by T. K. Leigh
I chew on my bottom lip, torn. On one hand, I don’t have anything to lose by agreeing. It could work, considering how jealous Trevor sounded just from the idea of me receiving flowers from another man. But on the other hand, there are too many variables, too many ways for this to turn from a strictly business relationship into something…more.
“It’s unwise to agree to this without ironing out all the details. Despite what you may think you know about me, I prefer when there’s a concrete plan.”
“I couldn’t agree more. I’ll make dinner reservations for seven o’clock tonight. Shall I pick you up from your place or the office?”
“Tonight?” I look to Chloe and Nora for guidance. Their eyes are bright with excitement over the prospect of me having dinner with a guy tonight.
Chloe mouths, My place, then winks.
“How about you tell me where and I’ll meet you there.”
“I had a feeling you’d be a challenge.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “If this is to work, we need to give off the appearance of being a real couple.”
“Real couples meet at restaurants all the time, especially in this city. I met Trevor constantly. In fact, I can’t remember the last time we went out when I didn’t meet him there.” The second the words leave my mouth, a pang squeezes my heart.
“And that’s precisely why I’ll always pick you up for every single one of our outings,” he responds, not allowing me to dwell too long on my realization. I wonder if he knows this. “No exceptions. So, again, your place or the office?”
“How about my friend Chloe’s?”
“Is there a reason you don’t want me to pick you up at your place?”
“I moved out.”
“Good girl.” The way he caresses those two words forces me to squeeze my legs together, an ache building as my overactive imagination goes to places it shouldn’t, not when I’m still supposed to be pining for Trevor. “Program this number into your phone. Let me know when you’re ready.”
“Hold on.” Jumping off the bench, I head into the bathroom, wanting some privacy. I put him on speaker, then switch to my contacts. “Ready.”
He rattles off his number and I input his information into my phone. “That’s my cell. Text me her address.”
“I will.” I save his number and take him off speaker, bringing my phone back up to my ear.
“No. Right now.”
I groan. “Seriously? Been stood up too many times?” I open the door, stepping back into the living room, only to be met by my friends’ scowls.
“Never, but you’re different from the usual women I find in my company.”
“Fine.” Continuing past Chloe and Nora, I pull the phone away and switch to the message app. After typing out a quick text with Chloe’s address, I hit send, then return my cell to my ear. “Is that a good or bad thing?”
“Only time with tell.” I hear the ping of an incoming message in the background. When he speaks again, his tone is low, almost seductive. “I’ll see you at seven, Evie.”
“I look forward to it.” I stare blankly ahead, about to hang up when I think of something. “Julian, wait!”
“Yes?”
“What’s your last name?”
“My last name?”
“Yeah. In case you turn out to be a serial killer, I’d like Chloe and Nora to know the full name of the man I was last seen with. That way, the police have a head start on tracking down my body to some old, abandoned warehouse in Jersey City you’ve re-purposed as a kill room.”
“Dammit. You’ve figured me out.”
I laugh, a lightness in my chest at how effortless it is to joke with him. I almost don’t want to hang up.
“Gage,” he says finally. “My last name is Gage.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he says.
It’s silent for a moment. Then I blurt out, “Guinevere.”
“Excuse me?”
“My real name’s Guinevere. That’s why you couldn’t find me online. Evie’s a nickname. I had trouble pronouncing my name when I was a little girl and called myself Evie. It just kind of stuck.”
“Guinevere… I like that.” He pauses, then says, “See you in a few hours, Guinevere.”
Chapter Eleven
“What the hell is going on?” Chloe asks once the line goes silent. I clutch the phone for a moment longer while I attempt to recover my composure enough to face my friends.
“And who is Julian?” Nora teases.
I turn around, meeting their curious eyes, at a loss for words.
“Based on your conversation, he sent you flowers, which made Trevor jealous, and now you’re going to dinner with him. Who is he and where did you meet?” Chloe presses.
I worry my bottom lip, rubbing my hands along my jeans. What do I tell them? What can I tell them? If I’m supposed to pretend to date Julian, won’t we have to keep up appearances? But this is Chloe and Nora, my two best friends. We’re the three amigas. Three musketeers. Sisters from another mister. Am I expected to keep up the charade in front of everyone?
“Okay.” I blow out a long breath. “But you can not tell a soul. No one else can know about this.” I narrow my gaze on Chloe, my stare harsh, trying to relay the severity of the situation. “This is so far off the record, it would be akin to career suicide if you were to print it.”
“You have my word.” Her light eyes are bright and filled with all the sincerity I’ve come to expect from her, especially when discussing private matters. There are few people I believe when they make me a promise. Chloe’s one of them. “This will stay between us. No one else.”
Secure in her assurance, I walk to the couch and sit down. Chloe and Nora follow, sitting next to each other on the opposite end. Once they’re situated, I face them.
“I spent yesterday morning in the Steam Room, like I have been all week.”
“Yeah, I know,” Chloe says.
“What you don’t know is that as I was trying to figure out who August Laurent is, Mr. Armani Suit came in.”
