"Well, my point is that this whole situation could have been avoided if you just didn’t go blabbing about my business to a complete stranger." I was more thankful than ever that I hadn’t spilled the beans about what Matthias and I had done that night.
"If I leave it to you, you’ll be single forever. I love you as a roommate, but you know this situation here won’t last, right? You’re far too uptight for me to marry."
Now fully dressed in a pair of flannel sweatpants and black wife beater, Candace stuck her hands onto her shapely hips and stared at me.
"Besides, it's not like he's some sort of weirdo creep. I talked to him a lot after you left, he’s a nice guy. And so hot. I know you noticed that, at least. You aren’t dead. "
"You don't know that he’s not a weirdo creep," I shot back at her. “If he was, it’s not like he’d advertise it.”
She gave me a flat look. Candace was the queen of flat looks. "You're going on a date with him, aren't you?"
"Only because if I didn't agree to it, he wasn't going to leave the library and would have likely got me fired!" I flung my arms in the air. "Isn’t that the very definition of weirdo creep-like behavior? "
Candace chuckled and shook her pale blonde head. She trudged through the mess of clothes on the ground and placed a gentle hand on my arm.
"Actually, I think it’s kind of sweet. Okay, maybe a tiny bit over-the-top for someone you barely spoke to, but like I said, I spoke to him and he seemed really interested in you. I figured you could use someone in your life that was into you like that. It’s been a while…"
I huffed a sigh, but allowed Candace to gently lead me out of her room. The narrow hall, with its light laminate and washed out cream walls, always seemed to me like a half-finished painting. I longed for the day when I wouldn't have to put up with a landlord or a lease, and I could make paint and flooring decisions for my own house.
"Now, tell me what’s really got you so stressed out," she said, depositing me onto our tawny-colored sofa. She loomed over me, like a disapproving parent.
"I'm going on a date with some cocky, asshole stripper," I muttered. "I feel like that speaks for itself."
"No, you're going on a date with a sexy as hell dude with a rockin' bod and more hip flexibility than an Olympian gymnast. Stripper is just his job, not his life. Don’t be so judgmental."
I scowled at her, but what really bothered me was that she had a point. Me, of all people, should hardly judge someone on their job. I had no intention of being a librarian forever.
So finally, rather than delve too far into the real reason I was upset—the cluster of confused emotions running through me—I gritted my teeth and got down to the more pressing issue.
"I don't have anything to wear."
Candace didn't laugh now, not that I thought she would. She had the uncanny ability to be needlessly flippant about what most people would consider responsible, adult behavior, but could always be called upon when there was true need. And a fashion crisis was right up her alley.
"Well, let's get to work, then!" she declared. "If you'd told me sooner, I could have hunted out a few selections in advance."
As if I would have admitted such a stupid, girly problem without a ton of prodding.
I reluctantly followed my friend into her bedroom. The mounds of clothes throughout the room, while a complete disorderly mess to me, somehow made sense to her. She flitted between a few piles and then grabbed a couple dresses from her closet to toss into a mix that she shoved into my arms.
"There should be something you like in here," she said. "If there isn't, even I can't help you."
She walked me back to my room and provided commentary on each of the pieces as I tried them on. After some deliberation, we settled on a flirty floral number with capped sleeves and a modest neckline. It cinched in at the waist, then flared out, which made the thighs I sometimes battled against appear shapely and elegant.
Afterward, Candace insisted on helping with my hair and makeup. I tried to tell her I could do that part alone, but she argued it was the least she could do to help since she'd gotten me into the situation in the first place.
I was glad I let her help. By the time I was out the door, I looked gorgeous. Even I would admit that.
Which left me with just a single remaining problem.
What to do on a date I never even wanted to go on in the first place.
I arrived right on time, and stood by the front doors as cars far more expensive than I could even dream of affording unloaded glamorous passengers before the valets took them away.
Isn't this place a bit fancy for a stripper to afford? Maybe I'm in the wrong line of work...
That, combined with the ceaseless butterflies in my gut, helped solidify my feeling that being here was a bad idea. I should have never gone along with this in the first place. This was never going to work, and the idea that Matthias was going to blow all this money on a lost cause just made me feel guilty.
I had to tell him before we even sat down.
While I waited for him to arrive, I scoped out the fancy characters as they prepared for their own dinner dates. Everyone was dressed up and I felt completely out of place. What was Matthias trying to achieve by bringing me here? Surely he wasn't trying to impress me into sleeping with him again?
Which brought up another point. The sex. Wasn't the point of a one night stand that the two parties never saw each other again? Hell, wasn't that supposed to what made it so exciting in the first place?
I was no expert, since Matthias had been my first—and probably only—one night stand, but the logic seemed pretty basic.
This whole thing was a waste of time. I'd only agreed because I didn't want him to cause a scene at work. I hadn't cancelled afterward because I didn't have a way to contact him and didn’t want to be rude by standing him up. Besides, he would have probably just shown up at the library again tomorrow if I did.
