Offensive Behavior (Sidelined #1)

by Ainslie Paton

  He stood where he was, in the other room. He had nothing to do today and nowhere to be and she had a life to go back to that didn’t include him. He had to try not to be irrationally furious about that.

  “That was Cara.” Her voice was a husky melt of morning and their late night twisting up the sheets, making each other call out.

  “You don’t have to tell me your business.”

  That came out brutally hard, with all the anxiety he felt about letting her go, and she pulled her robe around her body and looked away. “Don’t do that, Reid. We had an amazing time.”

  “And now it’s over.”

  She turned her head back and snapped her eyes to his. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Then what?”

  “I have stuff to do. I have classes today, and a paper I didn’t finish, and I have to work tonight. I don’t have a lot of spare time and you have all the time in the world.”

  That couldn’t be how this ended. One day, one night. It wasn’t enough and yet it was everything. He approached her wanting to take the defensiveness from her posture, wanting her loose and lithe and in his arms again.

  He stood in front of her, braced his hand on the wall, caging her between his body and the window. “So we’ve blown through this thing.”

  She folded her arms over her chest and studied him. He wanted to kiss her, carry her back to the bedroom and keep her there. “This is how you want to play it?” he said.

  “I asked you a question.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, we’ve blown through it.”

  He dropped his arm and stepped back. Jesus, what was he doing? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “Come off all evil lord of darkness. Yeah, well, you did.” She unfolded her arms. “Look Reid, I’ve loved every minute of what we did. I have no regrets, but I don’t have time for games.”

  “This is not a game to me.”

  “Then you should’ve asked if I wanted to see you again.”

  “I don’t want this thing to be over.”

  “So you thought you’d communicate that by coming into the room like a storm front and trying to intimidate me.”

  “I can’t intimidate you.” And that meant he had no idea how to get what he wanted from her if she wanted something different.

  “No you can’t, but you tried all the same. I want no part of a thing where I’m made to feel like the enemy.”

  He couldn’t look at her. All of this was on him, and unlike other people he’d turned rancid on she could walk away and never look back. She’d carve a ragged hole in him doing it.

  “Be cool. I didn’t say I was finished with us. All I did was get out of bed to make a call. All I’m doing is going on with my life.”

  “While I’m making an ass of myself.”

  “Yeah, kinda.” She curled a finger at him, calling him to her side. “Tell me what’s going on with you.”

  He stepped in front of her but kept distance between them and his voice low. “I’ve never felt the things you make me feel.”

  “Okay, that’s reasonable.” She reached for his hand and some of the tension left his chest.

  All he had to give her was honesty. “It’s not reasonable to come on all, what did you call me?”

  “Evil lord of darkness.”

  “That’s my default whenever I don’t have control. That’s why I lost my company. Shit.” He looked for condemnation in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  She squeezed his hand and he stepped a little closer. He shouldn’t have fallen for her so quickly, it was all out of proportion, but his heart was beating so rapidly, so loud in his ears and he’d watched her, wanted her from a distance for so long, to have her this close and know he might lose her made him feel cornered.

  “There’s definitely a thing going between you and me, but you can’t be sure how much it’s about the sex or about me.” He went to speak and she stopped him. “Don’t talk, Reid. Listen. I don’t have the energy to get involved with you and then find it wasn’t me you were interested in, it was just.” He opened his mouth and she said, “Don’t,” with her hand held up to stop him. “I want to see you again, but I think we should leave it a few days, a week. I think you need to sit with this a little while and see how you feel.”

  “You think I’m acting like I’m sixteen all over again and going to make a fool of myself over you like I did with Dana Masters.”

  “I think it’s hard to separate sex from caring for someone and I’ve had enough sex without care. I’m not going there again. You’ve thought about sex the whole time we’ve been together.”

  He closed his eyes—he couldn’t deny it. Zarley’s mouth on him, writhing under him and dancing over him.

  “I’m good with that, I’m even good with getting together for more of it, but I want to be clear about what’s between us and you can’t be till you get some head space.”

  She stepped into him, stood on his feet and wrapped her arms around his neck, dragging his face down. He brought his hands to her waist, under her robe and thought of her lips and hair and the sounds she made when she was close to coming.

  “Give it a week and let’s see how we feel.”

  Seven days. He’d done years, a week was nothing. “Only the week days. You’re mine again by the weekend.”

  “Seven full days, but I’ll throw in phone sex.”

  “Five days, phone sex, with vision, and I’ll get some furniture.”

  She laughed. “Six days, phone sex with vision, furniture and a dick pic.”

  “Six days, phone sex with vision, furniture, a dick pic and something from you to inspire it.”

  “Deal.” She pulled on his neck and jumped, her legs clamping around his hips. “Now I think you should apologize for being a bully and do me up against the wall before you feed me breakfast, lend me your lovely shower and send me on my way.”

  He backed her into the wall with grunt of relief. He hadn’t lost her yet. He pushed her robe open and her panties to the side. She shoved at his sweats while he bent to take her nipple in his mouth. He entered her in one thrust that made her moan and clutch at him. And then he used his body to tell her she could trust him not to truly threaten or hurt her.

