“Because I refuse to be that girl. I don’t want to take money from you. I want to stop buying things I can’t afford.”
“Where’s all this coming from?” It seemed to be from left field in Collier’s mind, but I thought about it every time I made another entry in my checkbook. “What girl are you talking about?”
“The one who takes money from you. Who uses you to improve their social standing.”
He lowered his head to meet my eyes. When I dared to face him, all I saw was love…and a shit-eating grin. “Babe, you’re the one who insists on keeping everything separate. Everything I have is yours. If you need anything, tell me, and I’ll make it happen. But, sweetheart,” he stroked my cheek with the pad of his thumb, “I don’t know what you don’t communicate. I don’t have a clue what your financial situation is because we’ve never talked about money. I mean besides the whole house thing.”
“How could you not know all of this”—I circled my arms around to show I meant the space in our home—“was a strain for me?”
“Because I assumed when we bought the house, that meant we were both in. Sold out. Mi casa es su casa. I don’t think of anything we have as mine.”
“I just know how angry you used to get with Beck when she’d use your credit card. And I never want you to question whether I’m with you because I love you or because of the lifestyle you bring to the relationship.”
He squeezed me in a full-body press and held my head to his chest. “I all but forced you to move out of your shoebox. It’s safe to say unless you’re a damn fine actress with the patience of a saint, that wasn’t a show you put on. Unless you have an Academy Award I’m unaware of.”
“Do you realize I haven’t bought a single bottle of OPI since we moved here?” I confessed into his chest. It might seem insignificant to anyone else, but it was my weekly splurge.
“Is that your nail stuff?”
I nodded as I pouted. I didn’t mind sacrificing for us, but it was tough when it felt like I was the only one doing it. His large hand cupped the back of my head and then ran the length of my hair. He kissed the top of my head before he handed me the credit card again.
Resigned to accepting this, I took the card and went to the store. When I came back, I let go of it for the time being. It hadn’t seemed to be an issue for Collier, and I didn’t want to ruin the evening. I filled up the cooler outside and put the rest of the beer in the fridge.
I stepped out onto the patio and hopped around, trying to get my bare feet off the hot ground.
“Gizzy, come sit with me.”
I traipsed over to my bestie, sitting with her girlfriend. Roxie and Amy had gotten into the water, and Beck and Stella were near the grill with Parker, Mark, and Collier.
I flopped my butt down on the lounge chair next to her, and my boobs nearly popped out of the top of my swimsuit. While I stuffed them back in, Ronnie made some raunchy face.
“Did you get a boob job along the way that I somehow missed?” she questioned me while staring down at my cleavage.
“No, why?”
“Your shit is busting out. Maybe you need to go up a size in the bikini department.”
“This is the same size I’ve always worn.”
“Did you put it in the dryer? Because it sure as hell doesn’t fit the way it did last summer.”
Trish took a swig of her beer before chiming in. “The girls look a lot firmer now that you mention it.”
“Jesus. Have the two of you been taking my measurements? Borrowing my bras?” I hadn’t been running quite as much as I did before we moved, but that was just the distance, I still worked out every day. We’d moved farther out, and now had a longer commute so I shaved off a mile.
“It wasn’t an insult. Just noticed you were heading in the opposite direction of most women your age.”
“You’re just as old as I am, Ronnie.”
“Anyone else would be thrilled to have someone say their tits had gotten fuller and firmer, but somehow, you’ve got your panties in a twist. And what’s with the mood swings? Are you and West fighting?” Ronnie eyed me. I knew what she was doing—she swore my right eye twitched just slightly anytime I lied.
“No.” I wasn’t telling her or Trish that I felt less than worthy because my bank account was virtually empty. Everyone already thought I was shallow because I loved nail polish and cars.
“Please tell me the sex hasn’t already dried up. I don’t think I can handle another episode of Girl Crush.”
“Ronnie, there’s nothing wrong. The sex is amazing, our life together is great,” I snapped.
