Deal

by Shey Stahl

I turn on my heel to face him, not prepared for how close he is, our chests touch and I have to say, it’s nice. His lips are inches away from mine again. I don’t bite him this time. Tempted, but I don’t because I’m caught off guard here and seeing just how nice those lips look.

  “What are you even doing here?” I raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you stalking me?”

  “No, my friends are here,” he says, smirking and I know what he is going to say next is going to be delivered in a teasing manner. “But you know,” he leans forward so his forearms are resting on the table, “I could be a stalker if you like that sorta thing.” He winks.

  There’s that wink again.

  I try to look away when he holds his phone in his hand and stares at the screen that’s lit up. “Crazy thing happened tonight,” my stare goes to his and he smiles, one side higher than the other. I nearly burst out laughing. “I keep getting these calls about my car being for sale. Know anything about that?”

  I smile looking around the bar and then back to him. “Nope. Are you selling it?”

  He shakes his head. “Nope.”

  As we stand there, his eyes move south ...to my cleavage on display for him where they linger.

  Deciding that he needs to know he can’t just have any woman he wants, I grab my beer and start to walk away. Only before I can get away, he grabs my arm.

  “You know, I really wasn’t asking for the dance,” he says, laughing under his breath. “I was just being kind. I think you know I was demanding a dance.”

  He’s a confident motherfucker, isn’t he?

  “I can’t dance.” I lie.

  I pole dance with Jade on the days I don’t workout ... don’t judge ... it’s good exercise.

  “Amalie,” he says bending down so his lips graze my ear. He’s really trying to work that appeal he has. “It’s all in the lead.” He adds and his hand drags down my back, stopping just above my ass and pushes my hips against his own. “Anyone can dance if they have someone to lead.”

  Remember why you hate him. Don’t give into dick just because it’s there. Remember why you hate him, you whore.

  Without giving me much time to hesitate, he leads us to the middle of the dance floor with a look on his face I absolutely hate, one that screams, you’re giving into me darlin’.

  I can’t help but notice all the dirty looks I receive as I follow him. I have to admit, he is one gorgeous man. It’s no surprise that Tathan has women all over him. My problem is that I’m not that girl. I don’t melt over men anymore. I have a hard shell and nothing’s cracking it. At least not this dude.

  Who the hell am I kidding, if this guy wanted to crack my shell, I’d spread out like a fried egg cooking over hot flames just waiting for him to bust my yoke.

  He suddenly stops in the middle of the dance floor turning around to face me and pulls me close with both hands on my hips. It’s a motion that has my breath spiking because he smells so good and it’s doing nothing for my celibacy mission, nothing at all. And that stare he’s now giving me is doing nothing for it either. He’s so damn sexy. Keep this up and I’m going to stumble in my resolve, Force why have you forsaken me?

  Like he’s going in for the kill, he raises his hand to touch the side of my face.

  What was the plan again?

  “Don’t take those beautiful eyes off mine.” He says as he begins to move to the music.

  Naturally a rap song had to come on to make matters worse. Leaning down he pulls me flush against his body—wrapping my arms around his neck—I sink. Right into his warm embrace. It’s been so long since I’ve felt a man’s arms around me and, oh, is it nice. Like Christmas morning nice, exciting and comforting all at the same time.

  Briefly, I forget what’s happening and enjoy myself feeling his warmth. He smells so good, strong arms, breath panting on my neck as I grind into him, and I never let my eyes leave his. His body is strong everywhere my hands have the pleasure of roaming.

  I’m lost in his features and those gorgeous eyes capture me. I decide to show him that I did in fact lie a little. I can dance. In another life, I think I was a professional dancer. Even Jade agrees.

  Within a minute, I find a fault of Tathan’s I didn’t think he had. He’s not that great of a dancer. I can definitely tell he can move, but he’s no Channing Tatum when he comes to owning the dance floor.