  She showered while he sorted cereal and coffee, sliding onto the stool in her jeans, tank and hoodie. He had a million questions.

  “What are you studying?”

  “What does your tattoo mean?”

  They spoke together and she called jinx. “We can talk about it next week.”

  “I wasn’t trying to, I don’t know, prove there’s something other than sex with that question. I want to know.”

  “Told you I could love you for your bath alone, but that shower is just as wonderful.”

  They grinned at each other and he felt lighter, easier with himself than he had since he’d whispered his desire into her skin last night, before the dreams and the reality of her absence had realized with the sun.

  They agreed he wouldn’t drop her home. They agreed she’d be the one to call. He kissed her goodbye in the kitchen and in the bedroom where she shouldered her bag and then again by the door. He wanted each of those kisses to tell her one thing. Thank you. I’m changed by you. I want you. She kissed him back. You’re welcome. I enjoyed myself. I’ll think about you.

  It wasn’t enough.

  She was almost out the door when he caught her hand and brought her back into the shelter of his body. He knew what was missing.

  “I didn’t just think about sex all day, all night, and I’m not thinking about sex now, I thought about sex with you, Zarley. Only you. There’s a difference.”

  She looked up at him, amusement in her eyes. “You are so getting sexted for that.”

  He fucking couldn’t wait.

  FOURTEEN

  It was just sex. Good sex. Zarley picked up her pace. She was going to be late to class. Okay, great sex. She hated being late. She’d rather be early. But Reid. Oh. Anxious, moody, difficult, wearing his emotions
so plainly in the tension of his body and so extraordinarily willing to take instruction. He was a confusing mix of alpha male and raw boy and she was intoxicated by him because he looked at her as if he’d found himself.

  And that was romanticizing the whole thing. It was once in a lifetime sex, that wasn’t too grand a claim for either of them. And that was worth being late for.

  And a lot to think about.

  She slipped into the last available seat in the back row of the lecture theatre ten minutes after Financial Management started. She sat there for the next fifty minutes and Prof Chicanofski’s voice went in one ear, met nothing to stick against in her brain and threaded straight out the other. There was no room for any new information between her ears, all she could think about was Reid. She was going to have to borrow notes.

  She had two more lectures and with coffee she forced herself to pay attention. That’s what she had to do, quit mooning over the virgin man-boy and get her head together. He’d no doubt get his together too, realize he had no further need to be embarrassed and start seeing their time together as exactly what it was.

  Cherry-popping, V-card shredding, all round unexpected fun.

  Oh she’d see him again, she was sure of that, because she’d made it tantalizing enough for him to hang on to the promise of more Sex 101, but it wouldn’t be the same. He’d be different, and what he wanted now and knew he could have, would make things different between them. Temporary.

  Exactly what she needed them to be. Because? Because. Four years of wasting her life she wasn’t getting back.

  When she made it home, Cara was waiting, although her version of waiting looked like dressmaking. She had a mouthful of pins, their colored heads held between her teeth. There was teal silk spread over the kitchen table, handmade pattern pieces pinned to it.

  “What’s that going to be?”

  “Dress for Lonnie Parker.”

  Cara’s ability to speak with a mouthful of pins was as legendary as her wish for one of her creations to have a starring moment, not that Lonnie Parker or any of the women Cara sewed for were likely to deliver it. “Special event.”

  Cara picked up scissors. “Nope. Family birthday.”

  “One day your red carpet moment will come.”

  Cara put the scissors down and took the pins from her mouth. “One day I’ll have to get a job to supplement my job. I lost my shift.”

  “Oh no.” Oh no, oh no. There was rent due, and at least two utility bills pinned to the corkboard in the kitchen.

  “I was rationalized out in an effort to concentrate expertise and provide a more holistically satisfactory customer call-center service experience.”

  Cara had pulled all the chairs out from the table. Zarley nabbed one, twirled it and straddled it backward. “You were canned.”

  “I was consciously uncoupled. I got severance. Enough for rent and I’ll get another job. Don’t worry.”

  “I’m not worried.” She tried to remember what was in her account, how long they could last on only her salary. It wasn’t totally dire, but it wasn’t sunshine and lollipops either. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Didn’t want to harsh your bliss. You sounded smitten on the call this morning. But you might have harshed it yourself by now. Google him yet?”

  Zarley had steadfastly not googled and Reid didn’t seem like the social media type. “No, but you did.”

  “You get bored after you’ve been rationalized.” Cara shifted her weight, a pained expression making her squint. But the fact that she was standing still, not restlessly shifting while they talked, told Zarley she was having a good day. “There are three Reid McGraths in the greater San Francisco area. But he’s not an old dude with a biker beard so that leaves two.”

  “There are three of them?”

  “Two, stick with two. Both of them are businessmen. Only one of them recently lost his job in a fairly spectacular way. Unlike my simple rationalization, he was booted from the company he started.”

  “Yeah, we already know all that, sugarplum, and I told you he had money.”

  Cara picked up the scissors again. “He’s like famous, Zar. Came from some nothing cowpoke town and built this big global software business called Plus.”

  “He has a plus sign.” She wrote it on her chest with her finger.

