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Maybe I should call Diego and have him—what? Come over and scare him off? Jay’s clearly in a mood. I push down on the rug with my bare feet, but don’t rise. Someone turning up’ll get him all fired up. Better to leave it until the morning.
Jay paces like something’s bugging him. “You know you can talk to me, right?”
“Yeah, but I don’t wanna.” His lip curls in a sneer.
Any other situation I’d ground him, take away privileges. But this isn’t normal, and too much pushing will send him running. If he’s here, there’s trouble or he’s rethinking the move, so I stand, finally.
“That’s fair. Have a good night,” I say. Then I turn the TV off and head to my room.
* * *
Something possesses me to text. I don’t really know why, only that I do it.
Me:Heads up, Jay came home.
Me:He’s fine. Says he’ll be gone tomorrow.
Me:We can talk then.
Diego texts back. Within seconds, and yeah, a small thrill dances in my blood.
Diego:I can be there in ten.
Me:Morning’s fine. Only if you want.
I can almost see his eye roll.
Diego:Don’t fucking play games w/ me, N. You texted, you want me there.
Diego:I can come tonight, tho. Unless you got someone in your bed.
Asshole.
Me:Worried I do or don’t?
Diego:Playing w/ fire, N.
Me: That’s me always ready to get burned. But I don’t need you to come over. I’m a big girl. I learned how to not need a man in my bed.
I can’t believe I actually said that.
Taking a shaking breath, I know he’s right, it’s exactly what I was doing. And so was he. Shit. Shit. Shit. What the hell am I doing?
Nothing answers me in the dark quiet of my room, so I do the sensible thing.
I close my eyes and wish for sleep. My phone alerts me to another message, I peek at it only to ignore it. I can’t take that chance of Diego saying he’s actually coming over rather than offering. Being around him is hard enough as it is.
* * *
Mornings are usually chaos, but I’m not working, so when Jay slouches into the kitchen, he stops, glares, and sniffs. “Keeping an eye on me?”
“No, I—” Telling him about the crap going down in my professional life isn’t on any list of agendas. “Had the day off.”
“Whatever.” He snatches up my bag and opens it.
“What are you doing?”
“I need money. You have it. That’s the way it works.”
