by Lulu Pratt
I’m straight forward in the way I say it, almost making it so she can’t say no. It’s a trick I had learned from my long years of playing the field.
“Is that right?” She responds, sounding more intrigued than anything.
“Yes. I don’t like the idea of you making your way home in your current state. It’s dangerous, and I wouldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to you.”
“As honorable as that sounds, I think I’ll pass,” she responds. “I’m not that easy. And besides, I require a real date before I go home with a man. One where the location doesn’t smell like stale carpet and bad decisions.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’m counting on it.”
As she finishes her drink, she holds back a small burp, and it’s the cutest thing I think I have ever seen. It is right then that I know I’m going to call her. There’s nothing that will be able to stop me.
Chapter 4
CARRIE
“The orange juice is in. The Champagne is mixed. Now, all I need is the gossip, and we have the makings of an excellent day.” Amy plonks herself down in the chair opposite mine as she takes her first sip of our home-made mimosas. “Not bad. Could do with some more Champagne. But then again, can’t everything?”
Amy is my best friend and has been for the better part of five years. She’s a hairdresser, and that’s how I met her. I went in for a simple haircut and was talked into totally reinventing myself. Since then, I haven’t looked back.
“I invited you over here for some life advice. Not gossip.” I chuckle as I sample our beverage for myself.
It’s only just past noon on a Monday, but as Amy has the day off, she convinced me, very easily, the time was perfect for drinks.
“Gossip? Life advice? Please tell me how the two are different, and I’ll quit drinking today.”
“Fine,” I relent. “I guess you want to hear about Blake?”
“Even his name is sexy,” Amy teases as she leans forward, giving me her utmost attention.
“And so is he. Believe me. Really everything about him was. The way he dressed, the way he spoke. And his eyes, I could have stared at them all night.”
“Then, why didn’t you?” She asks, flashing me a wicked smile.
“Because I’m not that kind of a girl. I told him he needs to take me on a real date. He can afford it. And when he does, well, ask me the next day how my self-control is.”
“I haven’t seen this specimen yet, but the picture I have in my mind is telling. Do you think he’ll call?”
“I think so,” I say with more confidence than I feel.
I am pretty sure that he is going to call, at least I assume that he will, based off the night. But with a guy like that, I can only assume. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has a whole host of women chasing him.
“Excellent. That’s all I need to hear.” She takes a mighty sip of her mimosa, nearly finishing it before I have had so much as a mouthful of my own. “Oh, I forgot to ask you. How was the reunion? Was everything okay?”
She grimaces as she asks the question, and I know why.
“Yeah, it was fine,” I admit. “They showed her face on the screen at one point, but I just looked away.”
“You poor thing. How are you holding up? It’s been, what? Three months now?”
“Four as of last Thursday,” I quietly correct her, looking down at my drink as I do. I don’t like to talk about it at the best of times, even with Amy.
The reason for Amy’s reserve is because of my sister, who passed away four months previously. It was a car crash. A drunken driver plowed into the side of her car. And as bad as that was, I was reminded of it at the reunion. They flashed her picture on the big screen at one point, in honor of her passing. It felt like a knife driving through my belly.
“It was hard seeing it. But maybe it’s for the best? Closure for me, you know?”
“Yeah, closure.” Amy reaches forward and rubs the back of my hand. “Trust me. You know Lyndsey, and you know she wouldn’t have wanted you wasting your time mourning over her. She would have wanted you to move on, finish your book and maybe start a family.”
“Yeah, okay,” I scoff. “Let’s take bets on which one comes first. None of them have good odds.”
I’m really not that interest in having a family, and it has a lot to do with my upbringing. I’m an orphan. My mother died when I was very young and my father died when I was eight. For me, there’s really no coming back from that. Lyndsey is my adopted sister, and although she and my adoptive parents did all they could to make me feel like part of the family, I never really felt like I belonged. Not in the truest sense anyway.
Those feelings still haunt me to this day and are a large reason why having a family was very low on my list of things to do.
“Whatever,” Amy says with derision as she waves me down. “You’re gorgeous, and you know it. All you need is a man. Once you have one you like, and trust me on this, he won’t be able to put you down. Who knows, maybe this Blake will be the one. Wedding bells anyone?”
“Stop!” I exclaim, trying not to laugh at my ridiculous friend. “He hasn’t even called me back. If he does. And if I like him. And if he likes me. I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself.”
“Okay, but you heard it here first,” Amy finishes with a knowing smile, as if she can see something I can’t.
I glare at my best friend as I finish my drink. The moment my glass is empty, I hold it out for her to refill, which she does willingly. The day is young, the drinks are flowing, and I know that the two of us still have a long day of gossiping to get through. I am, truth be told, rather looking forward to it.
Chapter 5
BLAKE
I couldn’t get Carrie out of my head all weekend. Longer than that even. It’s Tuesday morning now and still she haunts my mind.
It has nothing to do with her beauty, even though she has that. And it has nothing to do with the scintillating conversation the two of us had, even though we had that, too.
