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“I’m not looking for a relationship.”
His eyes flick over in question.
“I’ve actually been thinking about getting on Tinder to try and find a friends with benefits situation.”
“What?” He frowns, shocked.
“I just don’t want a relationship.” I act casual. “I want to focus on work and fixing up my house,” I tell him in my practiced speech.
What I really want is time to try and figure him out, but I can’t tell him that without scaring him off.
“No,” he snaps.
“What do you mean, no?”
“I don’t want you to have a regular booty call.”
“Why not?” I frown. “You do.”
“That’s different.”
“How is it?”
“Well . . .” He shrugs as if searching for the right words. “It’s just sex to me, and you aren’t like that.”
“How do you know? You thought I was an engaged adulterer a week ago.”
“I wonder why.” He widens his eyes.
“Well, I don’t see another option. I don’t want a boyfriend, I don’t want to fall in love, but I miss sex.”
His eyes flick over to me. “I know what you’re doing.”
“What?”
“You want me to offer you my dick for your own personal use. That is not happening, Juliet.”
“What?” I act horrified.
That’s exactly what I want.
“Don’t be ridiculous—we’re neighbors.” I look out the window as I act casual.
He twists his lips as he stares through the windshield.
“Anyway”—I shrug—“I’ll work it out. Joel thinks it’s a good idea.”
His eyes flick over to me. “You’ve discussed this with him?”
“We were just talking about sex, and it came up.”
“You were talking about sex with your interior fucking designer?” he barks.
“Why not?” I snap back. “I’m talking about it now with you.”
“That’s different.”
“How is it different?”
