by Lory Wendy
“Are you saying yes?”
“No.”
With a wink, he steps back. “Then since it’s hypothetical, I guess it doesn’t matter.”
Damn, he got me.
“Humor me,” I say, but it’s too late, he’s already laughing and walking back to the couch.
Chapter Eight
“So you like him,” Hope teases me a few days later at the gym.
I haven’t seen her since my party, and even though we talk nearly every day, in light of recent events, face-to-face girl time was needed pronto. After bringing her up to speed, again, with everything, “so you like him” wasn’t the response or reaction I expected.
“You’re insane.” I huff and bend to a stretch.
“Call me what you want, but I don’t see you actually denying it.”
“I do not like him. I don’t even know him.”
“Then why do you even care?”
“Wouldn’t you care if someone was super rude to you all the time?”
“First off, I don't think he sounds that rude.” She points her free weight at me. “Defensive, maybe. Arrogant, definitely. Rude, no. And again, I repeat, why do you care if he was rude anyway? If you don't like him, just ignore him."
“Would you be able to just ignore it?” I roll my neck, giving her all the attitude I can muster for this situation and knowing she’s damn well full of shit. “That’s what I thought,” I reply after a few beats of silence.
“Fine, you win. When are you going for it?”
“Going for what?”
“Focus, Selena, when are you making a move on Julian?”
“What about Julian?” a deep voice chuckles from behind us.
Hope yelps and jumps forward. I stiffen and close my eyes, praying it’s not who I think it is. God, why have you forsaken me?
“What about my boy?” A body shifts in front of me.
I crack one eye open, then let out a relieved breath and open the other when I see who it is. My smile is wide. “Quincy.”
“Hey.” He winks at me then juts his chin out at Hope.
“Hi,” she whispers.
My attention volleys between the two as Hope refuses to make eye contact with me. I have no idea where my strong, fierce friend has disappeared off to. But at the same time, I think it’s kind of cute that she’s so flustered. I get it. Quincy had an effect on me too the first few seconds we met.
When I look back to Quincy, he’s looking right at me with a blank expression. “I’m mad at you.”
“Excuse you? Why?”
He takes a moment to answer before his cheeks twitch, and he finally breaks out into a smile. “Maybe mad is an exaggeration.” A hand goes to his chest. “I am hurt though. How come you never come see me when you’re here?”
I shake my head, confused. “I never see you here.”
“I see you all the time, but you run away before I can get to you.”
At my confused look, he points to his shirt. I didn’t realize before then that he is wearing the uniform—the gym T-shirt and a name tag that simply says Q. “If I’m not here working, then I’m downstairs training with Rocky.”
“Oh, right.” Training must mean boxing stuff. One of the things I’m not sure I will be able to get over is the fact that, according to Blaire, Rocky trains fighters who are ruthless in the ring. It makes me wonder what kind of man it takes to help create one of the ruthless, and now that I’ve met Quincy, I wonder if that applies to him.
“What was that face?” he asks.
“Nothing.” I step back and shield my eyes from… nothing. “What were you saying?”
“You were getting ready to tell me what you girls were saying about Julian when I walked up.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I pick up the kettlebells off the floor and set them down on the rack where they belong.
“Funny, he has that same look on his face whenever you’re mentioned.”
Interesting. “You have my attention.”
“You’ve left an impression on him. Not a lot of people can say that.”
As flattered as I am, I feel the need to ask, “What’s his deal, anyway?”
Quincy screws his face up. “His deal about what?”
I don’t know how else to say it other than bluntly. So I push forward. “He seems like an asshole sometimes.”
“No one ever said he wasn’t.”
That’s not at all what I was fishing for. “Nice.”
Quincy stares for a second, then sighs. “Okay, look, in general, yeah, Julian can be an asshole. That’s just who he is. Don’t ever waste your time thinking you’re insulting him by calling him a dick. He’ll laugh it off. But, he’s a good man.” He sighs, and there’s something in his eyes, hesitation of some sort that tells me he wants to say something other than whatever is going to come out of his mouth next. “He’s a good man,” he repeats. “And he takes care of his own. You treat him right, he’ll give you the shirt off his back.”
“Aww, so he’s a generous asshole,” Hopes speaks up. Her smile is fake, but that shit drops when Quincy snaps his head in her direction.
Pointing at me, but glaring at Hope, Quincy’s voice drops. “She can get away with that. You, on the other hand, know nothing. So keep your fucking comments about my friends to yourself.”
“Hey!” I step in between them. What the hell? “Relax, she was just joking.”
“Yeah, well, that’s my brother she’s ‘just joking’ about.”
“Take a step back.” I glare at him. What is with these guys? The charming to dickhead in sixty seconds gene must be contagious.
Hope stomps away, lips quivering.
Now I’m even more pissed. “Seriously, Quincy?”
He raises both hands in the air, palms facing the ceiling. “What, I was defending my friend.”
“And she was defending hers.”
“I’m sorry. Julian has his moments, I won’t take that away from y’all, but I don't tolerate people talking shit about him in front of me."
