The Truths about Dating and Mating

by Jaycee DeLorenzo

  “Ivy!” Chelsea shook her head.

  “What?”

  “You know, you two are some of the biggest idiots I’ve ever met. And liars, to boot!”

  “Hey!’ I said, offended.

  “You are,” Chelsea insisted. “You lied to him about what you are feeling. Why not tell him the truth?”

  “Why humiliate myself when he’s made it clear he doesn’t feel the same? And I mean that literally. He said, ‘I have no romantic feelings for you.’ It doesn’t get much clearer than that.”

  “You lied. Don’t you think it’s possible he was doing the same?”

  I wish, I thought, stepping forward in line, though I didn’t say it aloud. I didn’t want to give voice to something I’d been secretly hoping for. It was a fool’s hope, anyway. I’d gotten involved with an emotional shut in who used sex to make himself feel better. It had never been about me.

  Instead of answering, I pretended to be distracted by something to my side, using the old I-think-I-see-someone-I-know-in-the-distance routine.

  And it turned out, I did see someone I knew.

  Two someones.

  Icy tingles pulsated up my spine and my mouth parted as I stared across the eatery to where Ian sat in a booth across from Mallory. Mallory reached her hand across the table and stroked Ian’s wrist. He followed her fingers eyes and his mouth turned into that sexy grin I knew so well.

  I swayed on my feet and took a step backward. My mouth tasted like soot – soft, furry, grungy – and a ringing started in my ears.

  I blinked hard, hoping the nauseating scene would turn out to be nothing but a figment of my twisted imagination, but the sight of them together was still there when my eyes opened. Revulsion bunged in my throat.

  I was just processing my brain’s delayed command to look away, when Ian looked up. Our eyes locked. For a moment, his mouth slackened, and he actually looked wounded. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, a mocking light filled his eyes. The smirk returned to his mouth.

  That hurt more than anything. He’d already hurt me; why would he want to rub it in? Why would he want to be so cruel?

  Mallory followed his gaze and, to add insult to injury, a triumphant smile moved over her aristocratic face.

  Chelsea, who seemed wholly unaware of all this going on, tugged on my arm. “Ivy? We’re holding up the line.”

  I stepped forward, then shook my head and stepped to the side. “You know what? I’m not really in the mood for coffee. I think I’m just going to go home.”

  “Home? What--?” Chelsea began, but I was already fleeing.

  As much as I hated for Ian to see me scurrying away - to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d driven me to do so - I could not stay. If I did, I might break down again, and in public. That couldn’t happen. He’d consumed my head and decimated my heart, but I still had my pride.

  ***

  The sun came out Friday morning. It would have been a welcome change from the gray and gloomy week if the humidity hadn’t spiked to muggy and unbearable by mid-morning.

  “It’ll be very Mardi Gras-ish,” Amery declared when I arrived at her house that afternoon to decorate for Casey’s party. Nevertheless, after an hour of transforming her house into a Mardi Gras marvel, even she had begun to complain about the stickiness of the air.

  Three hours later, I groaned as I trudged up the three flights to my apartment. The heat had sapped all my energy, and after spending three hours setting up for the party, I wanted nothing more than to crawl in bed and sleep for the next twelve hours. If the party was for anyone else but Casey, I probably would have skipped it.

  I banked on a shower and a couple shots of espresso to perk me up. I had the latter in hand and was about two minutes from hopping into the first. I really wanted a nap, a chance to recharge my batteries, but there wasn’t time. It was almost six; Jayden would be coming to pick me up at seven.

  After two days of moping, I’d woken up yesterday with a new sense of purpose. So, I’d gambled with Ian and I’d lost – I’d known the risks going into it, and now I just had to suck it up. Ian may have broken my heart, but he hadn’t broken my spirit. Besides, I had plenty of other things going for me. I had a good GPA (3.7 at the end of last semester), some pretty great girlfriends, and a hot and fun guy who actually wanted to be around me. Plus, Dr. Wilkinson asked me to stay behind after Wednesday’s class to tell me about a private grant she’d just received to do a comparative study between women’s sexual fantasies and sexual realities, and she invited me to be part of her team.

