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Nick: You're teasing.
Lizzy: You like it. What if he did? Flirting is normal. I used to flirt with every male customer at Pixie Dust. And any woman who showed interest.
Nick: Didn't that make you feel cheap?
Lizzy: I couldn't afford to care. I needed the commission.
Someone bumps into me, making me acutely aware that I am standing on the corner with a walk sign in front of me.
I press the phone against my chest as I cross the street. It buzzes with the next text message but I force myself to walk another three blocks before I look at it.
Lizzy: I should go. I'm walking home, and I'm going to walk straight into a pole. Plus, you have that meeting.
Nick: Did your sister pick out a dress?
Lizzy: It's beautiful. Perfect for her. I cried when I saw it.
Nick: You're sweet.
Lizzy: Agree to disagree.
Nick: Meet me tonight. For dinner and a movie. The Matrix is playing at a theater in Brooklyn.
Lizzy: And you didn't lead with that? Damn, Marlowe, I thought you were good at getting what you want. Just so you know, there will be no funny business during The Matrix.
Nick: Funny business?
Lizzy: Yes, funny business. You were a teenager once. I'm sure you at least made out in a movie theater.
Nick: At least?
Lizzy: You never did anything at a movie? Did you even have girlfriends in high school after everything that happened?
Nick: I'm not broken. You don't have to be careful with me.
Lizzy: Did you?
Nick: One. I moved so slowly that she told all her friends I was gay.
Lizzy: Get out.
Nick: It's true.
Lizzy: Did that bother you?
Nick: I didn't have anything to prove.
Lizzy: Did you ever tie her up or anything? I know that being dominant isn't caused by abuse or anything, but it seems like it helps you.
Nick: I didn't try that until I was older. At first, it was the only thing that could relax me enough to make it possible for me to enjoy sex. Then I started to like it. There's power when someone gives themselves to you willingly. The trust is intoxicating.
Lizzy: Are you trying to tease me, Marlowe?
Nick: Yes.
Lizzy: I should let you go. You have that meeting. I don't want to distract you with the mental image of me in your lap, my panties at my knees, your tie around my wrists.
Nick: Meet me for dinner at seven. Movie starts at eight.
Lizzy: Are you distracted?
Nick: Thoroughly.
Chapter Twenty-One
I meet Nick at a hole-in-the-wall Thai restaurant.
He's sitting in a booth in jeans and a purple t-shirt. It's so normal. He still looks handsome, of course, but like any especially attractive twentysomething guy in Brooklyn.
I sit across from him. "You own normal clothes."
"You need to work on your compliments."
I shrug.
"You look nice tonight."
"Thank you." I steal a sip of his whiskey. "How'd you get here so early? You usually work until eight."
"I was motivated." He pulls his drink to his side of the table. His eyes scan my neckline, stopping on the same spot that intrigued Kat.
The damn hickey.
Nick laughs. It's a big laugh, the biggest once I've heard from him.
"What is funny about this?" I ask.
"Nothing."
"You know how awkward it was when my sister asked how I got a hickey?"
"What did you tell her?"
I bite my tongue. Dammit. Our relationship is supposed to be a secret.
His eyes meet mine. "I wanted to keep this from Shepard. It doesn't matter who else knows."
"Good. I told her everything."
"Everything?" He raises an eyebrow.
"Not that part." I give the menu a cursory scan, but my heart is set on green curry shrimp. "Why do you want to keep this from Shepard?"
"I don't trust him not to hurt you."
"Have you considered trying to reconcile with him? Maybe he's mad about the rehab and not... everything else."
Nick's expression steels. "It won't matter. Once he has his mind set on something, he won't stop until he gets it."
"You don't begrudge his hatred?"
"I deserve worse."
"What if it is about Jasmine? If he really believes you stole her and he's really doing this to win her back?" There's almost something romantic about it—that Shepard is willing to do anything to win back the woman he loves.
Nick's eyes turn to the table. "Lizzy, I'm sure you have good intentions, but I didn't invite you out to talk about my brother." His cheeks flush with a hint of red. Like he's nervous. "I need a break from this."
"And I'm a convenient distraction?"
"No." He takes a long sip of his drink. "I need you."
He's blushing. Full-on blushing.
It makes me all warm and gooey inside. Phoenix Marlowe, billionaire programming genius, needs me.
"How do you need me?" I ask.
"Tied up with your legs spread."
Now I'm the one blushing. I stammer something incomprehensible. "I hope that was to prove a point."
He nods. "I care about you. More, even."
More even. Like that he loves me. He didn't say it, so I don't have to say it.
That warm feeling spreads through my belly. "I care about you too. Maybe even—"
The waitress, an Asian woman in her twenties, saves me from finishing my sentence. She drops off a Diet Coke and we order dinner.
My gaze goes to Nick. There are dark circles under his deep brown eyes. His shoulders are slumped. His scruff goes beyond five-o'clock shadow. He's tired.
We need the same thing—each other.
The thought engulfs me. I do need him. He's the only person, besides my sister, who understands me. Who sees the real me.
I slurp the last sip of my soda. "Let's play a game. I ask you a question, and you have to answer honestly. Then you ask me a question, and I have to answer honestly."
"How do you win?"
"Winning isn't the point."
He shakes his drink. "Then it isn't a game."
"Ugh. What a nerd." I curse his technical correctness. "It's like Tetris. You can't win. You can only lose."
He p
erks up, interested.
"You lose if you refuse to answer a question."
"Is anything off-limits?"
"Anything about Odyssey or Shepard, I guess."
Nick takes a sip and sets his drink to the side. He sits up straight, his eyes focused on me. "I'll give you the advantage. You can start."
"You're so generous." I rack my brain for a question. "Have you ever been in love with anyone?"
"No. Have you?"
"No. I liked my high school boyfriend, but I never felt like I could be myself with him. It was like my personality was too much—too aggressive or intense or something like that." I look into his deep brown eyes. "Why is it you don't trust anyone? Because of your step-dad or something else?"
"I trust you."
"With anything?"
He looks off towards the window like he's deep in thought. "Almost anything."
That warmth spreads all the way to my fingers and toes. I don't know anything about falling in love, but I do know trust.
And I can feel the intensity of our trust.
"I trust you too." I stammer the words. "With almost anything."
He stares into my eyes. It's like he's looking into my head.
Usually, that kind of thing would make me feel exposed.
But I like the way he does it. I like him knowing what's in my head, in my heart.
I want him to be happy.
I want to be around him.
Maybe I do love him.
His voice pulls me back to the table. I can contemplate my feelings for him later. Right now, he's here, and he's mine.
"You gave up on the world after that accident, didn't you?" he asks.
I nod. "I was never Miss Congeniality, but I trusted people before the accident. I trusted the world not to take everything I cared about." My gaze goes to the street outside. I don't talk about this with anyone, not even Kat. "At first, when I came out of the ICU, people were really supportive, visiting and bringing flowers, crying they were so happy I was okay. But it was all for show. The second things got hard, they were gone. Is that how it was when your mom died?"
He nods. "A lot of people promised to make her time worthwhile. But none of them stuck around past a hello and a cup of coffee. Not even her brother. They couldn't stand seeing her sick."
"What was her name?"
"Olivia."
"What was she like?"
"Loving. But her work always came first."
