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“No.” She pressed her chest against mine. “No, I am not f**king him, but you know what? I will be soon.”
“You have no reason to if I’m here.”
She burst into laughter and stepped back. “You think I would sleep with you? Seriously?”
“Aubrey—”
“Do you really think I’m that stupid?” She cut me off. “I don’t want anything to do with you, Andrew. You’re nothing but a muse for an orgasm, a good visual for a hand-fuck, and I may miss you, but—”
“You miss me?”
“I miss the idea of you—of what you could’ve been.”
“We can’t be friends?”
“We can’t be anything.” Her lips were close to mine.
“Why am I finding that hard to believe?”
“You shouldn’t.” She glared at me. “Because in order for me to ever entertain you outside of this dance, I would have to take you back.”
“Then take me back.”
“Please!” She scoffed, looking angrier than I’d ever seen her before. “You would have to beg me to take you back, Andrew. Fucking beg me…”
“Hey Aubs.” Her ballerina boyfriend interrupted us. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” She stepped away from me and kissed his cheek. “Everything is more than okay.”
“Who’s your friend?”
“No one,” she said. “Just some guy who made a donation.”
“Thank you for your donation.” He shook my hand like a woman and turned to Aubrey. “Are you ready to go home?”
“More than ready.” She took his hand and walked away from me without glancing back.
I stood on the balcony of my hotel room, completely confused about what had happened a few hours ago. I was expecting Aubrey to leave with me, to come back to my hotel so we could f**k and catch up.
Unable to stop thinking about it, I sent her an email:
Subject: Your Address.
We need to finish our conversation. Tell me where you live so I can come over and talk.
—Andrew.
Subject: Re: Your Address.
I highly doubt you only want to talk. You just want to f**k.
Nonetheless, I’m pretty sure Brian wouldn’t appreciate you coming over tonight.
—Aubrey.
Subject: Re: Re: Your Address.
He’s more than welcome to watch. He might actually learn something.