  Maybe I thought he’d be a better dancer based on his looks. Either way, it makes me happy because maybe he’s not as good in bed as I imagine. The Chlamydia must have had an impact on his moves, at least that’s what my mind is telling me is true.

  “Stop thinking so much.” He whispers in my ear sensing my mind is elsewhere. “Dancing is supposed to make you feel sexy.”

  Oh I’ll show you just how sexy I can be, buddy.

  I slowly turn and shove my ass into him. He makes a very audible gasp and clutches me tighter to him, pulling my ass into his hips. It’s apparent right then what I do to him. I feel it against my ass. Part of me wanted to grin, the other part wanted to cringe. We continue to dance like this for the rest of the song. When it’s over, he roughly turns me around and whispers a throaty thanks in my ear.

  I decide it’s time to get away from him before I really do something I’m going to regret. Coming here was a bad idea. I need a more thought-out plan with actual steps or a checklist for Christ’s sake before I’m around him again.

  “Don’t leave.” When I pull away, he shakes his head, seeming disappointed. “Have a beer with me.”

  “No.” I can’t even look at him. “I need to go home.”

  He doesn’t say anything and I automatically look up to see his reaction to my words.

  He tips his head, eyes on the bar and then back to mine. When I look at him, I see there’s more to this guy than him being a man-whore but I don’t want to see that right now. There are certain types of guys out there. The ones you know are just looking for a good time and will take it when it’s there, no matter what the repercussions might be.

  Then there are the ones who are like that, but have some morals some of the time.

  I sense Tathan is the latter, the one with morals. He has honest eyes, ones that can’t hold lies within them.

  I start to walk away when a hand reaches out for me. “Where are you going?”

  “Home.” I stare at the floor, anywhere but his eyes.

  I don’t look back. I can’t.

  Work on your resistance. You almost failed.

  Zane and Casey are dancing so I make my way out when I know they won’t notice me.

  When I get in my car, the same song we just danced to is playing on my car radio.

  Ironic.

  I turn it off and make the ten minute drive back to my apartment in complete silence. When I open the door, Oliver is there waiting for his walk.

  “Come on, boy.” He’s eager and jumping all over me, sharp claws scratching at my bare legs.

  There’s one bad thing about having a puppy. Well, there are a few but the one at the top of my list: they require maintenance and walking at all hours of the night. And for a girl like me—one scared of the dark—this is not easy. I wish he was a cat so I could get him to use a litter box.

  It’s not like he could protect me should someone try to attack me. He’s barely ten pounds and licks people to death. My other problem is that he takes so damn long to pee. It’s like he has to find the perfect bush to pee on.

  “Come on! Will you just pee already?”

  Oliver looks up at me, sad I yelled at him.

  I kneel down to his level. “Look, mommy is really sorry but you need to pee, buddy. It’s late and I’m barely wearing anything.”

  Phoenix isn’t exactly the safest city and when I’m out here this late at night, well, I get scared.

  “Hey, baby!” A man whistles from behind. “Nice dog.”

  Yeah right. Like he’s looking at my fucking dog with this dress on.

  Oliver growls as the man passes by. He doesn’t like men.
At all. He gets just past us and whistles.

  “Eat a dick, asshole.” I don’t even look back at the guy as I pick up Oliver and head back to my apartment.

  “You should have peed.” I set Oliver down once we get up the stairs and he wiggles like I’m rewarding him, because I said something to him. It’s amazing to me that no matter what I say, he wiggles.

  When we get upstairs, Tathan’s unlocking his door. He turns and looks over at me leaning into his door frame holding his keys in the palm of his hand. His black shirt is unbuttoned a little more, cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol in him and I must say, he has me staring at him once again.

  He looks at the dog, and then at me again. “Thanks for the dance.”

  I don’t say anything to him as I unlock my own door. That’s when I hear the faint sounds of water and look back.

  I shit you not, Oliver is peeing on Tathan’s doormat, and then runs back to his mommy.

  Should I reward him?

  Tathan squints down at the doormat and then at me again, and says nothing.

