Ayla whipped around, her brown hair falling over her shoulders in slow motion, and slowly stepped back from Antoine. Antoine’s hand still lingered on her hip. He looked annoyed at the interruption.
I couldn’t believe Kevin had done that. I would’ve been fine just ignoring them and hurrying into the refuge of his apartment. They never would’ve even seen us. It would’ve been fine. I thought we were having such a lovely night, too.
Kevin slipped his hands around my waist, pulling me closer to him. It was the first time he’d really touched me all night. Now he was acting like we were a couple or something. Were we? I was so confused.
“Ayla, Antoine,” Kevin said as he stood next to me. He slipped his hands all the way around my waist, locking them together.
“We were just on our way,” Ayla said. “Come on, Antoine.”
Ayla grabbed Antoine by the hand. He didn’t even look at me. Not even once. They left the building in a hurry, practically running down the steps, and within seconds they were out of sight.
Kevin let us into his apartment, but by then I was seething.
“What the hell was that about?” I asked with my hands on my hips. I hoped I wasn’t being too girlfriend-y, but at that point I didn’t care.
“What do you mean?” He played dumb.
“Why’d you interrupt them?” I asked. “And then put your hands all over me. What kind of sick, twisted game are you trying to play?”
He shook his head, acting like he hadn’t the slightest clue what I was talking about, and kicked his shoes off.
“Want some pie?” he asked as he tried to change the subject.
I wondered if I was nothing more than a pawn to him. Maybe he did date Ayla before. Maybe he was in love with her. Maybe he was an obsessed fan. Maybe he was just using me to make her jealous.
I stood in his doorway, not bothering to remove my shoes. I wasn’t sure if I was even going to stay.
“Pie?” he asked as he nodded towards the kitchen.
“I should probably go home,” I said. “I think I have a headache or something.”
He stood dumbfounded as I flung the door open and slammed it behind me.
CHAPTER 16
“What the hell, LaLa?” I said to her over breakfast Saturday morning. I’d gotten up early that morning, unable to think or relax enough to even sleep in. I sat out in the living room and waited for her to get back from Demarius’s. The moment she walked in, I pounced on her and made her sit down and talk to me.
“Good morning to you too?” LaLa said, confused.
“I have to talk to you now,” I said. “It can’t wait. You’re never here anymore, and I don’t have anyone to talk to. You’re my voice of reason, and you’re never home.”
LaLa laughed. “Sorry?”
She took a seat next to me on the couch.
“Okay, calm down,” she said. “I assume this either has to do with Antoine or Kevin?”
“Kevin,” I said. “I thought things were going so well, but he’s so hot and cold with me. He says he wants to take things slow, but then he makes all these plans with me and sends me flowers and stays over and makes me dinner.”
“Typical asshole guy. Just doesn’t know what he wants,” she said. “Maybe he’s stringing you along until something better turns up? No offense. Some guys do that, you know.”
Good old LaLa. I could always count on her to tell it like it was.
“Then why put all the effort into it?” I said. “It’s exhausting sometimes.”
“Maybe he likes you but he’s afraid to get hurt?” she proposed. “It could be anything. Why don’t you just ask him?”
“I have!” I practically yelled at her, though my anger was clearly misdirected. “He either plays dumb or he has an explanation for everything.”
LaLa pursed her lips. “Maybe you should just cut your losses and go your own ways. Why waste all this time with him if he’s so hot and cold?”
“Because I like him,” I said. “Aside from all the bullshit, I really like him. He’s a gentleman. He’s thoughtful. He’s smart. And he’s so fucking hot.”
LaLa threw a throw pillow at me. “Then why even ask for my advice?”
“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I guess I just hoped you’d see it differently, maybe in a better light.”
“You’re asking the wrong girl,” LaLa laughed. “You know I don’t spin things that way.”
“I know,” I sighed, squishing the pillow into my lap. “Everything is always going so well between us until Ayla Giovanni is factored in. It’s like we run into her or we talk about her, and that’s when the fights happen. She’s the problem!”
“Yes, yes. Blame everything on Ayla,” LaLa said as she rolled her eyes. “Ayla stole Antoine, and now she’s ruining your relationship with Kevin. Of course. It makes perfect sense.”
“No, I’m serious,” I said with big, round eyes. “If I bring her up or if I talk about how he acts all weird around her, we fight. He closes up. He changes the subject. He acts like I’m being ridiculous or something.”
“Ah, I see,” LaLa said. “There’s got to be something going on between them. They must have a history together. People don’t act that way around people they don’t personally know. You’d be naïve to think otherwise.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s what I was afraid of. But I’ve asked him, and he says he won’t talk about his past girlfriends. He won’t confirm or deny ever having been involved with her. How do I find out?”