She held up her hands in surrender. I hadn’t meant to make her angry. She was right, though. I had been snippy, and if I was that way with her, I was that way with everyone else.
“I’m sorry, V. I shouldn’t have been short with you.”
Trish had long since sat back and put her sunglasses on—it was her way of excusing herself from the conversation. She could hear everything we said, but Ronnie would tell her anyhow so at least this way she got firsthand knowledge.
“I’m having a hard time keeping up.” I proceeded to tell my best friend about the struggle with money and wanting to be an equal in the relationship.
She listened attentively before offering advice. “You know that just because the number of commas on your paycheck isn’t the same that doesn’t mean you don’t contribute to the relationship in other ways that are equally as valuable.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh yeah, I’m sure my ability to run errands and pick up the house before the maid comes brings real value.”
“Collier loves you, Giselle. If it doesn’t bother him, maybe you shouldn’t let it bother you. So pull the stick out of your fine ass, and go shove your bigger melons in your man’s face. There’s never a need for an apology when he can motorboat.” Her lips spread in a wide grin as she dropped her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose.
“And you say I’m crass.”
“Go.” Ronnie shooed me away with the wave of her hand.
I stole her flip-flops to keep from scalding my feet again—only Ronnie would have heels on pool shoes. Collier had gotten in the water, and his skin glistened when he broke the surface. Once I reached the steps, I kicked off my borrowed shoes and stepped into the shallow end. The cool feel of the water against my skin was refreshing and washed away the unease the discussion of money brought. I took a deep breath before going under and swimming between West and the wall. He stepped back to allow me room to maneuver my body into the narrow space, and his smile welcomed me when I stood in front of him.
“Hey, babe.”
The feel of his chest beneath my fingers spurred me on. His nipples were firm and masculine as my palms grazed them. While my touch continued north, he snaked his arms around my lower back. The moment I laced my fingers behind his neck, he took my mouth with his in an inappropriate kiss. My legs crawled up his like a monkey on a tree before settling around his waist.
“Get a room,” Parker hollered from the table in front of us.
West broke away to yell back at his friend over my shoulder. “Last time I checked, this was my house, douchebag.”
It was all in good fun, but I still blushed with embarrassment. The heat in my cheeks flamed when he lowered his grip to my ass and rolled his hips into mine, showing me just how aroused he was beneath the water. Somehow, I had to get these fools to leave.
My voice was filled with desire when I whispered into his ear, “This would be a lot more fun naked.”
The growl that rumbled in his chest was low enough that no one other than me heard it, but it only served to increase my desire. I leaned away from him to see the heat in his eyes and the way the color changed when he got excited. He didn’t disappoint, but his focus dropped to my chest, stealing my view.
“This is one of those swimsuits you really shouldn’t wear around other people.” The smirk on his lips told me it was a compliment.
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s a little skimpy for my friends to enjoy.”
Twice in one day. Maybe it really had shrunk. “Ronnie said the same thing.” Well, not the same thing, but close enough that I now wondered if I’d gained weight.
“Odd thing for her to say.”
“She actually said my boobs had gotten bigger and wanted to know if I’d gotten implants.” I threw it out there as though her comment hadn’t affected me, but in reality, I wanted to see his expression.
He considered them for a moment before stating, “They do look bigger.” Before I could stop him, he released one of my butt cheeks and brought it up to grab my girl. “They’re firmer too. Is that normal?” Collier wasn’t concerned, he was elated. His girl had the appearance of a boob job without the surgery.
“You think so, too?”
Parker cannonballed into the pool, dousing us in water. When he surfaced, he was entirely too close, and I released my death grip on Collier’s waist to put my feet on the bottom of the pool.
“What are you guys over here whispering about? You do know you have guests, right?” He winked at me.
I’d loved Parker since the first time I went to Collier’s and watched football with him and his friends. He was fun to be around, a notorious flirt, and terribly easy on the eyes. But above all else, he respected me and treated me like a friend.
“Do Giselle’s boobs look bigger to you?”