“Shut up!” Nora playfully jabs me. “He did not! What are the chances?” She bounces with excitement.
Ever since I’d shared the story of waking up in a strange man’s bed and struggling to remember what happened, she made it her mission to get to the bottom of who he was. She’d even asked Aiden, the bartender, if he knew, to no avail.
“Apparently pretty good.” I roll my eyes, feigning annoyance with the idea of seeing the man I swore I had no desire to cross paths with again.
“What did you do?” Chloe inquires, not as excitable as Nora.
“I did what any self-respecting thirty-year-old woman in my shoes would do when facing a man whose bed she woke up in after a night of drinking.”
“You tried to hide, didn’t you?”
“Do you blame me? I hoped to never see the guy again. So I did my best to act disinterested, although… Holy hell, girls.” Warmth radiates through me as I melt into the couch, unable to contain my smile. “On a scale of ten, this guy is, like, a solid eleven. He was even hotter than I remember. Usually, it’s the other way around. And bonus, I learned his name is Julian, so there’s that.”
“What did he say?”
I stare into space, recalling our conversation in the coffee house. One thing stands out above all others. “He wanted to know why I left without saying goodbye. He appeared genuinely upset by it.”
“Aww…,” Nora and Chloe say in unison, passing each other an endearing look.
“No. Not aww. This is not an aww moment.”
“It is,” Chloe insists.
“No.”
“It’s destiny, Evie!” Nora beams as she clutches my hand, squeezing. “You get wasted and sleep with who I can only imagine to be God’s gift to the male form, can’t remember a thing, then cross paths with him two weeks later. I’m not sure the odds of something like that happening, especially in a city the size of New York, but it’s got to be unheard of!”
“It�
��s not destiny.” I brush off the idea, even though I’d briefly considered it. “And…” I trail off.
“And…what?” Chloe leans in, clinging to my every word.
I expect them to break out the popcorn as they take in the story I’ve kept from them for twenty-four hours. I’m not sure why I thought I could keep it from them forever. Maybe because I assumed yesterday was the last time I’d see Julian. Boy, was I wrong. Maybe it is destiny.
Returning my attention to them, I admit, “You were right.”
“Right?” Confused, Chloe’s brows pull in.
“We didn’t sleep together.”
“I knew it!” She pumps her fist in the air. “I mean, who in their right mind would have the wherewithal to put her bra back on after having sexy times? Hell, what woman would fall asleep with her bra on in the first place, unless they were completely incapable of taking it off? And there’s no way he wouldn’t take it off to get a look at those girls.” With a laugh, she gestures to my chest. “You have fantastic boobs.”
“Thank…you?”
“Start at the beginning,” Nora orders. “And don’t leave out a single detail.”
With a grin, I run them through yesterday’s unexpected events. Seeing Julian and learning his name. Dismissing him so I could work on finding August Laurent. Being unable to focus after our encounter. Running into Trevor with another woman as I left the coffee shop. Bumping into Julian again. Him telling me what happened the night of my birthday, then proposing a little arrangement.
“An arrangement?” Chloe waggles her brows deviously.
“Like a friends with benefits thing?” Nora smirks. “No strings, but you still get treated to a rocking orgasm when needed? Trust me. Those are a lot of fun.” She looks to Chloe, who nods in agreement.
“No… Well, I don’t think so. We still have to iron out the details, but if I agree to be his date to a bunch of stuffy dinner parties and events he has coming up, he’ll help me win back Trevor. I turned him down, claiming Trevor was too smart to believe I’d be dating someone like Julian, especially so soon after our own breakup, but then…”
“Julian sent flowers to you at Trevor’s while he was conveniently present,” Chloe sings, filling in the blanks.
“Exactly.”
“And it made him jealous.”
“Sure did.”
“So Julian wanted to prove you were wrong about Trevor being too smart. Now you’re considering his proposal.”
“You hit the nail on the head. But I haven’t agreed yet. I still have my doubts—”
“Despite the fact that Trevor was jealous after only a bouquet of flowers?” Chloe tilts her head at me. “Imagine if he caught you guys doing it? He’d come crawling back to you in a flash.”
“I don’t know about that. Even if he is jealous, there’s no guarantee it’ll make him want to be with me.”
Chloe and Nora share a look, shrugging.
“The reason Trevor broke up with me is because he doesn’t think I’m serious. Lying to him and pretending to date someone else?” I grab one of Chloe’s colorful throw pillows and hug it to my body. “That will most likely only solidify his original opinion.”
Squinting, Nora considers my words for a moment. “Then why didn’t you tell Trevor you weren’t dating Julian? And why didn’t you refuse to meet Julian for dinner tonight?”
I stare forward, shaking my head as I give the only answer that seems fitting. “I couldn’t say no to him.”
Chloe jumps to her feet, tugging me off the couch and into the den, which has become my bedroom, Nora following close on our heels. “Well, what are you going to wear?” She proceeds toward a hanging rack, shifting through all my clothes.
“I have no idea. I don’t even know where he’s taking me tonight.” I plop down onto the bed.
“Ask him.” She nods at my hand, which still clutches my cell.