“Straight from the horse’s mouth,” LaLa replied as she sat up straight. She handed me my phone that was sitting next to her on the coffee table. “Call Ayla. Ask her to coffee. Get the dirt from her. She has no reason to lie about it, right?”
My mouth went dry at the thought of going behind Kevin’s back and contacting Ayla to find out if they ever dated. I was encroaching upon crazy girlfriend style behavior, something I swore I’d never do, but I had to know. I had to find out.
“Would you do this?” I asked LaLa. “If it involved Demarius?”
LaLa sat back for a minute and pursed her lips as she thought about it.
“Depends on how much I like the guy,” she said. “I like Demarius a lot. I think I’d want to know.”
I reached over and grabbed my phone, fingers a little shaky, and texted Ayla asking if she wanted to meet up for coffee in a little bit. I threw my phone across the bed as soon as the message was sent. As much as I didn’t want to spend time with her, it was going to be the only way I’d find out what the hell was going on.
“What if Kevin finds out about this?” LaLa asked. “I mean, I think you should still do it, but what would you say to him?”
“That’s easy,” I said. “I’d tell him it was casually brought up in conversation.”
“Makes sense,” she replied. “Your phone just went off.”
Ayla had responded almost right away, and I was shocked.
“She wants to meet up in a half hour. She’s got a busy day today,” I said as I read her message.
“Better get ready,” LaLa laughed.
I flew off the bed and began rifling through my closet to find something appropriate to wear. I threw my hair in a top knot, slicked on some tinted moisturizer, mascara and red lipstick, popped on some black, Audrey Hepburn-style sunnies and was out the door.
Ayla was already at the café when I got there, and of course she was already sipping a steaming cup of coffee and flipping through her phone.
“Hi,” I said as I plastered the biggest smile on my face. I had to play extra nice that day if I wanted her to open up to me.
“Hey,” she said with a tepid smile.
I ordered my drink then sat down next to her.
“So what’s this about?” she asked. She clearly wasn’t one to beat around the bush.
“Oh,” I replied, taken off guard. “I was just bored and wanted someone to get coffee with.”
I was a horrible liar, and I knew it.
She g
lanced down at her watch. “I have to be back at the station in a half hour. Just so you know.”
“I didn’t realize you were on weekends,” I said as my coffee was finally delivered.
“Just this weekend. Filling in for someone.” She raised her mug to her lips, which I then noticed were shellacked with thick, fuchsia lipstick. Her foundation was caked on as well. She had definitely taken time out of her morning to leave the station and meet me here, and she didn’t have to do that.
“I love your dress,” I said as my eyes were mesmerized by the swirls of bright colors that seemed to play off her tan skin just perfectly.
“Thanks,” she said as she stared off. “Vintage Pucci. It was my mother’s.”
“Nice,” I said. I could only imagine the closet she’d have inherited from a supermodel mom.
“So,” I said, sipping steamy liquid from my cup. “I have a random thing to ask you about.”
Her body turned towards me, and she was engaged for once. “Nothing’s random.”
“This is going to seem really weird,” I said as a sheepish smile formed across my lips. “Do you and Kevin know each other?”
Her face suddenly went from bland and unexpressive to twisted and curious.
“Yeah,” she said as her eyes squinted a bit. “Did he not mention that to you?”
“No,” I replied. I could feel my face getting red and my insides starting to burn hot. “He didn’t.”
Ayla tossed her shiny, brown hair over her shoulder and cocked her head back, cracking a sinister smile.
“We dated,” she said. She licked her lips before adding, “He was sort of obsessed with me after I dumped him.”
I felt like I’d been sucker punched right in the gut. I had suspected that to be the case, but I never thought about how I’d feel if I found out it was really true.
“How long did you two date?” I asked.
“Not long at all,” she said. “Maybe three or four months. He just wasn’t my type.”
I wondered how Kevin could not be someone’s type. He was gorgeous. He was smart. He was a freaking detective. It didn’t get much hotter than that. Just thinking about those lips and those broad shoulders and that lush head of hair kept me up all night some nights. And he had manners to boot. He was the total package.
“He was fine at first, but then he just sort of creeped me out,” she said. “Like he knew things about me that I’d never told him.”
“Yeah, but don’t you think this day and age that’s pretty common?” I replied, sticking up for him. I refused to believe Kevin was any sort of creep. “You can find out anything about anyone on the internet.”
“I’m not talking about addresses and phone numbers,” she replied. “I’m talking about what I’d had for breakfast or who I’d had lunch with that day. It just got to be too much.”
I felt sick as the coffee sloshed around in my unsettled stomach. This was not good.
“How long ago did you date?” I asked.
