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“I work for a marketing firm. Social media marketing for Fortune 500 companies.”
“Cool, cool.”
This is stupid. “What about you?”
“I’m a mechanic. My uncle owns a shop in town.”
I nod my head, unsure of what to say from here. Small talk is the last thing I expected to be doing with him, and that says a lot, considering this entire predicament has been one off-the-wall experience after another.
“How long were you and what’s-his-fuck together for?” he asks, breaking our current round of awkward silence.
I can’t help but laugh at the question, and this entire situation. “Almost five and a half years.”
“Where’d you meet?” He’s got both elbows propped on the chair, hands crossed over himself, watching me like I’m a science project he’s trying to figure out.
“College,” I reply. “We went to Washington State together and met our senior year.”
“Did you love him?”
“What kind of fucking question is that?” I scoff. “Of course, I loved him.”
“Did you, though?” He sits forward, elbows on his knees. “Or did you just like the idea of him? Of what he could be?”
“Fuck off,” I bite out.
“No, I’m serious, Travis.” Travis. “Five seconds in that guy’s presence and I could tell he wasn’t shit. Not someone you do long term with. And you, my boy, seem like someone who wants to do long term.”
“What the fuck do you know about long term?” I hate how defensive I feel right now, vulnerable, like all my flaws and insecurities are on display where he can see them.
“I’m just saying…” He shrugs. “You deserve someone who wants what you want.”
“What? And that’s you?” I laugh, immediately feeling dumb for saying that, because why the fuck would I assume he meant him?
“Maybe.” His eyes darken, not a smirk in sight on his usually cocky face. His stare is so intense, I have to fight to not squirm underneath it. My mouth dries, and I try to swallow against the lump that’s formed in my throat. Suddenly, the air feels thick for an entirely different reason.
Surely, he doesn’t mean that. He’s just trying to fuck with me… right?
Before I have a chance to respond, a knock sounds at the door, startling me and effectively breaking the bubble we’ve built. We both stand, watching each other for a moment longer before he turns, heading for the door. With his hand on the knob, he glances behind himself at me. “Don’t forget our bet… you owe me.”
He pulls the door open a second later, a short, stocky man standing in front of us. “Locksmith?” the man says.
Pulling my gaze away from Mateo, I regain my senses. “Uh, yeah. That’s me. It’s across the hall.”
I follow the man out into the hall as he gets to work. Mateo stays put in his doorway while the man fiddles with mine. It only takes a handful of minutes before the apartment door pops open, and as I’m entering my house, I turn around and glance at Mateo, a signature cocky smirk on his face. Something’s shifted. I don’t know what, but it’s there.
“Don’t forget our bet… you owe me.”
The first thing I do once inside is plug my phone into the charger. When it powers on, I scroll through all my missed notifications. My sister and Xander have sent several, but it’s the text from an unknown number that catches my eye and has me opening it before all the others.
Unknown:
Next Friday… we’re going out. Don’t even think of telling me no. A bet’s a bet, cariño.
For a second, I’m confused about how he got my number, and then it hits me… I gave it to the locksmith over the phone. He memorized my phone number.
My stomach flutters, a smile forming on my face despite my best efforts to tame it. Mateo Rojas is a fucking enigma if I’ve ever seen one…
The End… For Now