“What? I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can,” Nora encourages.
“Then he’ll think I’m excited about tonight, and I can’t be excited about tonight. It’s strictly a business dinner. A glorified negotiation, so to speak.”
With a groan, Chloe steps toward me, taking the phone from my hand. “Then I’ll text him. While I’m at it, I’ll ask him what kind of panties he prefers. Briefs, thongs, or commando. Ya know… So you can dress appropriately…in all respects.”
My reflexes have never been so quick as I rip my cell out of Chloe’s hands. “Fine. I’ll text him.” I open my messages to see he responded to the one I’d sent with her address.
The Village? My mother always warned me about dating a village girl.
A smile builds on my face as I respond.
Well then, it’s a good thing I’m a Nebraska girl. Is there a dress code for dinner?
She warned me about Midwest girls, too. And wear something nice. A dress. Nothing too formal, but nothing too casual, either.
What will you be wearing?
Are you sexting with me?
I blush at his comment, drawing a blank as I try to come up with a witty response. Normally, I’d have an entire arsenal of possibilities. But something about Julian unnerves me, like I’m not myself.
If I were sexting, you’d be squirming in your seat, itching to drive over here and see me. I’m simply asking as a point of reference. And so I don’t pick out the same Brooks Brothers’ suit. It’s happened before, and it was the embarrassment of the century. So I made Trevor go home and change.
Chloe bursts out laughing. I glance over my shoulder to see her and Nora peering at the screen.
“You’re horrible,” Nora comments.
“Everyone uses comedy in awkward situations.”
“But you use it in all situations.”
“What can I say? I live an awkward life.”
When my phone buzzes, we all fling our eyes back to the screen.
Oh, Guinevere. I do enjoy your wit. No need to worry about us wearing the same Brooks Brothers suit. I don’t own any. Most of mine are Tom Ford, which I’ll be wearing tonight. I think slate gray. I’ll see you at seven.
I’m about to type a response when Nora snatches the phone from me. “Don’t.”
“What? Why?”
She blows out a breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’ve been out of the dating world for too long.”
“No, I haven’t,” I protest. “I’ve been working in it for years.”
“Working in it and living it are two different things.” Chloe gives me a knowing look.
“I—”
“You need to make him want you.”
I stand up from the bed, heading to my rack of clothes to find something suitable for tonight. “This isn’t a real relationship. It’s not even a relationship. Plus, I haven’t agreed to his proposal yet. I’m not sure I want to. Using someone to make Trevor jealous? It’s definitely a bit juvenile, if you ask me.”
“Fuck Trevor,” Chloe interjects harshly. “Don’t do this for Trevor. Do this for you. Have some fun this summer instead of moping around with a broken heart. And maybe this Julian is just the person to help you do that and get over Trevor.”
“I doubt that.” I stare ahead, avoiding her eyes. “We have absolutely no interest in each other.”
Nora stands, walking toward me. “I find that hard to believe. For both of you. You blushed the entire time you spoke to him. And Julian? He digs you. Mentioning sexting? He’s flirting with you. I told you not to respond to his text because he wants you to. By leaving him hanging, you’ll have him thinking about you all afternoon until he sees you tonight. He’ll be so on edge, he won’t be able to contain himself.”
I pull a yellow polka-dot dress from the rack, holding it up to my body. It’s a fun, flirty, summer dress, reminiscent of a pinup girl style. Both my friends simultaneously shake their heads, grimacing. I groan. I want to go for something that screams just friends. I have a feeling they want me to wear something that makes me look like a temptress.
>
“Like I told you…,” I begin with a sigh.
“Yeah, yeah. It isn’t real.” Nora does her best imitation of my voice.
“It’s not.
“Trust me.” She narrows her gaze on me. “He’s into you. If he weren’t, he would never have proposed this arrangement. I have a knack for picking up on these things. It’s, like, my superpower or something.”
I scoff, averting my gaze so my friends can’t see the twinge of hope building over the idea of someone like Julian Gage being interested in me. He’s so mature, so mysterious, so…sophisticated.
“In fact, I can prove it to you.” She jumps up, shifting through my dresses.
“How?” I place a hand on my hip, arching my brows.
“I guarantee, before we’ve all agreed on a dress for you to wear tonight, he’ll text again. He’s probably staring at his phone, waiting for you to respond. Eventually, it’ll be too much, so he’ll message you something he hopes you won’t be able to ignore. But you’ll do just that. When you see him tonight, you’ll have the upper hand. You’ll be the one in control.”
She returns her attention to my clothes, stopping to look at a few dresses before moving on. I’m about to argue, yet again, that her experience on Tinder doesn’t make her a dating expert when a loud chiming rips through the quiet space.
We stop moving, all eyes zeroing in on the phone on the bed. Nora faces me, wearing a self-satisfied smirk. She crosses her arms over her chest.
“Did someone text you, Guinevere?”
My mouth growing dry, I slowly walk toward the bed and grab the phone. “Sorcery,” I murmur as I unlock the screen.
“Who’s it from?” she asks in faux curiosity.
“Julian.”