  I get my door open, Oliver trots in, completely satisfied with himself.

  What the hell do I say? Should I apologize?

  When I don’t say anything, Tathan gives me a big forced grin, steps over the puddle heading inside his apartment and closes the door.

  Inside my apartment, Oliver is sitting on the couch watching me, probably wondering if he’s going to get yelled at or given a treat.

  I rub his head. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  He has no idea what I’m saying, by his wiggles, once again he thinks I’m rewarding him. As I sit down next to him. My phone buzzes so I glance at it noticing messages from Casey and Zane appear but I don’t read any of them. Instead, I cuddle with Oliver and think of ways to make this plan of mine work. I need to make Tathan miserable and not dance with him. Or look at him.

  And now I need to buy him a new doormat.

  I’m too nice of a person not to.

  “I could just give him one of those pee-mats I set down for you when I’m at work.” I say to Oliver, considering doing just that. “You know, in case you feel the need to pee on his doorstep again.”

  I chuckle at myself thinking I’m funny. Oliver doesn’t say anything but cocks his head with his left ear flopped back. I reach over straightening out his ear. “I’m funny, right?”

  His answer is to wiggle.

  What’s not funny is that I’m here with my dog, in bed, telling him all about my problems.

  Everyone wonders why I am this way. And by everyone I mean Casey and Zane but they know why I am the way I am, they just wish I’d give someone else a chance instead of letting one guy ruin it.

  Listen, everyone has a deal. A reason as to why they are the way they are.

  Mine?

  Colton Enning.

  I started dating Colton my junior year of high school. All was great. We were both on the swim team and had that passion for swimming that drew us together. We went to college together, both on scholarships for swimming.

  And then, just three months into my freshman year at Arizona State, my dad was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer. I had no other family, my mother died when I was just a baby, so I dropped out of school to help him.

  Colton and I started drifting apart almost immediately. It was just a year into my dad’s treatment when they found out the cancer had spread throughout his body. I just knew it was the end. I could see it in his eyes. He wanted to give up.

  Needing comfort I went to campus to see Colton.

  You can pretty much guess the scene I was met with. Distant girlfriend, college boyfriend needing his own comfort.

  Yeah. Walked in on him getting a blowjob from his roommate’s girlfriend. Douchebag.

  My dad made it another six months before he passed away. After that I swore off men. Sure, I had a few one night stands, one absolutely amazing and the others not so much. Now I was just trying to stay away from the ones I knew would break my heart. Relationships just weren’t my thing anymore.

  Casey always tells me, don’t let Colton spoil it all but he ultimately did. He really did. The saying “one bad apple ruins the whole bunch” sort of mentality. I loved him more than anything at that time and when I really needed him, he wasn’t there for me and did the inconceivable. Certainly that wasn’t going to be easy for me to move on from. It’s been two years and I still couldn’t.

  The next morning after replacing Tathan’s doormat with a new one (not the puppy training mat), I’m standing in line waiting to get coffee for my much needed caffeine fix. When I peek around the crowd, I see that the cashier is paying way too much attention to her current customer and I’m pretty sure she just slipped him her number written on the outside of his coffee cup.

  How tacky can you be? What’s wrong with women these days? They throw themselves at men and expect them to have respect for them. How? They see the way you act and figure they can get away with that too.

  “Seriously, some people need to get to work. This isn’t eHarmony, speed it up, assholes.” I say loud enough for her and her current eye candy to hear me.

  As Zane would say, she’s clearly missing the olive in her martini judging by the way she keeps tossing her hair around. If she keeps that shit up her brain will fall out with all the whipping she’s doing. And then she won’t be able to make my coffee and that will really piss me off.

  The man at the counter slowly turns to face me—he definitely heard what I said. That’s when I see his profile and I smile to myself. There is Tathan standing there in all his morning glory with his next harem girl drooling over his appearance.

  I’m smiling because I interrupted their love connection and that makes me extremely happy.