So I had to do it now, as soon as he appeared. It was the right thing to do.
But then why did the thought of ending things early give me such a sinking feeling in my stomach?
I chalked it up to nerves and waited.
Matthias was only a minute late, by my watch, which I found kind of endearing. I would have expected a guy like him to keep me waiting for a while, like some sort of messed up power play. But here he was.
And he looked incredible.
He grinned at me in a way that reminded me a little too much of our tryst in the dimly lit bedroom, which filled my head with steamy memories that threatened to buckle my knees. His dark hair had been brushed back, though my fingers yearned to comb through it and shake it out a bit.
Keep your fingers to yourself!
I mentally recalibrated, reminding myself that the only reason I was here was with the understanding that at some point I would have to politely tell my persistent suitor that I wasn't interested in any further relationship. And the sooner I did that, the better.
Easy, right?
Except now here he was, looking as handsome as ever. If possible, he almost looked better with clothes on. Almost. It was like the clothes made him look classy. Regal, even. Maybe I was just nervous. This restaurant was too elegant for either of us, which was just making things worse.
I had to tell him.
I had to tell him now.
12
Ally
"Wow," Matthias observed. "You look amazing."
A flutter of warmth slid through me. But it was probably just from the setting sun, its slanting beams hitting my back. I didn't want to be here. I just had to remind myself of that.
"Thank you." I offered up a tense smile.
Matthias raised his arm, an uncharacteristically gentlemanly gesture. The first time we talked, he'd had a towel over his erection the whole time. Where the hell was this kind of civility coming from?
It didn't matter. I needed to decline.
I reached up, but only to press his arm back against his side. He wore
a button-down shirt in a dark, dreamy navy that accentuated the olive tone of his skin. It felt like silk against my fingers. I had to reach for his upper arm when I touched him, since he'd rolled up the sleeves to his elbow and I didn't trust myself against his bare skin. Who knew what kind of trouble that would cause?
The sooner I get out of here, the better.
Matthias raised a questioning brow at me.
I took a deep breath. "I can't go to dinner with you. I only agreed because it was easier than flat-out denying you in the middle of my work, but it doesn't seem right to go through with it now."
He chuckled lightly, cocking his head to the side to observe me with a charming smile. "How very noble of you," he declared. "Can I ask what it was exactly that turned you from a reluctant dinner guest to a flighty one?"
The way the syllables danced along his exotic tongue was more distracting than I remembered. It was as if he savored each one before it escaped his lips.
I shivered. The need to leave hit an all-time high.
"Well look at this place." With a flourish, I gestured to the grand facade of the restaurant. For further emphasis, I then included the fancy car rolling up next to us in my sweep.
Matthias' eyes lit with mischief. "Is it not nice enough for you? I can see if the Ritz has any available reservations."
That comment reminded me of another reason I needed to leave. He never took anything seriously, like Candace. He was an insufferable smartass. That may have been a selling point for having a fun one-night stand, but I couldn’t see how we could make a relationship out of it.
"You know what I mean." I glared. I wasn’t entirely sure if he was missing my point on purpose or not, but I didn’t think it was polite to discuss finances on a date, particularly a first one. I’m sure he didn’t want me to come out and say that I didn’t think he could afford this place.
Did this count as our first date? Did having sex technically count as a date? If so, that would make this our second.
No, that didn't count. And it didn’t matter anyway.
Matthias thrust his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels like a mischievous school boy. The buttery evening sun made him look like he was glowing. I found it hard not to stare.
"I'm afraid I'm not following," Matthias said. "Sometimes I find your American allusions to be confusing."
"This place is too expensive, Matthias." I pressed my lips together in a hard line at being forced to come out and say it. "And since I wasn't planning to spend more time with you than necessary anyway, I think we should skip the date so you can save your money."
My guilt was slowly turning into bitterness. At this point, I was beginning to wonder if I should go through with the date just so I could spend his money and get a little payback for being so annoyed.
Matthias seemed unruffled by my change in tone. He shrugged, a gesture that he somehow made seem dignified.
"What's money good for if not to be spent, chérie?" he posed. "Perhaps you have no intention of ever seeing me again, and that's fine. But we shouldn't let that ruin a good meal."
Did he think this was some kind of joke? He obviously figured he could still win me over somehow, and was willing to put money down on dinner like he would on a bet. He was such a cocky ass!
"Are you a big fan of gambling?" I asked.
"I've gambled in the past, but I've never found it particularly exciting," Matthias replied. “I don't like leaving things to chance. Normally if I want something, I just take it. I don't let fate dictate what I can and cannot have." He glanced down at me and smiled. “But in this case, the reward is too tempting to pass up.”
It was a simple statement, one that shouldn't have held such dark and seductive undertones. Yet, somehow, his words washed over my skin like velvet. I glanced away so he wouldn’t see the blush rising on my cheeks.
Matthias offered me his arm once again. This time, I took it.