  I’d been high off the invitation, so when Jayden called that evening, I’d invited him to the party without a thought.

  I kept telling myself that I didn’t need Ian. Who really needed a best friend who slept with legions of women and committed to none? One who was moody and unpredictable, and tried to dictate my dating life? Who was such a bastard that he would sleep with me and then ignore me like he would any other girl who had climbed into his bed?

  Yeah, I needed Ian Hollister like I needed a hole in my head.

  I reached the third-floor landing and mopped my brow with my sleeve. And I tried my damndest to ignore the niggling voice in my head: you may not need him, but you still want him.

  “Stupid voice,” I grumbled, letting myself into the apartment.

  The next hour was a whirlwind of showering, blow-drying, curling and pinning my hair up on my head. I did full make-up, and after going through my closet, decided to wear my new purple velvet top over a short, black skirt.

  Actually, it couldn’t be a more perfect choice. The color was theme-appropriate, and trying it on revealed it to look just as good at home as it did in the store – score! There was one little problem, though…

  Studying my reflection in the mirror, I could still see faint evidence of the hickey on my neck. I lifted my hand and rubbed my thumb over the yellowish skin. It was the only physical proof remaining of my night with Ian.

  I pressed my lips together and my thoughts surged with unbidden memories. I hadn’t forgotten what it felt like to have his body pressed against mine, the brush of his mouth on my skin, the feel of his strong and sure hands exploring my every curve. I felt an acute ache in my chest just thinking about it.

  Despite the aftermath of that night, I couldn’t deny that I still craved his touch.

  “But you were just the one who was there, Ivy,” I said in a harsh, resentful voice.

  My hand dropped from my neck and I gave myself a hard stare.

  I marched to my dresser. Rummaging inside the second drawer, I pulled out a handful of scarves. I found a gold and white print that, when paired with the purple top, screamed Mardi Gras. I returned to the mirror and wrapped it around my neck, tying it in a small bow. The tails fell down on either side of my right shoulder, aviator-like.

  There. The last shred of physical proof of that night was properly hidden.

  The doorbell rang a few minutes later. I went to answer it and let Jayden into the apartment. He looked great in a blue shirt that really brought out the blue in his eyes.

  “You look beautiful,” he told me.

  I blushed and thanked him, then ushered him inside. “I’m almost done. Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”

  Minutes later, I was putting on a pair of shoes when the door swung open and banged against the wall. I flinched, then whirled around as Ian barged inside. “Ian, what?”

  “I need to talk to you,” he said, kicking the door closed behind him. His chest heaved, his hands twitched at his sides, and the look in his eyes was wild and kind of disturbing. “Now.”

  I shook my head in amazement. I didn’t know why I was so shocked to see him. Ian’s timing had always been impeccable. We weren’t even talking and yet, he still managed to sense something was going on that he had to intrude on. Was he wired with some kind of sensor that went berserk any time I did something that didn’t include him?

  Warning! Warning! Ivy’s stopped thinking about you fo
r more than a minute! Time to go remind her!

  When I recaptured the ability to talk, I narrowed my eyes and snarled at him, “I can’t talk to you right now. Maybe you didn’t notice, but I have a date.”

  “Yeah, it was a little hard to miss,” he remarked, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

  With an exasperated huff, I moved around the room, gathering my things and cleaning up to hide my anxiety. That was what I had to do at that moment; keep moving, not look him in the face, never let him see how rattled I was.

  I tried to ignore him, but he began following me around the room. It really was too small for two people. Frazzled, I spun in circles before finally seeing my wet towel on the corner of the bed. I picked it up and was making my way over to the bathroom when he stepped in front of me, blocking my passage.

  “Get out of my way,” I ordered in a firm voice, keeping my eyes leveled on his chest.

  “Not until you listen to me.”

