by LL Meyer
Jason breaks the silence first. “How many women do you think we’ve done together in the last ten years?”
I look over at him. There’s absolutely nothing sexual between us, but I suppose we’re closer than most guys.
“I don’t know. But I’m sure we could come up with a number if we really thought about it.” I frown for a moment when I realize just how true that is. The most memorable sex I’ve ever had has always involved Jason and a woman – I wonder if he feels the same.
“I stopped keeping track a few years ago,” he admits.
He pulls into the driveway of our house and switches off the ignition. Neither of us moves to get out.
“I’d say it’s probably a pretty big number,” I tell him finally. It’s amazing what whispering a few words in a woman’s ear will get you if you ask.
“Are you including Clary or Jacquie?”
I groan at the mention of them. What would Jason’s mom say if she knew we sometimes tied up and then fucked high-priced call girls in our basement?
“We really are whores,” I say simply. “She’s not going to like that.”
He doesn’t ask me who she is. “What? That you’re a manwhore, or that you want to share her with me?”
“I doubt there’d be any sharing.”
He shrugs. “We’ve been through dry spells in the past.”
“Do not even mention her name,” I grind out. Jason had been head over heels in love with a girl at twenty-one and I’d hated her guts.
He laughs, but I don’t. I remember being slowly cut from his life like a useless appendage, and it had sucked. I have no life separate from Jason. We do everything together: work, vacations, family life. Everything. We live together, for crying out loud. I promise myself that whatever happens, I’ll do my best to keep him in the loop if things move forward with this girl. The thought of her brings a smile to my lips. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, and she’ll be totally into it.”
Jason opens his door. “Don’t count those chickens, brother. She’s completely skittish.”
I follow him up to the house, deciding I need a very cold shower.
In the morning, I wake to the sun shining. Pulling a pillow over my head, I groan. I haven’t slept very much. Most of the night consisted of replaying everything that happened. I think the most astonishing part of the whole experience is that I had an actual conversation with a woman, a conversation that was interesting, and that we both participated in as equals. And it’s not that I think all women are bimbos, it’s just that I never bother with more than the exact right amount of superficial chitchat to get a girl into bed.
I reach for my phone off the nightstand to check the time. 8:42. Before I know what I’m doing, my fingers are punching my code and I’m calling her.
I’m so positive that she’ll let it go to voicemail that my mind draws a blank when I hear her scratchy “Hello?”
Crap! I woke her up.
“Hello?” She sounds more alert now and strangely nervous. Maybe because some weirdo is calling her from an unknown number.
“Hey.”
“Dane?”
“Yeah. Do I come off as needy and desperate for calling you this early?”
I hear the rustle of sheets as she settles back in her bed and my cock jumps like an eager dog.
She gives a breathy giggle. “Maybe.”
“Lily?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you let me take you out for breakfast?”
She goes quiet. I frown at the thought of her saying no.
“Dane, I don’t think –”
“I promise not to act needy or desperate,” I say like I’m dangling this amazing offer in front of her.
That makes her giggle again, but I can hear the strain underneath. How can she not want to go out with me?
“I get to pick the place,” I continue. “But I’ll pick you up. And I’ll pay. That’s a great deal. You should totally take it.”
She sighs. “Listen . . .”
Shit. Nothing good, in the history of the world, has ever been said following that word.
“Please, Pretty Girl?”
Her breath hitches in her throat, and I know I’ve got her.
“Okay,” she says slowly. “But on one condition . . . well, two.”
“Anything.”
“That it’s not a date and I pay for my half of the bill.”
Yeah, I don’t like either of those conditions, but I’m not about to argue. I’d probably have to beg again, and twice in one lifetime is way more than I can handle.
“Fine,” I grumble. “Pick you up in half an hour?”
“Half an hour?” she moans. “What should I wear?”
“I don’t know. Shorts?”
She laughs. “So, casual?”
The sound of her happiness puts a smile on my face. “I want you outside your house in half an hour in some kind of completely casual getup.”
“Yes, sir,” she says, still laughing.
“All right. Now we’re talking. See you soon.” Hanging up, I heave a sigh of relief. Have I ever come that close to rejection? I scoff at myself. I guess always going for the sure thing leads to overconfidence.
In the shower, I debate whether to get myself off or not. Having to hide boners from her doesn’t seem right after what happened last night; I can’t imagine that it would turn her on.
With hot water streaming down my back, I take hold of my cock. It’s not something I bother with on a regular basis, and now this will be twice in twelve hours. Fuck, begging and whacking off. I’m hitting some real lows here.
Maybe I am needy and desperate because it doesn’t take long to finish with images of her naked and writhing underneath me flitting through my head.
I get dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and slip my feet into flip-flops before I go downstairs to find Jason already up and making coffee.
He raises his eyebrows when he sees me. “Where are you going?”
“Breakfast with Lily.”
His eyebrows can’t possibly get any higher.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Don’t care.”
