game to figure out. I’ve invaded her privacy and watched hours and hours of video of her working out, getting deliveries to her apartment door, and watching her check her mail.
