“Please don’t tell me you’re enjoying this,” I say with my eyes closed.
“Seeing you sick?” he asks. “No. Seeing you off your high horse for a minute? You better believe it.”
My eyes flash open at him. “My high horse? You should talk.”
“Oh, I’m not denying I have a seat right up there next to you,” he says.
“Well look who found their humble bone,” I tease.
“Says the girl who never admits anything,” he shoots back, and I look at him once more. “You don’t think I’m honest?” I ask.
“I never said that. But I do think you hide a lot of yourself,” he says. “I think you’re afraid to tell people how you really feel.”
“I’ve put you in your place a million times since we met,” I say.
“Sarcastically,” he says.
“Alright,” I nod. “Fine. If I play a little game with you, will you let me sleep off this hangover?”
“What’s the game?” he smirks.
“Truth or dare. Minus the dare. Ask me anything. Anything at all, and I’ll be honest. But you only get one question and then you turn off the lights,” I answer.
“Alright,” he nods. He’s sitting on the edge of my bed, leaning down over me. If I wasn’t on my deathbed, I might be turned on. He runs a hand through his hair, making the silver of his temples glisten in the lamplight. A few matching hairs making themselves known in the soft stubble on his chin. Suddenly his eyes light up and he smiles coyly down at me. “What’s your type?” he asks.
“My what?” I ask.
“Your type. What’s your type in men?”
“I guess that depends,” I say. “I like smart. Funny. Kind…”
“Oh, come on,” he says. “I suppose next you’re going to tell me you want someone who works hard but knows how to have fun. Brooding but playful.”
“I mean, that sounds nice,” I smile, knowing I’m driving him nuts.
“Come on. What do you like? Tall? Muscular? Lean? Clean cut? Tattooed? Suit and tie? Ripped jeans? Blonde? Dark?” he asks, and I wait a moment before locking my eyes on him with a small smile.
“I don’t care about any of that,” I say softly.
“No?” he asks. “So what do you care about then?”
“The only thing that matters, the thing that I can’t resist, is an older man,” I say before rolling over and closing my eyes. I bite back a smile until I hear him turn the lamp off and walk out. And while I still feel pretty crummy, I’m pretty sure I fall asleep still smiling.
Chapter 16
Zane
“Jett Navarro can packhis bags, even if it is all underwear. Because Zane Calloway is officially the most searched male model on the web,” Nigel says, handing me a glass of whiskey. I hold on to it, but I don’t take a sip. For one, whiskey is sugar, and it’s not even nine in the morning.
“What can I say? Women like consistency,” I say, setting the glass down.
“They also like a man they can call daddy,” Nigel says, and I’m glad I’m not drinking because if I was, I would have just spit it out in his face.
“What?” I ask.
“Older men. Men who are settled down, mature, and stable but still have better abs than Ryan Gosling,” he says. I get where he’s going with it now.
“Does Ryan Gosling still have good abs?” I ask, trading my whiskey for my coffee mug.
