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It worked.
Well, not the ‘getting her into bed’ part. Although that was only because he brought her up short once he had her on the line.
She laughed at one of his jokes. He made a mildly suggestive comment and she shut down. He teased her about her reaction and made her laugh again. Within another sixty seconds she couldn’t take her eyes off of him.
It was like watching an elaborately choreographed dance. A mating dance.
And I went from unsure, to astonished, to boiling-hot furious over the course of it.
A running monologue kept spooling out in my head the entire time.
Wait… what is he doing?
Is he doing what I THINK he’s doing?
What the fuck – he IS doing what I think he’s doing!
He’s KNOWS I’m here, right?!
Why the FUCK is he DOING this?!
Just as they finished their interaction and she looked like she was about to hurdle the counter and jump his bones, I latched onto his arm like a tiger and dragged him off.
He went willingly, but he threw up a casual See ya! salute. “Catch you later!”
She stood there, her eyes open wide, her face like a little kid whose birthday gift had been taken away just as she was about to open it.
“What the fuck was that?!” I hissed, low enough where I hoped no one but Derek could hear me.
He played stupid. “What?”
“That!”
“You’re going to have to be a little more specific, babe.”
“You putting the moves on that – that woman!”
“Whaaat?!” he grinned, then shook his head like I had it all wrong. “No, no – that was just a little friendly flirting.”
“Friendly flirting is ‘that color looks nice on you.’ That was NOT friendly flirting.”
“Sure it wa– ”
“Why are you even fucking flirting in the first place?! And in front of me! Do you know how disrespectful that is?”
“To who?”
“To ME!”
He stared at me like I’d just grown a second head. “Are you serious?”
“No, I just like getting this angry and pissed off. Yes I’m fucking serious!”
There’s this Pixar short, One Man Band, where two dueling street musicians are pulling out all the stops to get a coin from a little girl. The big buff musician stumbles, makes a fool of himself, and falls all over his drums. The little girl looks over at the skinny musician, who rolls his eyes and gives this utter look of contempt that manages to combine What an idiot with Forget what you just saw even exists, because it was so beneath your notice.
Derek pretty much duplicated that look to a T. “That was nothing. That’s just what I do.”
‘That’s just what I do’ was bad enough.
But it was the look he gave me that enraged me.
“That’s just what you DO?!”
He frowned, like I was being totally unreasonable. “She totally acted like she didn’t know who I was!”
“SO?!”
“So… she knew. She was just playing hard to get, like she was all that.”
I could not understand him. It was like he was spouting gibberish – his lips were moving, but pure stupidity was coming out.
“…SO?!”
“So I spit some game at her to let her know what’s what. Jesus, Kaitlyn – that’s what I am.”
“What, an insecure man-whore who can’t bear that some chick doesn’t immediately fall all over herself to kiss your ass?”
As soon as I said it, I was sorry.
Not really sorry that I’d thought it. Just sorry that I’d said it out loud.
But I wasn’t about to back off now.
His expression – his whole demeanor – froze over. I could almost feel the ice form beneath my hand, under his leather jacket sleeve.
“What, are you such a little girl that you can’t handle me talking to another woman?”
“NO – I – that wasn’t just ‘talking’!”
“It was to me. And if you can’t handle it, that’s your problem, because I’m not about to change who I am just to make you feel better about yourself.”
And with that, he strode away, leaving me shocked and furious and alone, thinking, How the fuck did THAT just happen?! HE’S the bad guy here! How the hell did he just make ME the bad guy?!
We didn’t say anything the rest of the day. The silence was positively Arctic.
The rest of the band were obviously uncomfortable – Ryan especially, which I felt awful about for some reason.
Scratch that: the rest of the band was obviously uncomfortable, except for Riley, who treated us as a walking punch line. Every other comment out of her was a variation on, “Ooooh, D and Blondie are fighting – what’d you do?”
“What’d she do, D? Punch holes in your condoms? Is there gonna be a mini-D in nine months?
