by T. Torrest
Not exactly the type of conversation I had in mind for this assignment, but it was a start.
They moved over to pinball, and I was just about to step in and remind her that tonight wasn’t about befriending ten year olds.
Finally, a better prospect took over the machine next to her. Mid-twenties. Decent-looking guy, but not too handsome that he’d be unapproachable. I mean, he had a fucking ponytail, for godsakes.
Perfect target.
I kept waiting for Ainsley to talk to him, but she and her new little friend were too tied up in their competition for her to notice. After Ponytail gave up and moved on, I went over to have a little chat. We were down at the half, and it looked as though my team was going to need a little pep talk from the coach if we wanted to win.
“Ainsley.”
She didn’t look up from the machine and simply replied, “Hey Luke!” The lights pinged as she sent her ball soaring up a ramp. “Oh, Luke. This is Kyle.”
Kyle gave a half-hearted nod in my direction. “Whatsup, man?”
“Not much, man,” I said back, trying not to laugh in the kid’s face. I put a hand at Ainsley’s back and asked, “You ready to take a break?”
“Yes. In a minute.” She bit her lip and continued with her game.
“Okay. When you’re through, come meet me at our booth. Our food is probably waiting for us.”
It was only a few minutes later that Ainsley slid into her seat, an elated expression on her face.
“What?” I asked.
Her smile grew even wider as she held up a handful of tickets. “Look how many I won!”
She was so happy and excited, there was nothing to do but laugh. “That’s great, Ains. But it’s not really why we’re here, right?”
“I know. But I’m having a good time.”
“I’m glad you are.” I couldn’t help but grin at her enthusiasm. It was cool to see how much fun she was having. Every day, there was something new and fascinating to discover about her. I mean, I knew she’d grown up rich and sheltered, but how could I have assumed she’d never played video games before? I grew up under similar circumstances, but my Playstation was like a lifeline throughout my teen years.
We scarfed down a couple of burgers before it was time for Round Two. “Okay,” I said. “This time, try and talk to some adults.”
She laughed and shot back, “Yes, sir!”
I watched from afar as she took over the Ms. Pac Man again, and it wasn’t long before Kyle came and found her. I allowed a few minutes for those two to hang out, but when it looked like she was getting a little too comfortable with the situation, I stepped in again.
“Having fun?” I asked.
“No!” she exclaimed, as her last life fizzled out before her eyes. “But I made it to the fourth board! Look at my score!”
I chuckled, but didn’t let her adorable face distract me. We bid our adieu to Kyle as I led her toward the center of the arcade. “Okay. I think it’s time for some air hockey.”
“I’ve never played air hockey.”
“It’s easy. No skill necessary. Find someone here and ask them to play you.” She gave a shrug and started to walk off as I added, “Not the ten-year-old.”
I had to restrain myself from laughing as I watched Ainsley’s shoulders visibly slump. Poor girl. Thought she was getting off easy.
Turned out, I was the chump who’d be having the hardest time with this assignment. Ainsley walked up to the first man within her sights and asked him to play. It just so happened that the guy was too handsome for his own good. He seemed more than thrilled to have a beautiful stranger talking to him, and readily agreed to a game, even going so far as to insist he pay.
She made me proud with the way she smiled and joked as she thwacked the plastic disc across the table, really giving it her all.
Or maybe she was genuinely enjoying this dude’s attention.
He was really laying it on thick, making a point to explain how to play, exaggerating his heartbreak every time she scored on him. Take it down a notch there, Slick.
I was proud of Ainsley for doing so well, but I wasn’t digging the fact that this guy had been so receptive to taking the bait. I moved a bit closer to keep a better eye on the situation, and okay, yeah, maybe I was trying to eavesdrop.
Just in the nick of time, apparently.
“Oh my gosh,” she said. “Am I actually winning?”
“The game and my heart, beautiful.”
