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“Out where? Didn’t you get my text, Addie? I texted you five minutes after we talked to say the DJ had cancelled and we shouldn’t bother because without him it would be a rubbish night.”
“No! I did not get your text. I’ve been waiting for you for over an hour Cara. And if it wasn’t for Simon I would have probably called the police by now and filed a missing person’s report!” I shout into the phone.
“You can’t do that unless someone’s actually missing, Addie. Who is being dramatic now?” I hear a rustling sound like she is sitting up in bed. “I am sorry… Wait, did you say Simon?”
“Yes, I did. But I am not talking to you now. I am going home.”
“Addie, wait, did you say Simon? Holy shit, girl, it sounds like I made your night. Tell me!” She is cackles into the phone.
“Fuck off!” I hang up and hand Simon his phone.
He is watching me with something akin to wonder on his face. “What?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. I take it Cara’s fine?”
“Yes, she is great, in bed, actually. Where I should be.”
Without missing a beat Simon unlocks his phone. “Where do you live? I can take you home.” When I don’t respond right away, he sighs and adds, “Or, I can call you cab.”
Without any hesitation this time, I rattle off my address. He slides his big thumb across the screen and all I can think is how they would feel swiping across my nipples. And then my nipples, as if they are wondering too, are throbbing and hard. And of course, tonight the barely there bra I am wearing underneath my clinging top will do nothing to hide this from him.
What the hell is wrong with me? This is the last thing I need.
He puts his phone back in his pocket. “They say it will be about ten minutes. Want some company while you wait?”
He says this with an easy smile I find disconcerting. I’m not sure I want to spend another minute with him. I also don’t want to wait on this corner by myself. Common sense wins the battle. “Thank you. Yes, that would be great.”
He pulls his phone out to send a text. While his head is bent, I finally get a chance to really take him in. He is big. He’s about 6’4 and while he is trim, his body looks powerful. His long legs are clad in jeans that make me wonder how strong his legs must be. His waist is narrow and his stomach is completely flat. His chest and shoulders are wide and his arms are long and stretch the seams of his sleeves as he reaches around to put his phone back in his back pocket.
“Addie.” He says my name almost like he’s asking a question. And I love the way he savors the “d” when she speaks. “You’re American?” He asks. A wicked grin spreads across his face as he takes in my blatant perusal of his body.
I blush, but decide to ignore his amusement and answer the question. “Well, I was born there. My father’s parents were Syrian, but he was born in the United States. My mother was born and raised in Ghana and moved to The States to go to law school.”
He doesn’t say anything, but bursts out laughing. I am bewildered.
When he sees the confusion in my face, he says, “My father is from Ghana and my mother is from England.”
“No way!” I exclaim and I laugh, too. What are the chances?
“Do your parents live in the States?” he asks, still laughing.
“No, well, my father is dead. My mother lives in Maryland.” The lie rolls off my tongue with practiced ease. My voice is flat and my good humor completely extinguished.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked so flippantly.”
“No, it’s okay. You couldn’t have known. It has been a long time. I don’t even miss him anymore.”
His gaze turns quizzical at that.
Then he looks at me with serious eyes and says, “Well, I never knew my father and my mother is in jail.”
And now I feel like a jackass because he has just told me his family’s story because he thinks I’ve told him mine.
“I’m sorry, Simon.” I reach out and put my hand on his arm.
As soon as I do that, the air around us sparks. I feel a tingle start in my fingertips and move up my arm, down my torso, and straight to the center of me.
He still doesn’t speak, but his gaze is no longer calm, it is turbulent and piercing. My face starts to heat. I remove my hand from his arm and reach up to tuck a nonexistent stray hair back into my ponytail. His eyes follow the movement of my hand. He shakes his head, as if to clear it, but takes a step closer to me, and starts to talk again.
