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“No, I don’t. Tomorrow is Saturday.”
“Fine, you have to study tomorrow.” He dropped the beer bottle in the infamous trashcan and sent me a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smirk.
Yep, not going after that one.
I sniffed at the milk and took a sip. It was good, just slightly warm, so I took another. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t goad him for acting as if I was too irresponsible to have a drink. “I have to work tomorrow too.”
“No.”
Now it was my turn to smirk, though the gesture was hollow at best. I wasn’t any more eager to return to the club than he was. It just felt like I had to. That if I didn’t, they’d have won.
What, I didn’t even know.
“I meant at the Salad Hut.”
“Oh.” He crossed his insanely tattooed arms, bringing my attention to what he was wearing. Or what he wasn’t, namely anything but his boxer briefs.
Was I seriously supposed to carry on a reasonable conversation with him when he wasn’t dressed?
“I was supposed to work at the club tonight,” I continued, studying the mug. Guess he was a Mets fan. “I swapped with another girl. I’m taking her shift next Thursday
.”
“Forget it.”
“Can’t. The Pyramid Club pays my tuition.”
He walked to the desk in the corner and turned back with a checkbook and pen in his hand. “How much do you owe?”
My eyebrows lifted. “Damn, I must be better in bed than I thought.”
“Consider it a loan.” He rolled right over my last statement. “We’ll figure out a way for you to pay me back.”
I set the mug on the nightstand. Rising, I let the handmade coverlet fall away. Gio was too busy studying his checkbook to notice me padding soundlessly toward him. He glanced up again as I grabbed the checkbook and tossed it behind me in the direction of the mattress.
I nudged him back against the desk. “I have an idea…”
Six
“Three times,” I said under my breath as I headed into the locker room at The Cage the next morning.
Once would’ve been bad enough. Once beyond the club, which was different for so many reasons.
Even a second time wouldn’t have been hard to believe, considering she was still unsettled and I knew part of her desire to be with me physically was to erase what had come before.
The third time, though, this morning before I drove her to the city—that had been ridiculous.
She wasn’t my girlfriend, and wouldn’t be. That wasn’t possible.
After the last round, we’d gone to the club to get her purse. I’d waited while she got what she needed out of her locker, then drove her home and parked around the block so she could tell her sister and Fox she’d spent the night at Jenna’s, as per the text she’d sent them at some point.
Good thing, because I didn’t think I could face them. Not for a good long while.
What had happened last night with Carly after the club hadn’t diminished what had occurred before. Knowing she didn’t hate me alleviated some of my guilt, but only some. There were debts that went beyond individual circumstance, and the one I’d incurred transcended us.
Her vision toward me wasn’t clear. Had never been clear. And vice versa. Having sex with her had only driven home how very wrong we were for each other.
I’d said she would be the death of me, but the truth was I’d be the death of her—unless I pushed her far away.
