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“I can’t imagine ever wanting to leave New York. It seems so perfect. And there’s just something about the lights and the lives of people who stay there, how they all must have these huge dreams and…”
I tuned her out and tossed back my shot. Her poetical waxing about that desolate place needed to be put to a stop. Fast.
“And wouldn’t the law firms in New York be far more alluring than the ones here?” She was still talking. “Like, one of my favorite—”
“What’s the name of that ballet you’re auditioning for this year?” I cut her off.
“Swan Lake.” She always dropped the subject if I said anything about ballet. “Why?”
“Just wondering. When is the audition?”
“A few months from now. I’m trying as hard as I can to balance my classes—” She cleared her throat. “I mean, I’m trying really hard to balance my case loads with my practice time.”
“Why don’t you just ask your boss if you can work weekends in exchange for a couple weekdays off?”
“I’m pretty sure that won’t work.”
“Of course it would work,” I said. “There’s a lawyer at my firm who works Saturdays through Wednesdays so he can pursue music. If the firm you work for is worth a damn, they’ll be flexible with you.”
“Yeah, um, I guess I’ll have to look into that…”
Silence.
“What firm do you work for?” I asked.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“What’s one of the partners’ names?”
“I can’t tell you that either.”
“But you can tell me how deep you want my c**k to be buried inside of you later tonight?”
She sucked in a short breath, a sexy sound that drove me insane the more I heard it.
“How much longer do you think I’m going to put up with just talking to you on the phone, Alyssa?”
“For as long as I want you to.” Her voice sounded more confident now.
“You think I’m going to talk to you for another month without being able to f**k you? Without being able to see you in person?”
“I think you’ll talk to me for several months without f**king me. As a matter of fact, I think you’ll talk to me for years without f**king me because I’m your friend, and friends—”
“If I haven’t f**ked you within the next month or two, we won’t be friends anymore.”
“You want to bet?”
“I don’t have to.” I hung up and grabbed my laptop, ready to give Date-Match another try. The second I clicked the prettiest woman on the page, an email from Alyssa popped onto my screen.
Subject: Trust Me.
You and I will still be friends a few months from now, and you’ll be completely okay with not seeing my face.
Watch.
—Alyssa.
Subject: Re: Trust Me.