Ouch. I physically cringed from his corny line, but I almost dropped dead when he said, “Hey. Maybe you and I could go see some real hockey sometime.”
That did it. It was time to step in and shut that shit down.
“Hey, Ains. How you doing?”
“Great!” she answered on an elated grin.
I nodded at Slick. “How’s it going?”
“Good,” he answered. “You know, except that your girl here is kicking my ass.”
Better her than me, I thought. But instead of going caveman, I reveled in the fact that he’d just referred to Ainsley as “my girl.” I liked the sound of that.
I snickered and shot back, “Yeah. She kicks my ass, too.”
Ainsley bit her lip as she smiled up at me, and it was all I could do not to pull her toward me and bite that lip for her.
She finished her game with Slick and we both shook his hand. Mission accomplished. She’d completed enough of her assignment for one day.
Now it was my turn to play. “Wanna challenge the master at Shootout?”
She smiled as she answered, “Well, if you’re such a master, I don’t really stand a chance now, do I?”
I chuckled. “It’s just point and shoot. I’m thinking you can handle it.” After all, you’ve been using my chest as target practice for the past six weeks.
“Okay,” she agreed. “But I’m getting pretty good at all these games. You may regret calling me out.”
“Hmmm. Aren’t we getting cocky.”
“I’m getting confident. Not cocky,” she shot back. She took her place at the machine and pulled the gun from its holster. “I know you can’t tell the difference, but trust me, there is one.”
Holy shit! Did she just bust my balls? “Did you just call me cocky?”
She gave a coy shrug, trying to hide her smile. “If it walks like a duck...”
I almost busted out into a full-on laughing fit. The “insult” was far outshined by the pride I felt for her in that moment. Ainsley was totally getting it.
The ball-busting was a major turning point which continued as we trash-talked our way through the game.
“Got you, Blondie! Take a seat.”
“Oh please. Lucky shot. You suck at this.”
“You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“You can kiss my ass with yours.”
Ainsley’s use of the word “ass” had me sputtering out a laugh. I thought I was going to pass out. Holy hell was that funny. Who knew she had it in her?
“Obscene language from such a pristine girl,” I snarked.
I waited for her to reply I’m not that pristine, but she only smiled in response.
Okay. I know it wasn’t a direct quote, but I should have known that Ainsley wouldn’t have gotten my Breakfast Club reference regardless. But dammit. That was a perfect line for this situation. I’d have to remember to tell Mia later. She’d appreciate it.
Once the game was over, I checked the score and said, “Damn. I wish we bet money on this game.”
Ainsley shot me a side-eye. “No fair. I think my gun was broken.”
“Excuses, excuses,” I teased.
“No, I’m serious. Check it out for yourself.”
I was skeptical, but swiped my card through the slot to cue up a single-player game. Ainsley aimed her gun and took a bunch of shots, only landing a few targets.
“I don’t think it’s the gun,” I said.
I moved to stand behind her and reached my arms around hers, grasping her hands with my
own. And okay, yeah, I leaned in just a little and pressed my front against her back as I helped her aim correctly. She not only let me do it, but her elated giggling made me think she was enjoying it.
It was like my greatest junior high fantasy come to life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Tonight’s assignment was an easy one. After our Zumba class, Mia and I showered and headed over to her apartment.
I was there to help her rehearse Buttercup’s monologue from The Princess Bride. The plan was for Mia to recite it in the middle of Central Park next week, right there on the big rock at the edge of Strawberry Fields. The idea was to not give a shit about what anyone thinks and to pull off the Band-Aid when it came to public speaking. The back room at the restaurant was a good start, but now she needed to perform in front of a larger audience.
We’d culled the book version of the story for a monologue because the movie didn’t have any long, sprawling one-woman speeches. Mia was pretty disappointed about it, but didn’t really feel as passionately about any other subject matter. That’s when I remembered the source material, and stopped off at The Strand to pick up a copy of the book. It was a really great speech. Lots of corny, lovey-dovey moments for a hopeless romantic like Mia to indulge.
