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I mean, I kinda did during our little FaceTime encounter.
“Shit, I haven’t?! I meant to!Hey, Sweet Tits, show me your pussy.”
“Funny, funny. Hey, when are we setting up our bread-making date?”
“It’s a date now?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Hang on, let me look at my schedule.” I put her on speakerphone and check my calendar app. “How about Wednesday afternoon? Two o’clock your time?”
“You know, the best way to do this is if you have your camera on too. Maybe we could show our faces this time.”
Fuck.
I sit up straight and push the bag of M&Ms away from me. Now what? I have no excuse.
“You want to see me, huh?”
“I’ve been curious... Like I said, you’re my favorite.”
Welp. It was fun while it lasted. This little tryst of ours had to end eventually. I figure I have three options here: One, ghost her. That’s a pretty dick move. We’ve had great conversations over the last several months. Even though we met through a monetary-exchange platform, we’ve gotten to know each other well enough to take ghosting off the table. Two, show up on camera. Surprise! She’ll never talk to me again and will swiftly disconnect the call. Game over. Three, show up in person. Surprise! I might be able to explain myself before she slams the door in my face.
“Okay. See you Wednesday,” I say reluctantly. “Hey, one thing. Promise you’ll still talk to me after you see what I look like?”
“I don’t care what you look like.”
Oh, I bet you will, darling.
We say goodbye and my phone drops to the desk. I form an O with my mouth and blow out a big exhale.Wednesday.
This ought to be interesting.
* * *
There’s nothing going on tonight. No game. No guys asking to party. Nothing. I pace around in my living room. Normally, I’m happy being a homebody. But not tonight. There’s a certain redhead pouring drinks beneath my living room floor. I’m almost positive she’s working, but I don’t know her schedule.Why can’t I shake this fixation on her?I pace back and forth again. I could go downstairs to see if she’s working.No. Don’t be an idiot. Find something else to do. Leave her alone.
My apartment is quiet and still. The dim lamp in the living room makes the space warm and inviting, but regardless of how cozy it is, there’s somewhere else I’d rather be. What is with me tonight? A slight thump of bass on the floor from whatever party is happening at Top Shelf below is a steady reminder of her. I can’t ignore it. Just like I can’t ignore her. Walking into the kitchen, I look for something to do. I’ve already done all the dishes. My palm slides across the counter, raking crumbs into my other hand. That’s probably enough to take out the garbage.
I jump in the shower and get in a quick tug to relieve this hard-on that won’t seem to go away lately. That minx sure knows how to get a fuckin’ rise out of me. I throw on some jeans and a Henley. Spritz some cologne, I don’t know why—yes, I do—I’m just taking out the garbage. It’s not like I’m going down there to impress anybody.Oh, no? Ya sure about that?This doesn’t involve you, Brain. Stay out of Dick’s business.
I grab my wallet, lock the door behind me, and head down the stairs with my barely full trash bag. I’m a masochist. Why else would I want to see her bartending and flirting with other men? She’s a great girl, her only downside is the way she makes her money, and only because I’m suddenly a possessive motherfucker.
In the alley, I fling the lightweight bag into the dumpster and turn to head back inside. I’m right here. Wallet’s in my pocket. What’s one drink? It doesn’t even need to have alcohol. I’ll order a pop just to be social. That’s all this is, being social. It’s not about her.You’re so full of shit.
I open the door to the bar and am met with the rumble of people talking, boisterous laughter from somewhere off to the side, clinking glasses, and music playing. And she’s there like I knew she’d be.
Looking hot. As. Fuck.
It’s not even her outfit, she’s simply wearing an old band tee and shorts. Same outfit from the other day, but she’s swapped the tube socks for fishnets. She looks like Eddie Vedder’s wet dream. Or maybe mine. I hover near the door and just watch her for a minute or two until a barstool frees up.
It’s open if I want it.
She glances toward me and makes eye contact. I hold her gaze for a brief second.
And then I walk away.
EIGHT
