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“No,” she retorts. “I noticed the guitar on the way out because it almost tripped me up, but excuse me for being too focused on—”
“On getting yourself off?” I smirk.
She glowers at me. “I was distracted by the view.”
“Yeah. So was I,” I grin.
Well, I would’ve been distracted if I’d been lucky enough to walk in on that.
Instead, all I get is rehab.
“Look, I just don’t want you thinking it was you that I was…when I…” She stops talking as her cheeks redden.
I laugh. “While you were slipping a finger inside yourself?” I shake my head sadly. “I’m kind of hurt that I wasn’t in your thoughts. Here I was thinking I was special.”
“Oh, you are special, just not in a good way,” she assures me.
“Hey, thanks for not telling anyone…well, you know,” she mutters.
“You mean aside from the two page expose I sold to Venezuelan Popstars?” I do my best to keep a straight face while she peers at me, trying to work out if I’m serious or not. I chuckle when I can’t take it anymore. Her face relaxes.
“Is there even such a thing as Venezuelan Popstars?” she asks.
“Probably not,” I admit. “But if there was, I like to think that this is just the kind of story they’d go for.”
“And you’re just the kind of star they’d be all over,” she giggles. Her phone buzzes. She pulls it out of her pocket and curses at the screen. “My break is over,” she explains when I raise my eyebrows.
“You spent your whole break in here with me? I’m flattered,” I grin.
“Don’t be,” she retorts. “You’re part of my job. Remember?”
I shrug. I didn’t remember her job involving spending her own time with me.
She gives me a tight smile before letting herself out. When she’s gone, I dig out my phone from my pocket and try calling Brix again. Hannah’s visit has left me in a better mood, but I’m still annoyed he hasn’t called me back. I’ve called him a few times now and left messages, but he hadn’t gotten back to me. As if on cue, the phone vibrates in my hand. I’m convinced it’s our twin connection when I see it’s Brix.
“Hey,” I say. “Did you know I wanted to speak to you?”
“The fifty missed calls kind of clued me in, yeah,” comes his smartass reply. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” I hesitate, not wanting to make it a big deal. “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay and see when we are switching back.”
“I need a few more days,” he says.
“A few more?” I ask, annoyed. “You said two days and now you want another three? The rate we’re going, I’ll be doing all your time.”
“Does it really make that much of a difference?”
“Yes,” I say. “I’m trying to run a business, you know.”
“Which I said I'd handle,” he snaps.
“And have you been handling it?” I ask. “How many cars have you fixed?” I taunt. “Better yet, how many times have you gone into the workshop. I'm going to take a guess and say none.”
“Did you call me up just have a go at me?” he growls.
“No.” I match his tone. “You called me.”
“Right,” he murmurs. “Look, I’m sorry this is taking longer than I thought. It won’t be for much longer. I promise. How are things going there? And that hot little nurse? She sent me a wicked selfie.”
“Hannah?” I say. “When?”
“Yesterday. I’ll send it to you, but fuck, it was hot.”
“Speaking of Hannah, a little warning would've been nice,” I growl into the phone.
“What do you mean?” Brix asks innocently.
“She’s the chick who got off on your bed,” I say. “Why did you let me think you’d hooked up with her?”
“How can you be sure I didn’t?” Brix chuckles.
I hesitate. Do I say something or let it slide? I decide on the latter, because it’s something I need to ask him face to face. Hell, maybe what I need to do is hire the guy a dude for the night, hand him some condoms, slap him on the back, and tell him to have fun. That would get the message across to him, right?
“You should’ve seen her face when she saw me standing there,” Brix chuckles. “Hey, I can run through exactly what she was doing if you want. Give you some fresh material to jerk yourself off to? I imagine it’s been a while between—"
“Are you done?” I snap.
I’m not sure why hearing him talk about her like that is irritating me so much, but it is.
“Jesus, what crawled up your ass? When did you get so soft?”
I swallow the comment, because I know I’ll regret it if I say what I’m thinking.
“It must be all the fucking connecting with my feelings shit I’ve had to listen to. I’ve had to sit through more therapy in the last few days than I’ve had my whole life. That’s saying something, considering our fucked up childhood.”
