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“Oh, do you have plans? I’m so sorry.” Daphne’s hands fold over her chest. “I blurt a lot, and Dawson tells me I can be too friendly.” She laughs nervously.
I can understand it now, her charm and allure. And I haven’t had much girl time, except with those I work with or my sister. And let’s be real, I will probably go home and bake more treats if I don’t occupy my mind.
“Sure, I was just going to spend the day watching movies anyway. I can help.” She claps happily and hooks her arm through mine. I’m startled at first, but I just go with it. Unlike my sister, I’m not averse to physical touch, but I’m not usually so easygoing with strangers.
“Anyone who’s friends with Dawson is usually good people, and I can already tell that you’re super nice,” she says as she leads me in the direction of shops.
I consider asking if we should call a cab, but instead embrace the change of the day.
We endup in the shopping district in a store with brands I’ve never heard of. We’ve spoken mostly about trivial things up until this point, and, as promised, she purchased us a coffee from a cart, which isn’t half bad considering how horrible I find the coffee here. I do miss home for some things—especially coffee.
Daphne starts picking items off racks.
“So, who’s the lucky man tonight?” I ask, and it’s been a very real burning question from the start.
Is she seeing Dawson?
They have a contract, right?
It has to be Dawson.
A mischievous smile touches her lips as she appraises a dress and then puts it back. “It’s not Dawson if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I didn’t say that,” I let slip, almost too quickly. Daphne gives me a pointed look, and I avert my gaze.
“Well, yeah… I mean, you two have a contract and stuff, don’t you?” I ask casually.
“He told you about that, huh? How interesting.”
“Interesting?”
She seems to touch every single item, simply for the texture, but she’s only handed a few items to theclerk.
“You know, you aren’t Dawson’s usual type. But I can tell he looks at you differently.”
“Not his type?” I question, and she seems almost amused. But there are so many layers to Dawson that I don’t understand. And she seems to know him better—a lot better.
“Yes, he likesexperiencedwomen. Women who usually look like me.” She chuckles. “Not that you aren’t beautiful, because you are stunning.” I wish I had her confidence to so easily call myself beautiful and to say it so matter-of-factly. “But you also look soft, tender, sweet. Not his usual type.”
I’m a little offended. Not because it’s not the truth but because it hits the mark. It’s everything I’m trying to free myself from and become a better version of myself.
“And you don’t?” I ask. She’s bubbly, happy-go-lucky, and nice.
She scoffs. “No, I’m friendly and can be nice. But I’m harder around the edges. Just means I’ve been broken a few too many times.” She shrugs. “Plus, you’re a blonde, and he likes brunettes.” She chuckles. “Well, I guess that’s past tense now since he has a thing for you.”
I almost laugh, but keep it in. “Dawson has a thing for me?” Because I’m pretty sure he's found a way to escape every time we’ve almostmaybehad something. But the last time was definitely on me.
She walks into the change rooms and speaks over the door as I sit and wait.
“People have been talking all about you around his office, you know?”
“Why?”
I can hear that she’s struggling to do the zipper up as she speaks. “Because he never visits employees. He may pop in briefly to check on a store, but he’s visited your store more than once. That is unusual for him. But, anyway, changing the subject, what do you think of this?” Daphne steps out and twirls around in a circle while I focus on the task at hand and not Dawson.
“It’s for a date, right?” I ask, and she nods. “Do you plan to fuck him on the first night?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound too judgmental. She laughs, and I feel at ease being myself around her.
“Shit, you’re right.” I smile at her as she looks down at the outfit. The shirt she has on is basically a bra, and the skirt is so short that if she bends over even a fraction, I’ll be able to see her panties. “I’m not used to worrying about those things. With Dawson, I wore whatever because it all ended up on the floor.” She shrugs. A small twist of something knots my stomach.Jealousy?Which is so not okay, considering he’s not mine.