It was the effortless way in which she turned me down. That kind of thing never happens to me. Women don’t turn me down, ever. Usually, once I have a woman alone, it’s only too easy to get them to come back to my place. But not Carrie. And that was what had me so intrigued three days after meeting her.
Sitting at my desk, I can’t stop staring at my phone.
As a film producer, I often work from home. I’m my own boss, and that allows for me to dictate the rules. It’s a convenient arrangement and is usually a good thing. But today, it has its drawbacks.
I stare at the phone, and I can’t think of a reason not to call. Sure, I can do some more work. But there’s nothing urgent on my schedule until a meeting this afternoon. And sure, I can go for a run, or to the gym, but again, none of it is that pressing.
Finally, after visualizing her perfect ass, I make a snap decision to call Carrie. I pick up the phone, dial the number, take a deep breath and wait for her to answer.
“Hello,” she says on the other end of the line. Her voice is like honey. Music to my ears. I have forgotten how sweet she sounds.
“Carrie, it’s Blake,” I say casually. I want to sound like I called her as an afterthought.
“Oh, hi,” she responds in an upbeat manner. “How are you?”
“Good. Better now that I’ve spoken to you. Wait, is that too cheesy?” Women usually eat that stuff up.
“Definitely too cheesy,” she says, chuckling.
“Damn, I hope you won’t hold that against me. Especially since I called to arrange a time to take you out.”
I am smooth and relaxed as I talk.
“Hmm, I think it might,” she jokes.
At least I hope it’s a joke.
“How about this? I’ll just have to make it up to you. Add it to the list for me having taken you to that crack den the other night.”
“I don’t know. First that crack den. Then that line. I won’t be surprised if you
propose to me next.”
I can tell that she is joking, but I wish that I could see her rather than just having to hear her. I operate a lot better face to face. It makes it easier to play off their reactions.
“You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you? I don’t know if I have it in me.”
I lean back in my chair. I can’t believe the chemistry that we share. I have never felt this enthusiastic about a woman, and so quickly. It’s bizarre to say the least.
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to hear it. Just a little begging.” She chuckles again.
I get the sense that she is having a lot of fun toying with me. She is going to say yes. I know she is. It’s just a matter of getting her there.
“Okay, how about this? Carrie, it would do me a great honor if you would let me take you out to dinner tonight. In fact, nothing would please me more. There? How was that?”
“I could do without the sarcasm.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Kidding,” she cuts in quickly. I can hear her laughing to herself on the other end of the line. She is definitely enjoying herself. “I have some bad news anyway. I can’t tonight. I have other plans.”
“Well, cancel them,” I say quickly and with force.
“Wow, is that how it’s going to be?” She asked.
I don’t know how, but I can tell that she’s smiling on the other end of the line.
“For now.”
“Either way, I have very firm plans for tomorrow night, too. So if I do come out tonight, it’s going to have to be a short dinner. If you were hoping for something to happen afterward, you might just have to realign your goals.”
I love the way that she toys with me. It’s such a turn on. I’m glad that I’m sitting at my desk and alone, for I could feel my pants tightening with thoughts of what I wanted to do to her.
“Is that so?” I ask, the tone of my voice telling her that I didn’t believe her for a second.
“It is so. Very much.”
“Okay,” I say. “How about this? Come and have dinner with me tonight. If you want to call it a night at the end, I won’t try to stop you. But I can almost guarantee that won’t be the case. In fact, I’m willing to put money on it.”
“Really?” I could hear her openly laughing on the other end of the line. I have her.
“You’re very confident.”
“It helps in my line of work.”
“Fine, I give up,” she relents. She was always going to. She just needed some convincing. “Where are we going?”
“I’ll text you the details. And don’t be late. I hate tardiness.”
Hanging up the phone, I have a smile on my face, and as I am alone, I don’t bother hiding it or trying to wipe it off. Instead, I wear it proudly like a badge of honor. Carrie talks a big game and acts like she is certain she is going home afterwards. But based off our conversation and how much we were flirting, I know that it would be otherwise. In fact, I am all but certain that I will be taking Carrie home with me.
Chapter 6
CARRIE
Blake sends me a text almost the minute after he hung up the phone. And even after I get the text message, with the location of the restaurant and time to meet, I continue to stare down at my phone as if it is some sort of alien device. I just can’t believe that he has invited me out to dinner.
And it isn’t just the fact that he had done it, but the way that he did. He is so sure and confident in himself. It is like nothing I have ever experienced. I tried my best to deflect and act like I wasn’t impressed by his cockiness, but it was just that, an act. Really my heart was beating a million times a minute.
*
The restaurant is a fancy Italian spot that I have never been to before. It is the kind of place that I have never even dreamt of going. The items on the menu cost more than I make a week, and the drinks cost more than I make a night. Naturally, as I arrive and see the place, I’m a little nervous.
It’s earlier than Blake had indicated in the text, and that is by design. I like to arrive to dates early so that I can get my foundations down and settle myself in. Sometimes, I will even order a glass of wine, in case I need to loosen up.
