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Chapter Eight
Bryant
My phone vibrates in my pocket as I close in on Tynleigh's apartment door. I glance at the screen quickly; Joel's name popping up on the front. I haven't talked to him since he left the apartment earlier today. I slide it out of my pocket, stopping in front of the door.
Joel:Send me a tit pic . . . or a pussy. That's even better. I may need blackmail material for later.
I smile, before quickly responding.
Me:Fuck off.
Joel:You're no fun. Sharing is caring. I'll settle for a bare ass.
Me:Some things I want for myself.
Joel:Not unless you're in love. You, fucker, are not in love.
Me:Still not sending nude shots . . .
Joel:Pussy. Never stopped you in the past . . .
Me:Asshole. Not this time. Take care of yourself. See you in the AM?
Joel:Depends. I need material for my spank bank. Nothing better than Saxton's sister.
Me:Negative.
Joel:Should have been me.
Me:I saw her first. Gotta go. Call me if you need me. Don't do anything reckless.
Joel:I make no promises.
I exhale, shaking my head as I lock my phone and slide it back in my pocket. He exhausts me, but I love him like a brother. As I lift my fist to knock on the door it opens. "You're late."
"What?" I ask, caught off guard. "It's just now seven."
"In my world if you're not five minutes early you're late. Where are we going?"
She shuts the door behind her. "That must be a girl thing."
My eyes finally focus on the petite fireball at the door. Damn. Jeans that fit just right. Tight. A flowy black shirt made out of a material unknown to men, with only one sleeve covering the entire arm in a loose belled out way, the other shoulder and arm exposed completely. She's wearing some kind of wedge shoe, making her taller, open toe with red peeking out of the ends. Her feet are obviously so small that the bottom of her jeans covers most of her foot. The girl has a body that should be illegal. "Are you going to stand there and gawk or tell me where you're taking me?"
I finally glance at her face; right at the time she flips her curled hair over the covered shoulder, leaving the other bare. The hint of nervousness is present, making me smile, and leaving me a tad confused. Compared to last night this version of her has a shy undertone. An interesting observation. I think her bold, sarcastic personality may be a little bit of a cover-up. "You're doing that thing again."
"Thing? What thing?"
"That controlling shit." The slight laugh slips with the last word. I take two steps forward, pinning her to the closed door. "I thought we left that at the bar."
Her dimples I just noticed this morning show up with the smile evolving. "You brought the asshole. Why should I leave behind the control freak?"
I lean in, picking up on her slightly erratic breathing. "Fair enough," I say, and then I kiss her to calm her the fuck down. Otherwise, this is going to be a long night, and not in the sense I was planning.
Tynleigh
I find a recliner seat in the empty theater; middle from all directions, where I always sit. My soda quickly finds its way into the cup holder on the chair's arm. I'm usually by myself for this. It's one thing I've always liked—seeing a movie alone. There is something oddly relaxing about it, and another person isn’t there to bother you. We still have a little while until the movie starts, meaning there are no distractions, like previews.
Great.