We’d made ourselves comfortable on her big, beige sofa to go over the transcript. Her apartment was nothing like I had expected. It wasn’t the dilapidated postage stamp she had made it out to be, and was actually a decently-sized space. Well, for New York, anyway. Aside from a short hallway that led to her bedroom and bath, the place was comprised solely of a living room and kitchen. There was no room for a table and chairs, but there wasn’t really a need for them; her kitchen had a long island with four vinyl stools. It also had red walls, one of those cool, retro, cast-iron stoves, and a matching white fridge.
Which, apparently, was empty.
She’d been procrastinating for the past hour. Instead of reading the damned monologue, she spent her time doing anything but. Fidgeting with the stereo, pacing around the floor, retrieving drinks for me... and now she was getting exasperated by her fruitless quest for a snack.
She slammed the fridge door and sighed, “There’s nothing to eat here and I’m starving. Let me take you out for some dinner.”
“Mia, we’re supposed to be—”
She waved me off with a flip of her hand. “We can work on my speech after we eat. I can’t even think about being productive on an empty stomach. C’mon. I know the perfect place.”
So it was about fifteen minutes later that we were stepping out of a cab in front of Samara’s Cuban BBQ up in Harlem. From first impressions, it was a block party masquerading as a restaurant. Situated on a huge lot between two brick tenements, the entirety of the restaurant was outdoors; twinkle lights draped across the span between the neighboring buildings creating an open-air canopy that gave off a soft glow. Mismatched tables and chairs were surrounded by a perimeter of barrel-grills, the smoke and steam of the cooked food wafting toward the sky.
I didn’t know what was cooking, but it smelled fantastic.
Mia took a deep breath and smiled. “You are in for a treat.”
I knew she was right as she directed me over to one of the grills. The chef was a dark-skinned woman with an infectious smile who wordlessly held a couple chicken wings out at the end of her tongs as we walked by. Free samples. Alright. Mia and I munched on them as we made our way to an empty wrought-iron table, one of only a few that were left unoccupied.
She clapped her hands over her head. “Shots, por favor!” she ordered good-naturedly. The waiter didn’t hesitate—nor did he ask what kind of liquor we wanted—as he plunked a couple of shot glasses and a carafe of something red on our table.
Mia poured us a round of drinks before holding hers out in a toast. “To friends, lovers, and everything in between.”
“Salud,” I replied on a smirk.
We didn’t even look at a menu much less put in our orders before a tray of ribs were placed on our table.
“Okay then,” I said. “I guess we’re having ribs?”
Mia laughed as she chomped into one, barbecue sauce staining her cheek. “Not just ribs. The best ribs you’ll ever eat.”
It only took one bite for me to agree. The meat just fell off the bone and practically melted in my mouth, a perfect blend of smoke and seasoning with just the slightest bit of burn. “Oh man, you weren’t kidding.”
Mia smiled proudly as she poured us another round. “I never kid about good food.”
* * *
The music was jamming. Hard to believe three guys were able to create so much noise. The sound blended with the spicy scent in the air, creating an energetic atmosphere which all but guaranteed a great night. Plus, Mia was always fun to hang out with. We ate, we talked... we did a lot of shots. I lost count. If this kept up, I was going to have to call a Dryver to get me and my car home tonight.
“Oh hey, I forgot to ask you,” Mia slurred loudly, trying to be heard over the music. “Did you give my number to Jared?”
“Yeah. I hope that was okay,” I said, pouring us another round.
“Yeah. It totally WAS NOT!”
I laughed, surprised to find that I was relieved. “What’s the problem? You guys got along great the other night. I thought you two could—”
“Luke. I’m not interested. Yes, he seems nice, but I like him as a friend. You know,” she said, as her voice took on an edge, “like you and me.”