“Admirable,” I say in the same sarcastic tone Hope used two minutes ago.
But Quincy doesn’t get mad at me. He smiles and leans back against the weight rack. “If you want me to apologize to your friend, I will.”
“You’re a big boy. I won’t tell you what to do.” I know my face betrays me. I do want him to apologize. I just don’t want to have to be the one to tell him to.
“Well.” He looks around then back at me. “I don’t plan on running after her, but you guys should come to Lotus tonight. I’ll make sure to seek her out then.”
I don’t ask what’s going on there or why he would be there, but I know I’m not going anywhere near there tonight. “Why the hell would I go to work on my day off? I see enough of those girls’ naked asses shaking inches away from my face throughout the week.”
“Hot.” He smiles again, a creepy guy smile this time.
“Don’t be gross.”
He lets out a belly laugh and nudges me with his hand. “I’m joking, but no seriously, you tell your girl I’m sorry, okay?” And now his face forms into the sweet Quincy I remember meeting.
“That’s more like it.”
“So, if you guys aren’t coming to the party at Lotus, what are you up to?”
“Oh, we’re checking out some place Pierce is trying to buy or something.”
“You’re going out with Pierce tonight?” His jaw clenches.
“And Blaire and Rocky too.”
“So like some double-date shit?”
“Like a friends-hanging-out shit.”
“Right.” He pulls at his ear then pushes himself back up to standing. “Anyway, I need to get back to work. Tell your girl I said sorry though. For real.”
“I’ll tell her.” I grab his hand. “Just… don’t be a jerk again. It doesn’t suit you.”
“It’s good seeing you.” He pulls me into a side hug. “It seems like everyone’s seen you since your party but me.”
By everyone, I assume he means Julian and Rocky. I don’t know how I feel about them talking about me—something I have no issue voicing to him out loud.
“In your case, you should feel good about it,” he says.
“Are you going to elaborate on that?”
“Not a chance.”
“Didn’t think so.” I laugh, looking around for Hope. She’s nowhere in sight, so with the promise to Quincy that I’ll seek him out next time I’m here, I head off to find her.
“Wow! You look… wow,” Pierce says as I struggle to climb into his truck—without him offering to help me, I might add. It’s way too high, way too flashy, and way too everything that involves a man clearly trying to overcompensate.
“Thanks.”
“So, have you ever been to Armand’s before?”
“No, but I’ve heard about it.”
“It’s nice,” Pierce continues. “Kind of small, but has a lot of potential. It has a kind of jazzy vibe, but they’re trying to change things up, so it might be a good next investment for me.”
If it wasn’t so obvious that Pierce wanted me to ask him to elaborate on his “investments,” I might have actually been interested. So instead of egging him on, I hum and look out the window, watching as the line of high trees and mountains of Boulder merge into the tall buildings and city lights of Denver.
Armand’s turns out to be a cute restaurant and lounge hybrid.
The food is delicious, the waitstaff nice, and the music pumping through the speakers is pretty good. The night is going well, with the only downside being Pierce, who can’t seem to calm down long enough to choke back some of the bragging that makes him sound like a douche lord. When he’s speaking easily with Rocky or Blaire, I get the vibe that underneath the bravado lies a really cool guy, but when he turns back to me, his chest puffs out and it’s story after story about what restaurants he’s visited and in what country.
“When I was in Italy last summer—”
“I think I need to go to the bathroom.” I stare at Blaire from across the table. “And I think you need to go too.”
“Of course.”
Both guys stand when we do, catching me off guard.
“Right,” I mumble, flinching. “We… we’ll be right back.”
“I don’t know if I’m just having a bad night”—I turn to look at Blaire once we get inside the bathroom— “but Pierce is, like, break dancing on my last nerve.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
“So, he’s not always like this then?”
“God no, but don’t count him out. He’s a really nice guy,” she gushes.
“I believe you. Just tell him to relax and stop trying so hard.”
On our way back to the table, I damn near trip over my feet at the sight of more company sitting with Rocky and Pierce. Two extra guys stand when we approach, and while I’m happy to see the familiar dark bald head, I have no idea how to respond to the one standing next to him.
Blaire looks more shocked to see them than I do. “I didn’t expect you guys to be here,” she says.
“We know,” Julian replies.
Standing next to me, Pierce lays a hand on my shoulder. “This is—”
I cut Pierce off. “We’ve met.”
“That we have.” Julian grabs my hand, planting a kiss on it then on my cheek. “It’s always a pleasure.”
Liar.
But just like that, the night gets more interesting.
Chapter Nine
“Are you having a good time?” Pierce asks me.
“Yes.” I smile and scoot over in our booth to give him room, immediately bringing my gaze back to the middle of the room.
“We should dance,” he says.
I snap my attention back to him. With the current slow song playing and dimmed lighting, this place has all the potential he was talking about on our way here. There’s a nostalgic feeling of simpler times—the music chill and crowd just as mellow. Dancing right now, with the right person, would be perfect. However, he’s only offering the dance because I can’t tear my gaze away from what’s going on at the other side of the makeshift dance floor.