  He looks up and down my body and I suddenly feel very self-conscious even though I am far from that. I know I have a great body because I work damn hard for it and I’m not that girl who gets self-conscious.

  He turns back to the coffee slut and whispers in her ear. Apparently not hearing what she wanted to hear, she shoots me a dirty look and turns around to write something down.

  Tathan walks past me but stops as his shoulder bumps into mine softly, he leans toward me and puts his lips dangerously close to my ear.

  Do I flinch back like I should, no, hell no—I stand there like a fucking idiot waiting in front of the lion who’s stalking his prey.

  “Am I the prey?” Fuck, focus! Remember your dignity. Remember your plan from last night for Christ’s sake. You need to make him squirm, not the other way around.

  “See you at work, Amalie,” he says and walks away.

  Momentarily I say nothing. I’m stricken by his good looks again. Stricken fucking stupid apparently.

  What’s happening to me?

  Should I call in sick? I need time to think.

  After being pushed from the lady behind me I finally awake from my daydream, the one of us being zipped in a sleeping bag together in the farthest reaches of the Antarctic with nothing but the warmth of our bodies keeping us alive, as I approach the counter to order my drink. The shithead behind the counter is even ruder than before because apparently Tathan bought my coffee for me this morning.

  Maybe Tathan is a nice guy, a man-whore with Chlamydia, but a seemingly nice guy.

  The girl says nothing to me as she slides my drink toward me. She’s new, I know all the baristas since I’m in this café so often.

  I check my phone once I walk inside my office building, which just happens to be around the corner from the café. I can’t walk and look at my phone at the same time, so I stop. I even go so far as to stand against the wall so I don’t trip. One embarrassing display of road rash and I’ll never text and walk at the same time ever again.

  I have sixty messages. They’re all from Casey and Zane wondering who I was dancing with last night and where the hell I disappeared to. I avoided them like the monkeys in Outbreak, disease infested little shits they are, and amazed my phone can ev
en hold that many messages. The thing about my friends, they gossip and insist on being in everyone’s business.

  Once I get to my desk, Tathan is there, smirking as he drinks his coffee. “Mornin’” He says and winks.

  There’s something undeniably sexy about the way he says mornin’, like him cutting the word short makes him cooler.

  “Good morning.” I reply with a smile and for a moment, just a small fraction of a moment I glance over his appearance. It’s Friday. Fridays he wears jeans and usually a button down shirt that he rolls the sleeves up on. The top few buttons are undone and a little chest hair is peeking out.

  Then he speaks and I remember why I need to hate him.

  “Like what you see, honey?”

  And that’s why I can’t stand him. He can’t actually have a conversation with anyone that’s not filled with innuendo or lewdness that revolves around him and his amazingly fuckable body.

  “No, I don’t.” I say reaching forward to turn on my computer. “Every time you talk I want to throw up.”

  He laughs, undeterred by my harshness. “Come to lunch with me.”

  Here we go. He never quits. The thing that gets me is why is he so hell bent on me going out with him? That right there throws up all kinds of red flags for me.

  “No, I’m sick to my stomach. And the answer will always be no.” I tell him slurping my coffee, trying to annoy him. It doesn’t work. He smirks despite that. “But thanks for the coffee.”

  I couldn’t not thank him. That would be rude, right?

  So is saying he makes you sick to your stomach, dumbass.

  “Like I said,” he pauses and grins, “you’ll give—”

  He doesn’t finish his sentence. A box of rubber bands sitting on my desk prohibits this.

  Rubbing his temple, he smiles, “I like it rough.”

  I bet you do, asshole. I don’t say that because I know it will only encourage him.

  I open my email and leave him rubbing his face. There’s one from Casey reminding me of the Arizona Bridal Show this weekend yet again.

  She’s hoping to catch a glimpse of Elliot Warren, the famous photographer who just so happens to be from Phoenix and is also attending this wedding expo. From what I’ve heard about this Elliot guy, he photographs everything but specializes in weddings, capturing the most amazing moments of every event he photographs.