I pause in front of the board that holds all the car keys. “I’m taking the Audi,” I announce. “And I might be late, depending on how breakfast goes. Don’t wait up, Dad,” I call over my shoulder.
Sliding into the car, I check the clock on the dash. It’s been twenty-two minutes since I hung up with her, but I’m not worried about being late. Girls are never on time. It’s right up there with death and taxes.
I’m sitting on the little step of the front walkway near the street, with my knees drawn up to my chest, looking down at the old Birkenstocks I’m wearing. I could have worn a pair of strappy sandals out of Charmaine’s closet, but I don’t want to encourage this guy. In fact, everything I have on is an attempt to discourage him. From the cut-off jean shorts and my old gray hoodie, to the way my hair is pulled up into a simple high ponytail. I did break down and brush some mascara onto my lashes at the last second, but that was as far as the effort had gone.
It’s early, but the sun is already beating down on me. It feels good on my bare neck, as if it’s attempting to soothe the achy nervousness that’s running through my veins. What a bastard, I think grimly, calling me like that. Why couldn’t he just be a normal guy and blow me off? What if he’s persistent? But then I laugh to myself. It doesn’t matter; no one can survive Birkenstocks. I’m sure today will be the end of it.
The rumble of an engine pulling up to the curb draws my attention. I immediately bite down on my bottom lip to stop my jaw from falling open. He’s sitting behind the wheel of some insanely hot white sports car. The sunroof is open, so daylight is illuminating him in all his glory. If he was good-looking last night at the bar, in the daylight, he’s drop-dead gorgeous. His dark hair is still a bit wet and is just long enough that if I wanted to, I could run my fingers through it and give it a tug. I can’t see what color his eyes are from here, but who cares when his full lips are grin
ning at me in that devil-may-care way.
“Hey, Pretty Girl,” he says, practically caressing the words as they float through the open passenger side window.
Oh my God. I am in way over my head.
“Hey,” I manage to say as I slowly get to my feet and wipe my butt off. Grabbing my purse off the ground, I take a deep breath, trying to quell my racing heart. Why am I nervous? This isn’t a date, and I don’t want to impress him. Slightly calmed by the thought, I try to ignore the way his eyes rake down my body as I approach the car and get in.
“I thought you said thirty minutes,” I say lightly as I buckle my seatbelt.
I turn in time to see that I’ve made him a bit uncomfortable. He glances at the dash. “I’m like four minutes late,” he announces.
“Yeah, I know.”
My smile triggers one of his and I’m blown away. He’s so beautiful, and his eyes are dark chocolate brown.
“If I promise to be on time next time, will your forgive me?”
“Next time?” I scoff like that will never happen.
We pull up to the four-way stop at the corner, and he looks down at me with narrowed eyes. “Fine, then I’ll make it up to you now and pay for breakfast.”
I can’t look away from him. It’s like I’m drinking him down after being stranded in a desert for my whole life. “All right,” I hear myself say. “But it’s still a non-date.”
He chuckles. “Non-date it is.”
Thankfully, a car honks behind us, making him put his attention back on the road.
“Did Crazy make it home in one piece last night?” he asks me.
I groan. “She did. But then she kept me up all night with . . .” I feel myself start to blush. I really have to be more careful with what comes out of my mouth around him.
“With what?” he asks with mock innocence, making me laugh.
“With her very vocal attempts to reassure Josh of his virility.”
He laughs out loud. “You’re pretty funny, you know that?”
I cringe internally as I turn to the unkempt lawns of my rundown neighborhood. I’m supposed to be discouraging him. I have to make myself dull . . . like dishwater.
“Actually,” he says, interrupting my self-chastisement. “I didn’t get much sleep either.”
“Oh?”
“I met this new girl last night.”
I turn a sarcastic look on him that says really?
“I mean, you don’t mind if I talk about her. ‘Cause we’re friends, right?” His voice is playful and teasing. “So anyway, this girl last night? She’s really smart and completely beautiful in this way that blows my mind . . .”
I can feel the heat of my blush creeping up my neck in earnest.
“. . . and she’s tall – ”
“I’m not tall,” I spit out.
“Are you even listening? I’m telling you about this girl I met. And she is tall. And she blushes like crazy, which is really hot.”
I’m feeling completely overwhelmed by him and it’s starting to piss me off. “Stop teasing me. Please? I haven’t even had any coffee yet.”
He looks somewhat abashed as his eyes slide from my face back to the road. “Sorry.”
I need to change the subject. “Where are you taking me, anyway?”
“Not far.”
“Not far? That’s very specific.”
He just grins. Oh shit. Does he like my sarcasm? That’s going to be hard to turn off, I think glumly.
Soon he’s parallel parking his stupid, hot car in an area of town I’ve never been in. It seems to be more residential than the Denny’s in the strip mall that I was imagining.