Hell, a girl needs to eat. I did my best to warn him. If he was so determined to waste his money, who was I to stop him? I hadn't had a fancy restaurant meal since my graduation dinner.
The restaurant practically smelled of money, but at least the dim lighting and smooth piano music in the background began to wash away at least some of the tension I'd been holding.
Maybe this wouldn't be such a disaster after all. I could have a nice time, eat some nice food, and then maybe Matthias would finally leave me alone.
The Maître D’ led us to a small and secluded table at the back of the restaurant. It almost felt like we’d been led into a dimly lit cave, but in a good way.
But once we were sat down, I was once again confronted with my warring emotions about the arrogant and attractive man across from me.
The idea that I didn’t want to be on here was a conclusion easily drawn from both my preferences in men and Matthias’ past behavior. If love was a math formula, putting he and I together wouldn't work. Therefore, we shouldn't even try.
Yet every minute I spent with him made me question whether the formula had a fundamental flaw in it somewhere. Like perhaps that it was incapable of properly factoring in a man like Matthias. He was some sort of exception to the rule.
Something about him intrigued me. Beyond all common sense and everything I knew about myself, I found him to be interesting and engaging in a way I’d never really felt towards a man before. Even when he was infuriating me.
"What are you thinking about?"
Matthias' smooth voice brought me crashing back down to the present. He stared at me over the table, candlelight causing his eyes to flicker in his amusement.
"Taxes," I blurted, grasping for something boring that might be the complete opposite of the truth. "Just, uh, thinking about my tax return."
He took a sip of the water in front of him, unfazed. "Really. And what tax-related problem is pressing at you at this particular moment? Perhaps I can help."
What was a polite way to question the viability of tax advice offered by a foreign stripper?
"I wouldn't have pegged you as the type who delves much into the intricacies of the American tax system." I reached for my glass, feeling parched. The server could not come around fast enough.
Matthias smiled knowingly at me. We both knew my tax excuse was a pretty lame lie, but he seemed happy to play along until I broke.
"You'd be surprised what I know. As a performer, I'm technically a self-employed contractor," he said. "And it pays to have a thorough understanding of where I gain and lose money each year."
The server, a tall blonde man with even blonder highlights, arrived at our table just in time to save me. I exhaled a breath as he took our drink order—Matthias apparently had a thorough understanding of wine as well—relieved at the brief interruption and hoping it would lead to a change of subject.
But as soon as it was just Matthias and I again, the wicked grin he flashed me let me know that he wasn’t about to let me off the hook so easily.
13
Ally
"Please, continue telling me about your tax problem, chérie." Matthias' tone was sincere, but his grin remained mischievous. "I will help you in any way I can."
My face felt like someone had just thrown boiling water at it. I decided just to own it.
"Fine, you win. I wasn't thinking about taxes. I was thinking about you." My bitter tone did nothing to dissuade the self-satisfied smile that spread across his face.
"About me? What could you possibly be thinking about me?" He captured my gaze. "Or perhaps it's better I don't know."
"I think it's better you don't know," I replied.
"Then would you like to hear what I've been thinking about you, instead?" he offered, as if it were a special treat.
I was tempted to take him up on it. More than tempted, I was absolutely dying to know. In that moment, I cared more about what he'd been thinking about me than I did about when the wine would be coming.
But like hell I'd show it.
"No, I'd rather talk about yo
u," I replied, shooting him a coquettish grin.
Matthias didn't stumble, but a wildness in his eyes told me this wasn't his favorite topic. Odd. I would have thought that a man as arrogant and self-involved as he was would have loved talking about himself.
"There's not much about me to talk about." He shrugged and reclined in his chair in a gesture that seemed created to add a more casual air to his words. "I'm just a good-looking guy who takes off his clothes for money. Nothing more."
“I don't believe that. For starters, you have an accent I can’t place, which means you’re from some place exotic. That alone would be a place to start."
I leveled my gaze with his over the table. I didn't believe that there wasn’t a lot more to the man across from me that the fact that he took off his clothes for money. Matthias was a lot deeper. The way he spoke and acted was like nobody I'd ever met before in my life—and not just because I'd never met any other strippers.
“Caspierre is just a small country that almost no one has ever heard of, so it’s barely worth talking about.” He shrugged.
Before I could delve deeper into the subject, the server returned with our wine and he and Matthias went through the whole complicated ritual of pouring some into a glass so that Matthias could sample it before filling us up completely. I never understood the point; all wine tasted the same to me.
Apparently, Matthias knew what he was doing, though. He conferred with the server in a low tone, though I occasionally caught snippets of a conversation I had only heard in movies but never in real life. Apparently it was very good wine. And another odd piece of the puzzle that was Matthias. How many strippers knew that much about expensive wine?
We were left alone again since neither of us had bothered to look at the menu yet. That was strange. Usually when I went on a first date, the menu was the first thing we both grabbed for. It was an easy way to smooth over any initial awkwardness, which there almost always was. Tonight I hadn’t even thought about it until the waiter asked if we were ready to order.
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