“Maybe the next song?” I offer. The truth is, what’s playing has nothing to do with my hesitation. It’s the person standing on the other side of the room and staring back at the table that’s stopping me.
“Next song. Got it. Need another drink?”
I’ve already had a couple drinks—one too many, actually—but I hear myself saying, “Sure, thanks,” before I know it.
The minute Pierce walks off, a black shadow descends on my table in the form of Julian. My grip tightens around my glass, and a hair prickles on the back of my neck. I was having a good time watching him from afar, but I’ve yet to figure out how to get a handle of myself when he’s in close proximity. There’s either heavy flirting or thick tension that leads to strained conversation or an argument.
No in between.
“Why are you sitting here by yourself?” He shakes his head and takes the seat next to me.
“By all means,” I say under my breath. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“Someone should talk to Pierce about how to treat his dates.”
I bristle, sitting up straighter to stare at him. “He’s treating me just fine.” I set my jaw, daring him to argue. “And we’re not on a date. We’re… he went to get me a drink. He’s being a good friend.”
“A friend?” Julian throws his head back laughing. It’s not a genuine laugh; it’s filled with mirth, like I actually just told a joke.
“Ha, ha, ha.” I move to stand up.
His hand squeezing my knee stops me leaving. “What’s the rush? I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?”
More than anything; I’m sure he knows that too—almost like he’s doing it on purpose to wear me down. Stay strong, I tell myself.
I cross my leg away from him, forcing his hand to drop from my knee. “No, but your presence is annoying the shit out of me.”
“That’s not true. If I was annoying you, you’d have left by now. Same way you seem to always do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You like to leave me hanging.”
“Not true.”
“Very true.” He takes a sip of his drink. “At Lotus. At Quincy’s house.”
He’s bringing that up after all this time? Jeez. “Wow, I didn’t peg you as the type of guy who holds a grudge. That party was well over a month ago.”
“And it still stings my heart as if it happened yesterday.” He’s smirking. I want to smack it off of him then kiss it better.
“Well, if I recall, your little friend seemed to need your attention more than I did.”
“Yes, but if I recall”—he leans into me—“I didn’t ask you to leave any more than I asked her to interrupt us.”
This is true, but I need to get us back on track. “What’s that have anything to do with whether or not you make me uncomfortable?”
“I guess not much.” He leans back, taking another sip of his drink. I reach for mine but nothing but ice clinks against the empty glass. Glancing around, I try and spot Pierce, but he’s nowhere in sight. Where’s that drink?
Silence follows between us, my breathing drowned out by the music in the background and the chatter flowing nearby. There’s a charged energy in the air—the type of awkwardness I can’t handle, but have no idea how to penetrate.
“So, where is she tonight?” Why I ask that, I have no idea. I don’t care where the chick from my party is, who she is, or why she’s not here getting in the way of our conversation. The workings of my mind never cease to amaze me. At least tonight I can blame the alcohol.
“That’s hardly my business,” Julian answers.
“No?”
“Not at all.”
Interesting. “She seemed to be your business when you guys left together.” Shut up. Shut up! I keep my facial expression neutral, tryin
g to appear challenging with a mix of nonchalance, but inside I’m slowly dying, cringing, and face-palming all at once. The last thing I need is to sound like some jealous freak. “I’m kidding. Forget I said anything.”
“Forget that you noticed me the first night we met? Never going to happen.”
The way he says it, the way the words click… “So, is that why you left with her? You were trying to get me to notice you?”
“You want to know the reason I left with her?” Julian sets his glass down and leans closer to me. “Who she is?”
“That’s hardly my business.” I lean away.
“Nice.” He smirks, nodding slowly at his echoed words. “Some people say I’m a risk-taker, that I get off on a challenge.”
I can see that, in a way, but there’s more. It’s not just about the idea of a challenge for him. He loves the game in general. The push and pull, the passing of power and control. The arrogance in knowing that in the end, he’ll probably win—it all seeps out of his pores.
“Well, on that particular night,” he continues. “I’d had a rough week and wasn’t up for the challenge. I decided to settle on a sure thing.”
“Is that what you’re doing now? Settling on a sure thing?”
Please say yes.
Please say no.
“No.” He leans even closer to me, bringing his lips to my ear. “In fact, I have a feeling I’ve stumbled on my biggest challenge yet.” Dangerous. A man this smooth, who knows all the right things to say, is nothing short of dangerous. “Dance for me,” he whispers.
“What about this song?” Pierce pops back in, appearing out of fucking nowhere. At the same time, some girl approaches the table asking Julian if he would like to dance. Her familiarity irks me, as does her boldness to come ask him while he’s sitting with me.
My focus is on Julian so I can gauge his reactions and his is on mine for what I assume is the same reason. I say, “Sure,” at the same time he says, “Nah, I’m good.” And we both stare at each other, eyes wide as if we didn’t expect the other’s answer.
Stuck with my response, I take Pierce’s hand, trying not to look over at Julian.
I can’t remember the last time I slow danced, but there’s not much forethought required to it, so when the sultry R&B song flows through the speakers, I let the words guide my hips.