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Ava lets out a dramatic groan. “Here I was getting all excited that you were going to get laid.”
I continue to sift through the clothes but ignore her comment.
“This was like earlier in the night, when I was trying to set up Masen with this model I know. I mean, she’s so his type. He was so blah about it.”
My lips flatten, but I can’t help myself. “Masen has a type?”
“One word for you, bimbo.”
“Oh,” I mouth, suddenly feeling like an idiot.
Ava begins to take dresses out for me to try on, but my phone pings in my pocket. I pull it out to read the text.
Masen:Who are you going on a date with?
I read the question again, wondering why he cares, and quickly type back as Ava is rambling about my so-called perfect breasts.
Me:Does it matter? I’m sure you spend your free time buried in other women.
I wait for his response, but it never comes, so I focus my attention back on Ava. I decide to go for the red of all the dresses she pulls out.
We head back to the dining room, but Masen is nowhere to be seen.
“Masen had to leave. Something urgent came up,” Austin tells us.
“A vagina?” Ava muses, followed by a laugh. “That boy, honestly.”
“Leave him alone, he’s single, and he doesn’t need judgment from the women in his life.”
“Fine,” Ava complains, then licks her lips while rubbing her belly. “More food for me.”
Ten minutes later, I say goodbye, eager to be alone to process my thoughts without a two-year-old trying to climb on me. To add to that, my overbearing sister is trying to set me up with a guy who I’m certain is a virgin and has never been on a date before.
When I get into the car, I check my phone, but still no text. Not even a goodbye ‘I had to leave to be in someone else’s vagina.’ Argh, this is what happens when I’m around Ava for more than five minutes.
On the drive home, I crank up the music until I get into the underground parking lot of my apartment. I park in my usual spot, then turn the ignition off, resting my head against the seat for a moment. After a few deep breaths, willing this unknown feeling pressing on my chest to subside, I open the door and gasp.
“Oh my God,” I almost shout, clutching at my chest. “What are you doing here?”
Masen is leaning against his black sports car with sleeves rolled up and his arms crossed beneath his chest.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
I tilt my head in confusion. “Maybe I didn’t get the chance because you left again like the Phantom of the Opera. Is this your thing now? Up and leave without a goodbye?”
He drops his gaze to the garage floor, then raises his eyes at a slow pace until they meet with mine.
“Addison,”he grits.
I move closer to him, fueled by anger like his behavior is acceptable.
“What? Say whatever it is you need to say. I’m a big girl and can handle the truth.”
His hand reaches out for the top of my sweatpants, pulling me into him as our lips crash together. I let out a moan, pressing my hands on his chest while our tongues battle feverishly. The heat of his skin against my stomach ignites desperation within me to have his touch all over me.
We both pull away at the same time, out of breath. Slowly, Masen traces his finger up my chest until he reaches my face. At a slow and agonizing pace, he runs his thumb along my bottom lip.
“I believe we agreed to you returning the favor,” he murmurs.
