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“No.”
“Why?” I ask.
“We haven’t finished shopping for the club,” he informs me.
“After that?”
“You are like a child, you know that? You just don’t stop.”
My phone dings and I look down at it. Bingo, looks like I might be getting that date after all.
“I need to be home by six,” I say, meeting Grayson’s gaze.
“Why?”
I smile at his curiosity. Maybe I am a bitch.
“I have a date.” It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date. Actually, I can’t remember the last time someone took me out.
“You don’t date.”
“Now I do.” Reaching for my drink, I watch him over the rim of the glass.
“Cancel it,” he snaps.
“Nope, I’m excited. This one seems nice.”
“He wants to fuck you,” he says, his knife and fork now discarded.
“And that’s so bad because?” I ask, confused that he, out of all people, would think it’s a problem. “You fuck. In fact, you fucked my roommate. What is it now…a month ago?”
“You made me hard. I needed my cock wet and didn’t want to ask you.”
I spit my drink out at his words.
Did he really just say that?
“You…what?” I ask, stunned. He has quite literally shocked me into momentary silence.
“I didn’t stutter.”
I put my hands up. “That’s wrong on so many levels,” I say, shaking my head.
“If you say so.”
My phone dings, and before I can do anything, Grayson reaches out and grabs it from me. I sit there as he reads the message and then looks at me. “He wants to fuck you.”
“So what?” I reach over the table for my phone as it dings again, but he pulls it back and reads the new message.
“And he’s a bit desperate if you ask me. He wants to know if you want to get ‘dessert’ after.” His eyes find mine, and he leans over and holds my phone out to me. “Where are you going?”
I reach out to take my phone from his grip, but he holds it tight.
“Where are you going?” he asks again, waiting for my reply with a fixed glare.
“A fancy restaurant,” I answer and pull my phone away from him. I scan the messages and cringe at the dessert one.
Surely it can’t be that bad. Can it?
I would hate to say he’s right.
Admitting he’s right would be the last thing I would want.
“Come on, I’d rather get this day over and done with,” he says suddenly, standing and putting a couple of hundred dollars down on the table to cover the bill.
I guess he feels the waitress could probably use a good tip after listening to the way we were talking.