I didn’t understand the bite in her words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Mia downed another shot and waved at me to do the same. “Nothing. I just meant that we have a great time together. Probably because we don’t have to worry about any of the sex stuff. I mean, I’m a career gal who’s obsessed with her promotion, you’re a virgin who’s obsessed with Paisley—”
“Ainsley. And I’m not obsessed.”
“Dude. You so are.”
“Obsessed is a strong word.”
She slapped her hands down on the table. “You’re saving your virginity for her!”
My eyes bugged as I snuck a peek at our surrounding area. Thankfully, it didn’t seem as though anyone was paying attention. “Christ. Is it really necessary to yell?”
Mia dismissed my question and continued with her attack. “You like to think you’re so damn sexy. You and I both know you’ve got nothing to back it up.”
“What the fuck, Mia?”
“Relax. I just meant that being sexy is just that. Emitting sexual vibes. Insinuating that you want to have sex. You never do, so...”
I didn’t care how much sense her explanation was making. The truth was, I was still stinging from her inadvertent insult. “You don’t think I’m sexy?”
“No. But if it’s any consolation, I think you’re smoking hot.”
“Same thing!”
“Not hardly. In fact, you being a virgin actually explains a lot.”
“Jesus. Stop throwing that word around. How so?”
“Well, you’ve always remained hands off with me.” She smirked as she added, “Most guys don’t have such self control.”
“I’ve remained ‘hands off’ because we’re friends. Also, you’re a client.”
“Hasn’t stopped you from flirting with Paisley.”
“Ainsley. And you know damn well I’ve been a perfect gentleman with her since Day One.” Until last week, anyway.
“Maybe that’s the problem.” When all I did was look at her in confusion, she said, “The first day we met, I thought you were a total smoothy. You were flirty and sexy. But as soon as I signed up as a client, you turned all business on me. That’s good, because it enabled us to become friends without the whole sex thing getting in the way. It worked out for us, but I can see why it would be a problem for you and your little blonde-girl crush.”
“Hey. Bruce has been on the job for two weeks now.”
“Bruce isn’t getting you anywhere. Besides, do you want a girl to be attract
ed to your alter-ego... or you?”
I started to understand what Mia was trying to tell me. I’d played the poser, the professional, the coach, and the mysterious billionaire. Where had it gotten me? “You’re right. I haven’t exactly been putting myself out there.”
“Hell, you’ve even held part of yourself back with me, and we’re friends! I mean, I don’t even know if there is a sexy guy underneath the statue.”
It was almost as if she were testing me, seeing if I’d rise to her challenge. If that was the case, then bravo, because her comment had me stewing. Before I could change my mind, I grabbed her hand and pulled her out of her chair. Challenge accepted.
I led her to the dance floor with enough gusto and blind purpose to lead Mia to ask, “Okay, Kevin Bacon. Are you trying to dance your frustrations away?”
I ignored her Footloose jab and shot her a smirk, pulling her against the length of my body as I said, “Nah. I just figured it was time to put some of our Zumba skills to good use.”
She seemed to like the sound of that, smiling as she let me move her around the floor.
I had a pretty good buzz going from all those shots, so Mia must have been flying. It was only a few minutes before we were both sweaty from the hot lights and vigorous dancing.
And, you know, because she was currently writhing against my cock.
Her body pressed against mine in a perfect fit, our dance moves synching together in practiced harmony. I had a hard-on but I didn’t care if she felt it. I wanted her to feel it. Maybe it was all those drinks or maybe it was just a matter of salvaging my pride, but I wanted to unleash everything I had on Mia. I wanted her to see me as a goddamn man. I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her body tighter to mine as I shot her a seductive smirk, daring her to play along.
Her wide-eyed look of shock melted into a half-lidded glare. She buried her face against my neck, her fingertips feathering over my nape, the slightest caress against my skin, her breath at my ear. She smelled incredible. A mixture of heat and sweat blended with her natural citrus scent, and it turned me on more than I cared to admit.