I walk through the restaurant to the booked table, and as I do, I feel increasingly nervous, as if I don’t belong. In fact, I can sense the eyes of the other patrons on me, like they know I’m a faker.
Reaching my chair, I just about fall into it with relief. As I tuck myself into the table, I quickly order a glass of red. My plan is to loosen up myself, just enough so that when Blake does walk through the door, I can be myself and deflect the charm I know he is going to bring.
I am halfway through my glass when I spot him. The moment I do, I feel my knees go weak and I thank God that I am sitting down, another reason for arriving early. He spots me instantly and walks to me with a smirk on his face.
He looks as handsome as I remember. In a navy-blue suit, offset by an open white shirt, he’s more akin to a model than a mere mortal man. His hair is slicked back and impeccable, and his eyes seem to be undressing me or are those just my hopes being projected on him.
“You’re early,” he says as he slips into his chair.
“Maybe you’re late,” I quip back as I sip my drink.
He isn’t late. He is actually right on time. Perfectly so, as if he has been waiting outside for the clock to strike six.
“It’s possible, but unlikely,” he says, not in the least bit put off by my attitude. “And you started without me.”
“Oh this?” I ask, pushing my half empty glass across the table. “I got sick of waiting.”
“I’ll try to improve for next time.”
“Next time?” I ask, raising my eyebrow in an exaggerated fashion.
“Unless I’m getting ahead of myself. But I contacted my fortune-teller earlier, and she assured me that this wasn’t going to be a one-time thing.”
“I think you should fire her,” I say, working hard to hide my smile. “She’s clearly a fraud.”
“So, Carrie, you’re saying that I’m not going to discover the cure for cancer tomorrow? How disappointing.”
He is unflappable. Everything that I say, he seems to have an answer for. But more than that, everything he says, I seem to have an answer for, too. I have never felt such a connection with a date as quickly as I do with him.
“How about you concentrate on the task at hand, Blake? That is keeping me entertained. You can worry about cancer tomorrow.”
“Deal,” he responds, smirking to himself as he does.
The banter doesn’t stop there. As the night progresses, our appetizers are replaced by our entrees, and those are replaced by dessert. Things between us only seem to escalate.
When we first had drinks, I thought that maybe Blake was just having a good night. But as we eat dinner, here and now, I can see that this is just his personality, calm, cool and oh so confident. And despite myself, I’m finding it harder and harder to resist him.
“So,” he begins as our desserts arrive. He wears the same attractive smirk that he has all night. It is clear that he knows what it does to those around him, especially women and he is obviously determined to use it on me. “What are your plans for the rest of the night?”
“Tonight? Nothing. But tomorrow, I told you already. I have that early start.”
I look away from him as I speak. I can’t look into his eyes. If I do, I know I will become lost and will thus find it a heck of a lot harder to say no to him.
“Oh, perfect. So, you’re free after dinner, then?”
“Technically speaking.”
There is a piece of chocolate cake in front of me that I am trying hard to resist as well. But I realize that I can use it to my advantage. I scoop a portion onto my fork, making sure to all but suck it off the end. My lips press out as I do.
“Does that mean you’re going to join me for a drink?” He leans in, speaking at just above a whisper. The restaurant is crowded, but all that n
oise is barely registering on me. Like a viper dancing before its master, Blake has hypnotized me.
“What do you think?” I say, swallowing the cake, nice and slow.
“I think you’re going to.” He smiles a little as he speaks. As if he knows the answer before I even say it.
“Again, I’m going to suggest that you fire that fortune-teller of yours because there’s no way that I’m coming back to your place.”
I don’t look at him as I speak, but somehow, I’ve managed to resist him, even though I hate myself at the moment.
“She will be disappointed. But not as much as me.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage,” I say, smirking to myself.
I couldn’t be prouder of the self-control I’m exhibiting. Plus, something tells me that he isn’t used to be rejected. That thought fills me with indescribable warmth.
“I’m sure I will, Carrie.”
*
Blake drives a very modern, very expensive and very fast car. It’s one that I don’t recognize, and even as he tells me the name, it doesn’t ring a bell.
“So, this is you?” He asks as his car pulls up in front of my apartment building. It’s a small building, only housing four studio apartments. Mine is the smallest of the lot, too, and by the far the cheapest.
“This is me,” I confirm as I open the car door.
As I do, his hand reaches out and touches my shoulder. It sends a shiver up my spine as goosebumps break out across my skin.
“I’ll call you, okay?” He asks.
“I hope you do,” I say, smiling at him.
Then, just as I am about to climb from the car, his hand moves from my shoulder to behind my head. He pulls me to him, and I find myself moving. I can’t stop myself. I don’t want to stop.
I have been glancing at his lips all night, wondering what he tastes like. As our lips meet, I am not disappointed. I could kiss him for hours, days even. But I am playing a game, and at the moment, I am winning.
After no more than a second, I pull myself from his lips, offer him another smile, and climb from the car. Walking up to my apartment, I turn back slightly and offer him a short wave before disappearing.