“I dumped him right before I met Antoine, so maybe a little over a year ago?” she said as she stared up at the ceiling. “Yeah, that should be right.”
“So you only dated for a few months, and a year later he’s still not over you. Are you sure?” I asked.
“Think what you want about him,” she said as she shrugged. “I guess I just find it odd that he moved into my apartment building six months ago and just so happened to get the apartment right across from mine.”
I stared down at the table. Out of all the apartment buildings in the city, it did seem rather odd that he’d just happen to pick hers.
“He tries to act all casual around me,” she said. “But I can still see it in his eyes. That crazy side of him. That look he gave me when I dumped him. Gives me chills to this day.”
“So why did you agree to go out with us that night after the banquet?” I asked. “If he’s this psychotic stalker that gives you the creeps?”
She took a defensive stance and sat up straight. “I did it for Julianne. I’d do anything for her. Plus it was such an awkward conversation to have right then and there. What could I do?”
She had a point.
“Look,” she said. “I don’t mean to burst your bubble. I’m sure you think he’s great and all, but all I know is Antoine and I are moving out the minute my lease is up. Kevin needs to move on.”
She looked down at her watch.
“I have to get going,” she said as she took a final sip of her coffee.
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks for meeting up with me.”
She smiled briefly and fled the coffee shop. The meeting was over just as soon as it’d started, but I’d heard all I needed to know.
CHAPTER 17
“I knew it,” I seethed as I flung the door open to our apartment and threw my purse down on the chair.
“What?” LaLa asked, looking up from the T.V. “How’d it go?”
“Kevin for sure dated Ayla,” I said. “And he pretty much stalked her. He moved into her apartment building to be closer to her, for crying out loud. Who the hell does that?”
“Huh,” LaLa replied as she raised one eyebrow. “That is pretty disturbing, but everything sort of makes sense now.”
“They only dated a few months,” I said. “Over a year ago. And he’s still hung up on her.”
“Let’s be honest,” she replied. “A lot of guys seem to have a hard time getting over her. She’s gorgeous.”
“You’re not helping,” I said as I plopped down.
“Even Demarius brings her up from time to time,” she replied.
“And it doesn’t bother you?”
“No,” she said. “It did at first, but I know he doesn’t have an ice cube’s chance in Hell at ever getting back with her. And he knows that. And it’s not like he talks about her all the time. He talks about her like you’d talk about an old friend.”
“Wow,” I said. “Good for you for being cool about it.”
“He doesn’t get weird about her like Kevin does, though,” LaLa added. “If he got all weird about her, then that would raise a flag to me.”
I let out an exasperated sigh and covered my face with my hands.
“What do I do now?” I asked. “I really, really like him, Claud.”
“I know you do,” she said in the most pitiful voice I’d ever heard. “Your phone just went off.”
“You and your superhero hearing abilities,” I said as I fished around in my purse for my phone. “It’s a text. From Kevin.”
“Oh, geez,” LaLa said as she rolled her eyes. “And it says?”
IS EVERYTHING OKAY? CAN WE TALK?
I read it aloud to her.
“What are you going to say?” she asked. “Do you even want to talk to him?”
“I don’t know,” I said as I bit my nails. “I don’t know if I can believe anything he says anymore.”
“Well, he didn’t exactly lie to you about Ayla,” she said.
“He lied by omission. Same thing,” I countered.
“True.”
Without giving it another thought, I reached down and shut my phone off.
“I’m taking a technology hiatus for a while,” I said.
“Good for you,” LaLa said as she turned back to her T.V. show.
“Maybe that will teach him a thing or two,” I hoped out loud.
A part of me still didn’t want to believe that Kevin was a creep. I wanted to believe we could make it work and that we still had a chance, but I wasn’t going to be a pushover.
I climbed up from the chair and headed back to my room. I had laundry to do. I had books to catch up on. I wanted to go for a mind-clearing jog.
***[r11]
Monday morning couldn’t have started out any worse than it did. I’d forgotten to turn my alarm on the night before. When I woke up at 7:40, I scrambled out of bed as if the apartment was on fire and jumped in the shower. My hair was greasy from the weekend, but I didn’t have time to wash it and I refused to go to
work with wet hair. I doused it in dry shampoo, which only made it worse, and pulled it back into a disgustingly oily chignon.
I slipped on a pair of wrinkly slacks and a button down blouse, grabbed a granola bar and my purse, and headed to work.
I sneaked in the back door and stopped at the coffee station in the office. If anyone had noticed I wasn’t at my desk yet, maybe I could pretend I’d been getting coffee the whole time? Because everyone knows sometimes it can take an extra fifteen or twenty minutes to get coffee.
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