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I hum a yes. I did, I guess. He does always make me come, he's nice like that, but it’s just that.
Nice.
Nothing earth-shattering but I think nice is kind of what I need. Nice is easy not to get attached to.
When I first landed a job working as an assistant in a law office, I didn't pay attention to anyone but my boss. I didn't want to. I was too wrapped up in my head, in making sure I didn't fuck up another part of my life. It was a miracle I even got the job, a fact I'm well aware of. But somehow, I did, and God knows I didn't want to do anything to mess it up.
But then the months passed and I got comfortable. Comfortable enough to look up from my desk every so often, and he caught my eye. He was charming and handsome and safe because nothing beyond the physical stuff attracted me to him
And that’s what hooking up with him has always been. Purely physical. Scratching an itch. Sporadic. No emotions attached at all. Most of all, completely casual. Honestly, the guy could disappear tomorrow and I might not even notice.
But I'm not quite sure he's gotten the memo.
“You wanna grab dinner?”
I grimace as I button up my shirt. “I have plans.”
“Oh.” I hate that he sounds disappointed, as if he doesn't know the score by now. When the opportunity arises, we bang. We don't linger, we don't go out. That's it. “Another time?”
“Probably not,” I can’t help but be honest as I open the passenger door, swing my legs out and slip on my heels.
Before I can escape, he latches onto my hand. “I'll see you Monday?”
“Mmhmm.” I hum noncommittally, flashing a blank smile, shaking his hand off me and hightailing it away.
The parking lot is empty, my car and his the only ones remaining. Unsurprising, considering it's a Friday night and work ended hours ago. I stayed longer to finish up a few things, he did too, one thing led to another and now I'm late for the plans I actually wasn't lying about having.
I'm in for an ass whooping and the weak orgasm wasn’t even worth it. Didn’t take the edge off like I hoped it would.
I practically throw myself into my car, eager to escape the cold. Flicking down the rearview mirror, I grimace at my appearance. Smeared lipstick, smudged mascara, hair mussed. Smoothing the freshly dyed brown looks back into a ponytail, I fish a makeup wipe from my purse and scrub my face clean. Not like I'm trying to impress anyone where I'm going.
For a moment, I simply stare at my reflection in the small mirror. I find that I've been looking at myself differently lately. I used to always see my mother's face staring back at me. Used to assume all my traits were from her since we looked so similar.
But now I look at him and I look at Pen and I see all these similarities and I wonder if me and my mom are really as alike as I thought we were. I wonder if things had been different, would people have compared me more to him or to her.
It hurts my head to think about all the what-ifs.
Pushing away those thoughts that tend to plague me lately, I flip the mirror up and plug the address into the GPS even though I know it off by heart by now. I just wish I didn't so I pretend I don't. Grasping the wheel tightly, I pull out of the parking lot and start towards the hell that has become my regular Friday night.
God, I need a drink.
* * *
I hate this house.
I hated it the first time I came here and I hate it six months later. I hate it even more when there's a rental car parked outside like there is tonight.
The only thing I don’t hate is the familiar fake redhead leaning against her car.
“You're late,” Pen chastises the moment I’m within earshot.
“I know. I'm sorry.”
She surveys me as I walk towards her, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You missed a button.”
Glancing down, I swear when I find the top button of my shirt unbuttoned, revealing a little too much bra than is appropriate for ‘family’ dinner. I hastily button it up while avoiding Pen's gaze.
“You were having sex.”
