“Oh, I don’t know,” she says dripping with false innocence. “I think he wants more than your attention.”
I groan again, louder this time. “You’re just as bad as my mother. There’s nothing there. Ancient history.”
Marisa’s smirk grows impossibly wider. “You know, he was the one who called Ethan to tell him what happened. Then Ethan told him to call Jack and fill him in.”
“So much for sibling code,” I mutter before taking another bite, busying myself with my food.
We sit in comfortable silence for a stretch, both of us focused on our meals. If I focus on my food, then I won’t think about him. I won’t replay in my head over and over again the feel of his warm sturdy hands, his breath on my skin, how he felt familiar and new all at once. I don’t know why he moved back, but I’ve been off-balance ever since. There was a time when I couldn’t imagine living without him, until I forced myself to. But now? Living in the same town as nothing but strangers, with enough history to fill a text-book, it’s somehow worse.
Marisa’s face flushes as she looks at me through her lashes, her phone clutched in her hands. So much for comfortable silence.
“Was it hot…when he cuffed you?” she whispers, glancing at the doorway as if someone might hear her.
I drop my head into my hands, a combination of frustration and wanting to laugh, because what the hell kind of question is that?
“No, it’s not like I was checking him out while he wasarrestingme!”
She giggles and turns her phone to face me. On it are several different kinds of handcuffs. The furry kind. The kindnot used by cops.
That’s when it dawns on me—she’s asking for herself.
“How many times do I have to remind you to not tell me about the freaky shit you guys are into? I’d rather not lose my lunch.”
She snickers. “It’s not my fault my only friends here are related to my boyfriend. You guys just need to suck it up.”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes at her, shaking my head with a laugh.
Obviously, I was too angry with Dominic to think beyond the shock of being arrested, but later that night, once I was home, yeah…it was pretty hot. Not that I’ll ever admit it out loud. I hate myself for that. And I hate myself even more that I thought about it while using one of the several battery powered boyfriends I keep in my nightstand. There’s something seriously wrong with me.
Marisa raises a brow at me, her tone losing its teasing edge. “You know, if he still cared enough to call someone for you, maybe it’s not exactly ancient history. He could’ve just let you rot. Who knows how long it would’ve taken for them to give you your one phone call if he hadn’t been there?”
She’s trying to make him seem like the hero, when really I should’ve been allowed a phone call after I was processed, but for whatever reason a deputy took me straight back to a cell. I’m not super well-versed in criminal law, but I know that much at least. Being a documentary connoisseur like myself will teach you a thing or two.
Marisa is being way too reasonable and logical about this whole thing, when I would much rather stew about it until I turn bitter and no longer fantasize about Dominic in that skin-tight uniform. It’s like he knows he looks good in it. If she keeps talking, my already thin resolve will crumble—and I can’t let that happen.
“I’m sure Ethan is super sad that you’re with me instead of him. Maybe you should go cheer him up.”
Her lips purse slightly as she levels me with a pointed stare, but she’s smart enough to take the hint, and stands to leave. “Alright, I’ll leave you alone.”
“Bye, Marisa.” I flash her a smile.
She stands in the doorway, her probing gaze seeing beyond my false easiness. “If the roles were reversed, you would be relentless.”
As she turns to go down the hallway, I shout out, “good thing you’re not me, then!”
Rather than be alone with my thoughts, I text Scottie.
Thank you for the flowers!!
SCOTTIE
What flowers?
The roses…
SCOTTIE
Babe I didn’t send you any flowers. Must be from a secret admirer