We walk down the block in peaceful silence. He doesn’t try to touch me, but he’s close enough that I’m extra aware of his presence. He’s wearing these sexy black flip-flops that slap gently with every step and black cargo shorts that let me see his calves. And why does he have to be so tall? Turning my head, I see that I’m eye level with his shoulder. I could wear the heels that Charmaine had on last night and he’d still be taller than me. Not that it matters, because this is not a date. Although . . . he doesn’t go to U of O with me, so maybe if he wanted to take me out again, it might be okay. Last night had been really great. But then I steal another glance at him from the corner of my eye and I know I’m wrong. There’s got to be a reason a guy this good-looking is single. He’d obviously suck me up and spit me back out – probably in record time. No thanks.
We come around a corner and I see a small line in front of a hole-in-the-wall place that only serves breakfast.
He grins a bit sheepishly at me as we’re waiting. “I hope you like eggs ‘cause that’s the only thing on the menu.”
“Yeah, eggs are good,” I say, more than a little annoyed at how soft my voice sounds because this place is perfect. “As long as there’s coffee, I’m happy.”
It only takes a couple of minutes to be seated on the outdoor patio and for the coffee to come around.
“Hey, Dane,” the waitress says with a flirty smile. “Where’s your better half?”
She’s definitely way on the other side of forty, but she doesn’t seem to care that she’s old enough to be his mother as she waits expectantly for his answer.
“I left him at home today.”
She scrunches up her nose in discontent and sighs. “Make sure you bring him next time. You know how he’s the highlight of my week.” She carefully places the coffee pot on the table and pulls out her little pad. “The usual, Dane honey?”
“Yeah.”
She finally turns her attention to me, giving me a bit of a once-over. “How do you like your eggs, honey?”
“Sunnyside up.”
“All righty then.”
She moves on to her next table.
“She’s got a thing for Jason?” I ask.
Dane smiles. “He leaves her a hundred bucks whenever we come.”
I almost drop the little cream cup into my coffee. “As a tip?” I squeak.
“Yeah, she’s a single mom with four kids or something like that.”
As I’m stirring my coffee, I’m suddenly wondering about the car and hundred-dollar tips. “Dane?”
“Yeah?”
“How old are you?”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Twenty-seven. Why? Do you think I’m so old?”
“No, I was just wondering.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-two.”
He nods. “You go to school with Jenna, right? Are you graduating in a few weeks, too?”
“No,” I say a bit dejectedly. “Architecture is a five-year program, plus it’ll probably take me an extra year to finish, maybe more.”
He looks like he’s trying to puzzle out his next question, so I decide to throw him a bone by volunteering more information.
“I can never afford to go full-time, and grants and loans can be iffy.”
He’s surprised. “Your parents don’t pay?”
I shrug. “My mom always tries to give me some, but she can barely take care of herself. And the older I get, the worse I feel for taking her money.”
“What about your dad?”
“He can rot in hell for all I care.”
I can’t decipher the look on his face at my little announcement, but I won’t apologize. My dad’s a first class asshole.
“What about scholarships?”
I nod. “I pick them up here and there, but I don’t have a full ride if that’s what you’re asking.” I don’t tell him that a lot of them require campus and/or community engagement and leadership, and that at this point in my life, that’s not something I can offer. I give him a false smile. “So I work full-time and go to school part-time.”
The waitress comes back with our plates, plunking them down in front of us, along with the bill. Wow, that was fast.
“There you go, honeys. Enjoy.”
I look down and laugh at the amount of food on the plate. Eggs, hash browns, sausage, bacon, a
nd ham. “This could feed me for a week,” I joke as I pick up a strip of bacon and bite into it. After a bit of chewing, I say, “Mmmm, don’t you just love bacon?”
Meeting his eyes, I’m taken aback by the expression on his face. It’s hungry and lust-filled and it shoots straight between my thighs. My chewing stalls.
“Well, if I didn’t, I certainly do now,” he says as he tears his gaze from mine and picks up his fork.
We eat in silence for a minute before I force myself to say what’s on my mind.
“Dane?”
“Hmmm?”
“What are you doing with me?”
He swallows before he answers me with a sardonic look on his face. “Eating breakfast.”
“You know what I mean. All this . . .” I say, gesturing to him with my fork from his head to the table in a squiggly line. “Doesn’t usually even look at this.” I point the tines at my chest.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about with all this.” He gestures to me the same way I did to him.
“Don’t be obtuse.”
“Is it really so hard for you to believe that I like you?”
I don’t want to say it, because it’ll sound like I have disgustingly low self-esteem, but I need the truth. “Yeah, it is.”
“Well, I do. So, get over it.”
I lean forward, lowering my voice. “But I’m not going to sleep with you. You’re just wasting your time.”
He tilts his head. “You, Lily, are not a waste of time. And it annoys me more than a little that you think you are.”
I glare at him. “I didn’t say I was a waste of time.”
“Uh, yeah, you did.”
“Well, you know that’s not what I meant.”
“Listen to me, okay,” he says seriously, his eyes burning into mine. “I don’t want to listen to any more crap about you not being good enough for me. If you want to be friends for now, that’s fine. I can do that.” He starts to lean back and I let out the breath I was holding. “I’ll just have to hold off on putting my moves on you, that’s all.”