  “Dammit, Ian! You can’t just ignore me for a week, and then expect me to roll over and thank God that you’ve deigned to talk to me. I’m done doing things on your time. Now, get out of my way.”

  At length, he stepped aside.

  I walked around him and into the bathroom. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea; I realized that when he followed me.

  “Why did you even sleep with me?”

  My hand froze mid-air in lifting up the towel.

  His face’s reflection appeared next to mine in the mirror. The disturbing darkness in his eyes made my pulse stutter. “I told you my reason,” he said, “but you never told me yours.”

  “Yes, I…” I began weakly and trailed off. If the bedroom was too small, the bathroom felt like a tin can. If I moved just an inch backward, I’d be touching him. Trying to put more distance between us, I stepped closer to the sink and kept my eyes trained on the water faucet. “I told you… I wanted to be there for you.”

  “That’s it?”

  Unable to outright lie, I pursed my lips together and nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

  His expression grew cynical. “So, you’re saying that sleeping with me was a completely selfless act? That you got nothing out of it, other than the joy of helping out a friend?”

  It did sound pretty stupid when he put it that way.

  I floundered. How did one even answer a question like that? I supposed it didn’t matter, since my tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of my mouth, anyway. In the end, I shrugged lamely.

  His shaking hand clasped around my bicep and he turned me around. “Are you going to answer me?”

  After a quick glance at his stormy eyes, I averted my eyes. “No.”

  His hands slid down my arms and tightened around my wrists. He pulled them up to his chest and pinned them there. There was no hiding my trembling in that position. “No, you’re not going to answer me, or no, you got nothing out of our night together?”

  “Leave me alone.”

  “You’re saying you have no feelings for me outside of our friendship?”

  I couldn’t breathe. I shook my head.

  “I don’t believe that,” he growled. And then he kissed me, if you could call slamming his mouth down on mind so hard that I felt my teeth digging into my lips.

  I reacted as if I’d been hit by an electrical current; struggling in his grasp, arching my middle, trying to get away. Then I pulled him in closer. The kiss was punishing and angry. I poured a week of aggravation and hurt and fury into that kiss, and it felt electrifying and wrong at the same time.

  When I finally came to my senses, it was to shove him away.

  “Fuck you!” I cried, swiping at my mouth with the back of my hand.

  He lifted his head up with a confused look. “Fuck me?”

  “Yeah, fuck you. What is this?”

  “I was proving a point. This isn’t over between us. And that’s okay. That’s good, because I-I love--”

  I lifted my hand like a badge, stalling his words. “Don’t you dare.”

  “Ivy—“

  My chest heaved. “You have the nerve to come here after a week of snubbing me, and tell me you…” I broke off, the word stopping up in my throat. “You only want me because I’m going out with someone else.”

  “You believe that?”

  “I know it! If you really wanted me… loved me, why wait until now to tell me? You would have told me, before. Hell, all it would have taken was a single word, and I would have been yours.”

  “Bullshit!”

  The force of his seething reply caused me to flinch. “What?”

  “You heard me! You had already moved on by Tuesday, so don’t try to put this all on me.”

  I stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

  “Jayden! Ring any bells? It should, he’s standing in your living room.”

  I backed away. How did he know?

  He stepped forward and glowered down at me. “Didn’t think I knew, did you? I saw you with him, Ivy.”

  “Where?” I asked, my voice faint.

  “At Luna’s. Casey and I were there when you walked in. Believe it or not, I asked him to give me some tips about how to talk to you.” Ian’s snort of laugher lacked humor. “You were so wrapped up in him you didn’t even notice. You give me shit for downshifting fast; you didn’t even wait until the bed was cold.”

  I swallowed the guilty knot in my throat. “It wasn’t like that. I made plans with him before you and I were together. And I would have broken them off, if you hadn’t ignored me on Sunday.”