  “Big controversy about him.” Cara put the scissors to the fabric and snipped. “Some people reckon he’s a genius. But he was canned for, I don’t know,” she waved the scissors, “it’s all corporate doublespeak, but sounds kinda like he’s a bad guy. Not steal all the money bad, but,” she shrugged, “bad enough to go out in a blaze of glory.”

  That sounded like Reid. “He’s not good with people.”

  “He told you all this?”

  Zarley nodded. Cara went back to cutting the silk. “He’s been slumming it at Lucky’s.”

  That was becoming very clear. “I guess.”

  “So where are you at with him?”

  “We’re doing think music.”

  Cara snorted. She rounded the table, to cut the fabric from another angle. “What does that mean?”

  “It means we’re not seeing each other again until the weekend.”

  “Because the hottest sex of your life doesn’t need to be repeated?”

  “Because.” She hadn’t told Cara about Reid being virgin territory. It felt wrong to, and there was nothing Cara didn’t know about her life. She was Zarley’s only carry-over friend from her gymnastic days. Cara knew what it was like to have your body fail to deliver your dream. She would probably always be in pain from a simple fall, the kind Zarley had experienced multiple times with no ill effect. “Because it was all a little too hot, too fast, and you know, cooler heads.”

  “You’re into him.”

  Way too much. “He’s sexy, interesting and he takes instruction well. What’s not to like? And did I mention loaded?”

  Cara laughed. “Got him saying, yes coach, how high, yet?”

  Oh definitely. “It’s not like that.” But it was all too fast and she did need a cooler head and now she knew Reid was googleable it occurred that he’d Google her. Of course he would. What’s the chance he’d done it as soon as she cleared his foyer? “He’ll cyberstalk me.” He’d get all the sordid details.

  “Did you pretend to be someone you’re not?”

  She shook her head. “Replayed the train crash, pointed out all the bodies.”

  Cara cut a long swath of fabric, the scissors making a screeching sound. “Then what do you care? He’s a fling, right?”

  “Exactly.” Snick, snick. Tiny cuts. Like the ones Reid made around the walls of her resistance.

  “Zarley, he’s a fling. Right?”

  She looked up at Cara and grinned. “Depends on how good a dick pic he sends.”

  Cara’s eyes popped. “I want to see that.” Her scissor-free hand went to her forehead. “Do I? Maybe. Gross, if it’s like hanging there. You actually asked for one?”

  “I don’t think it will be hanging.”

  Cara squealed. “I’m so glad there are no pins in my mouth.”

  “It was a dare. I don’t think he’s going to do it. I’m supposed to provide stimulation.” She said the last word with an all-over shimmy that would’ve made her tits wobble, if she’d had the kind of tits that did that. Hers were more like a muscle-bound guy’s pecs, not that Reid seemed to mind.

  “You’re going to sext him. Can you trust this guy?”

  “If he’s such a big shot, he’s got more to lose than I do.”

  Cara hummed. “Not sure about that.”

  “Hey, what’s the worst that can happen? Some gossip website runs a pixelated shot of my bits. It’s not like I didn’t already let the nation down. I’m already old news.”

  “But they could out you. Former Olympic has-been now strips for tips.”

  “Nice. Maybe it’s time you had a new career. Gossip columnist.”

  “Think it pays better than, hello, how may
I help you with your order?”

  “Probably.” They said it together and Cara added, “Laptop is on, go search your hot and heavy, before you send him any saucy stuff.”

  “He’s already seen all the saucy stuff, over and over and—”

  “Okay, okay, okay. Hundred-year drought going on over here, limp a mile in my shoes.”

  Zarley left Cara to her pattern cutting and spent the next half hour reading up on Reid McGrath, Founder and ex-CEO of one of the country’s most promising software companies. Now she knew exactly how loaded he was, because it was printed right on the screen, his net wealth. The guy had net wealth, which was an even wealthier way of saying he was seriously cashed up. She also knew he came from a nowhere town about the same size as hers, was its most famous son and was raised by a single mom. And at one time they were both homeless. Though Reid was quoted as saying he always thought it was just camping. But that was it for the personal. Reid McGrath was all business. He had no social media profile, there were no pictures of him squiring women to A-list functions or playing the handbag. All he’d ever done was work until he was asked to step down amid rumors that he wasn’t up to the job anymore.

  He was like her, five years ago when all she’d ever done was aim for gold and failed.

  Except for the no father and seriously loaded part. Also boy parts.

  She sent him a text: Google me yet, Mr. Rich and Famous? She got a reply almost instantly.

  You really could fly. He’d seen video. You’re incredible.

  And he’d chosen to focus on that and not the way her sporting career came to an ignominious dead stop. You’re not too slack yourself. She watched her phone. She wanted him to text back but she didn’t want this to be something more than she could handle. She swiped the keyboard. I’m off to work. Have a good night. She looked at the screen again. He’d got the message. Then she hit the shower to get ready for Lucky’s, irrationally irritated that he’d not tried harder to keep a conversation going.

  For all she knew he was out picking up.

  Lordy, this is why she didn’t need a man in her life. Screwed with your head.