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Misha huffed. “Nah. Steph was like the sweetest parasite. The kind that clings on to you and never lets go.”
Well, wasn’t it how I’d described her?
Misha turned his head, following the sound of the percussion, and sighed. “You know what it’s like to grow up with two dads?”
“Two would be overkill.” Let’s start with the one who didn’t give a fuck. “My dad isn’t in the picture.”
Misha apologetically tilted his head.
“I don’t care what anyone prefers. My coworker is gay.” And fabulous. “And I’ve never seen such a tight booty in my life.”
That earned a whisper of a smile. Misha shook his head, ruffling his free hand through his long blond hair. “That’s a specific choice of sexuality, though.”
“Isn’t yours?”
Misha was beating around the bush. You weren’t friends with the Volt boys for ten years if you couldn’t handle the truth.
With the screen lying up, I saw a message had lit up Misha’s phone. We both looked up.
Ares: Passed level eighteen. This game is sick.
Ares: You know what else is sick?
No, I did not.
But I wasn’t entirely feeling guilty for intruding.
Ares: Taking things from me behind my back. Twice.
That had a double entendre to it. I didn’t want to assume it was about me. But it nagged at the back of my mind.
Misha’s hand came down to turn over his phone, blocking us from any other incoming texts. His knuckles rapped against the polished wood. He was agitated, although he kept a straight face.
There was a silent threat in those messages, but he kept his wits. Probably because he was used to them. Ares liked to control things in a certain way.
“He’s sensitive in that particular area,” Misha explained, as if needing to apologize in behalf of Ares. “Look, I came here with the wrong intentions, Dita.”
Ah, there it was.
My elbow hit the table and rested my chin on my knuckled fist. I had started thumbing his hand in the process. Partly securing my friendship toward him, and partly because he had such a drag of a neighbor.
“What is that?”
“I wanted to get to know you better,” Misha disclosed, turning that smoldering heat of his eyes on me.
My lower lip stuck out in confusion. Didn’t seem anything wrong with that.
“Most of the time I prefer quantity instead of quality, but… you’re quality, babe. And someone’s having the same stupendous idea. Snatched you right in front of my fucking face.” He nodded his chin at his phone. “That kind of solidified it.
I lifted my head. The pang in my chest was uncalled for. I’d enjoyed this date so far, even if there was no future in it. Not even casual sex.
Quantity over quality stuck. As did the number of private parts I saw penciled down that morning. How far were these elements entwined?
I downplayed everything a bit.
“Still as free as a bird.” I chugged down another mouthful of the sweet cocktail.
“Chirp chirp, little hummingbird.” Misha winked and checked his surroundings when the Latina behind the mic announced a new song. The sensuality of the scenery flowed over into Misha’s eyes.