“What’d he do, Blondie? You catch him in a hot tub with a buncha hookers and a package of hot dogs? Oh wait, that was last month…
“What’d she do, D? Put her finger up your ass when you jizzed? Or not put her finger up your ass when you jizzed?
“What’d he do, Blondie? Did he finally admit he’s gay as fuck?”
Derek ignored her, so I did, too. (Even though some of what she said was pretty funny.)
You know when adults told you as a kid, if another kid is bugging you, to ignore them and they’ll leave you alone?
Those adults never met Riley.
Despite the cold shoulder we gave to her parade of one-liners, our coldness to each other was ten times worse. For the first time since we’d first hooked up, we didn’t sleep together that night.
We did in the morning – but it was more like hot, hate-fuck sex.
But that’s another story.
83
I woke up the next morning in his bed, and for one blissful moment I wasn’t mad.
I’d spent all day yesterday angry, had gone to bed angry, had lain in bed angry, and got angrier still when he fell asleep, obviously not bothered by what a colossal dick he’d been.
So for a few seconds I was just like, Ummm… it’s morning… wait… wasn’t I mad about something?
And BAM, just like that, I remembered it all, my adrenalin shot up, and I was angry again.
I lay there for a long time formulating a big speech. I was going to start it out with You may THINK it’s okay to do certain things, but it’s not. If I really AM your girlfriend, then you can’t just do whatever the hell you want.
And then I was going to go into a whole list of forbidden activities, listing why they were inappropriate, and what he should do instead.
And, of course, because I knew he was going to make a big You can’t tell me what to do scene like the asshole he was, I had my one-two punch ready.
Oh? You say you don’t WANT a girlfriend? Well, wish granted, asshole – you DON’T anymore.
And then I was going to storm out of the bed, gather up my things, and get the fuck out.
And he was going to come after me, apologizing, begging, getting down on his hands and knees –
What if he DOESN’T do that? I thought.
I didn’t really have an answer for that.
So I just stuck to crafting the perfect comeback.
And then he went and ruined it all by grabbing my boob.
I was lying there, silently seething, when his hand reached out and flopped on my right breast.
I was too surprised to say anything at first – I thought about looking over and seeing if it was intentional, or if he was still asleep – but then I felt the tip of his finger start lightly stroking me through the fabric of the t-shirt I’d worn to bed.
Ohhh, that was INTENTIONAL, all right.
But that thought came a few seconds after he started stroking me, because I was too shocked at first…
…and because I was turned on.
Let me be clear: I didn’t like being turned on. I was pissed off at myself for getting turned on. I was even more pissed off at him for turning me on.
But I guess I had so much energy in my system – and some sort of electrical charge from the jealousy – that I responded right away. Much to my chagrin.
My nipple almost immediately hardened, and I felt a hot, liquid caramel sensation down between my thighs.
Unnnhhh.
But he wasn’t getting none o’ that. After the way he’d treated me? No fuckin’ way, Jack. Unh-unh.
I grabbed his wrist and sternly placed it back on the sheets.
There were about ten seconds where I didn’t hear or feel anything else, so I figured he’d gotten the message.
Until I felt his finger caressing the side of my breast. Softly. Slowly.
I didn’t do anything because… well… I was kind of enjoying it.
Especially when he reached the nipple again, and gave it just the veeery slightest pinch. Not too hard, just… unnnhh.
Suddenly I felt the molten caramel in my thighs and belly, too, and it was like my entire body wanted to move the slightest bit as he tweaked my nipple, to follow the sensation, like he was guiding me towards him with the lightest of touches.
And then I got hold of my senses.
I grabbed his hand and flung it off me as hard as I could, like I was throwing a baseball, and turned over on my side, giving him my back.
I lay like that, furious that he was trying to have sex – sex! – when he’d pissed me off so badly and obviously didn’t GIVE a fuck about my feelings at all –
When I felt the tip of his finger softly touch my ass cheek and trace its way down the inside of my thigh.