  “Did you, even once, stop to think that all this was new to me? That sleeping with someone I honestly cared about, who cared about me, was new to me? I didn’t know what to say!” He sighed and raked both his hands through his hair. “I knew I was fucking it up, and you were getting so frustrated and angry with me. I panicked and lost my nerve.”

  That made me falter. It actually made quite a bit of sense, now that I thought about it. “So, you tell me you slept with me because I was there? Treat me like I was another one of your whores?”

  He closed his eyes. “I handled it wrong, I admit it. But there were two of us there. You didn’t have to leave it all up to me.”

  “I tried talking to you, and you ran away from me. Hell, you treated me like a discarded conquest from the moment you got to the house on Sunday! I didn’t know how you felt about what happened. I didn’t want to seem like one of the other stupid bitches who chase you around!”

  He shook me slightly. “You have never been one of them. And if you haven’t realized that by now, then I don’t know why we’re friends.”

  “Then maybe we shouldn’t be,” I snapped.

  My regret was instant. A plea to allow me to take it back climbed up my throat, but I could tell by his face that it was too late.

  His mouth parted, and then snapped shut. His eyes blanked. “If that’s the way you want it.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “What is it about Mr. Darcy that’s makes women love him so much?” Chelsea asked from her makeshift bed on the floor, two hours into “Pride and Prejudice.”

  “Easy; he’s hot,” Amery’s brows wagged.

  Chelsea rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking about the actor. I’m talking about the character of Darcy.”

  “So am I,” Amery said. “Don’t they mention in the beginning how handsome he is?” She pulled apart the two halves of an Oreo and licked the creamy center with the corners of her mouth pulled up into a smile.

  “Yes.”

  “There you go, then.” Amery giggled, lifting her Oreo up in triumph. The glimmer in her eye indicated she was teasing.

  Chelsea threw a wadded-up chocolate wrapper at her. “Looks aren’t everything.”

  I unwrapped my own mini-chocolate bar and popped it into my mouth. “That’s for sure.”

  Amery threw the wrapper back at Chelsea. “They don’t hurt, though.”

  I grinned. “That’s for sure.”

  Chelsea laughed. Amery rolled her eyes at
me and turned her attention back to the television. Whatever had been bothering her at the party the night before was still bothering her. I was guessing it had to be about Jayden, though that seemed weird. She’d never struck me as the jealous type.

  Chelsea moved onto her back on the floor and gazed at the ceiling, pondering her own question. “But what is it that’s still melting the hearts of women two centuries later? I mean… he’s rude, stubborn, emotionally unattainable, and it goes without saying, proud. Is it the transformation we see him go through that makes him so ideal?”

  Amery slouched further on her end of the couch. “Well, we find out he’s a good man, who will go to any lengths to ensure the happiness of the woman he loves.”

  Carrie spoke up from where she was lying on her belly near the TV. She’d been so quiet most the night that I’d almost forgotten she was there. “I think it’s what he represents that really speaks to our hearts. We’re offered a rare glimpse of a man who is so unattainable, brought to his knees by his ardent love for one woman. Who doesn’t secretly desire that? To be the one woman in the world to capture the heart of a man so completely?”

  “Especially knowing others have tried, and none have succeeded,” Amery mused.

  “Exactly,” Carrie said, looking her way. “There’s been a shift in control. Everything he valued before, he’s willing to sacrifice for her. She has tamed the once untamable.”

  Chelsea made a thoughtful noise. “He loves her as she is – flaws and all.”

  “And it’s a passionate love.” Amery smiled wistfully at the ceiling. “The best kind of all.”

  “Passion isn’t everything,” I muttered, turning my attention to my freshly-painted purple toenails. I thought of my night with Ian, the intensity in his eyes, getting swept up in the passion of the moment. “You get caught up in the moment and it clouds your mind, making your forget the reality of your situation.”

  Amery made a snorting sound. “Who wants to be in a passionless relationship?”

  “No, really,” I said. “There are more important things. What about comfort? Trust? Communication?”

  “What about rip-your-clothes-off sex?” Chelsea asked.