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That’s not creepy at all. Yes, she’d completely understand the situation and remain calm.

I swipe out the only response I know will infuriate her further. With any luck, it’ll prove a distraction, stopping me from having to provide any real response.

It’s satisfactory.

Fuck you. Jackass.

Oh, we’re back to name calling.

Conor me surprised.

You knew I wanted it.

Yes. You always find the nicest things.

I chuckle at the thought of her sitting with her phone, plump lips puckering as she bites them. Her unconscious tick that sets my nerves on fire. When she doesn’t respond, my neck begins to burn with the urge to keep her talking. Unable to control myself, I shoot off another text, which will hopefully push her little temper over the edge.

You can come visit it anytime.

In my house. Which you know so well.

I don’t think my date would like that very much.

The edges of my vision darken. The only clear image in my sight is the text message across the screen. She’s doing this to punish me. I know she is. Her furious vindictive self can’t help it. If anyone so much as touches her, I’ll gladly cut the thread of what little morals I have to protect what’s mine.

What date?

When several minutes pass with no response, I begin to pace the length of my living room. I squeeze the phone so tightly it begins to shake. My molars scream from the pressure. I pour every ounce of thought I have into the universe, willing it to make her respond.

Still nothing.

Running my fingers through my hair, I let out a frustrated growl. Visions of her with another man flash across my mind. Touching her. Holding her. Kissing her.

Patience?!

…

Fucking answer me.

Three dots appear, then disappear. Next, three smileys appear on the screen.

I throw the phone across the room.

I thought we were making progress. Apparently not. Which means there’s only one thing left to do.

Grabbing my keys, I pull my jacket off the hook with so much force, the hook clammers to the floor. If she won’t take my warning seriously, perhaps she needs a fucking demonstration.

24

After checking my makeup one more time in the mirror, I pick up my phone. It’s been nearly twenty minutes without a response from Ethan. He must be very upset.

Chuckling, I head downstairs. I did what Zarya and Litza asked me to do—I waited a few days to calm down. Hilariously, those two days allowed me to form a little plan. Redirected rage plans are always so much fun.

Lights roll across the kitchen windows. Poking my fingers through the blinds, I see Carl’s car in the driveway. Right on time as always. He has been asking to take me out for a while now. I didn’t have any interest in him outside of work. Besides, he’s such a perfect buffer at work events, it would be terrible to ruin a good thing. Turning him down was becoming a bit too difficult. I was entering awkward territory. This way, I can turn Carl down nicely and annoy the hot jackass. The Oscar goes to…me…cause I’m a fucking genius.

Smiling like a schoolgirl receiving a gold star for her efforts, I kiss Gerald and head to the front door.

My foot taps on the floor as I wait for Carl.