“Collier!” I screeched his name, dumbfounded he’d ask his friend to check me out, which would also imply he’d done it before to have a frame of reference.
“Dude, I’m so not answering that question.”
“Thank you, Parker.” I shook my head in humored disbelief. Collier would kill any other man for so much as peeking.
“West, I think Mark and I are going to head out. It looks like the girls are leaving, too. Thanks for letting us crash your place all day.”
“No worries, you guys be careful.”
We said goodbye from the shallow end as our friends gathered their things and left out the side gate. The water was still around us, and the quiet was a welcomed change. Once we heard the last car pull out of the driveway, Collier resumed his pursuit of happiness. It didn’t take him long to untie the strings of my bikini, and it floated away before sinking. His shorts met the same fate shortly after.
His hands roamed my slick skin. My weightless body became putty in his embrace, and he slipped inside me with little effort. Sex with Collier was always good, but romping in a pool wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. There was no way to gain leverage with slippery body parts and nothing to cling to. My frustration mounted just before the entire act became uncomfortable. And seconds later, Collier lost his hold on me, and I nearly drowned, still connected to him while flailing in the pool.
When I finally broke free and found my footing, he was bent over laughing with his face inches from the surface. It was childish, but I couldn’t stop myself from pushing him under. His head broke free, and I heard him gasp for air while he shook his hair practically dry. I broke out into uncontrollable giggles when I saw the surprise on his face. What had been erotic only minutes earlier had turned into a silly water fight.
He caught me in a bear hug and dunked me one final time before bringing me back up to breathe and curling me into his body. He popped a kiss on my lips and echoed a sentiment he’d uttered a thousand times, but it was one that never got old. “I love you, Elle.”
“Love you, too.”
“You ready to go inside? I need to rinse the chlorine off, and I’m tired.”
I nodded and followed him up the stairs in the shallow end. Our swimsuits still hung out underwater, but I made no attempt to get them. They’d still be there tomorrow. He handed me a towel and started to dry off. I did the same and then wrapped myself up. I stood there waiting for him, and that’s when it happened.
The wet, farting sound coupled with the rush of water between my legs took me by complete surprise. And Collier too. He stared at the puddle on the ground at my feet and then my face.
“What the hell was that?”
“The joys of sex in water.” He might as well learn now.
“That’s kind of gross, you know?”
I swatted at his arm. “Where did you think that water was going when you were doing your thing in my hot box?”
“Your ‘hot box’?” He chuckled, and his eyes danced with humor.
I shrugged it off with a grin and was once again reminded why I loved him. He was able to laugh with me and enjoyed my idiosyncrasies…even as outlandish as they were.
18
The next day, I went back to my mind-numbing job where I spent another eight hours staring at the walls hoping someone would come in to entertain me…or possibly shoot me. When that hadn’t happened by ten, I started messaging my friends, none of which responded because they all had jobs that required them to actually do something. I surfed Facebook but quickly grew tired of that as well. A girl can only read so many posts about politics and how great other peoples’ lives are before wanting to clobber herself in the head with the heel of her shoe. I tried never to bother Collier at work. I still wasn’t sure I fully understood what he did, but I knew he ran a huge company that required his attention, and if I sent him a text, he would stop to respond.
Me: Are you busy?
Collier: Never too busy for you, Elle. What’s up?
Me: I’m bored.
Collier: Haha. I can hear your whining from here.
Me: Not funny.
Collier: Babe, why don’t you find a job you actually enjoy?
I didn’t know how to send a virtual shrug.
Me: Meh. I’ve been here a long time.
Collier: Maybe it’s time for a change.
Me: This is far too deep a conversation this early in the morning.
Collier: You’ve been up for five hours. It’s hardly early anymore.
Me: When I still have six more hours of watching dust collect, it’s early.
Collier: Quit.
Me: I can’t quit.
Collier: You can. You’re just choosing not to.
Me: I have bills to pay.
Collier: Again…that’s a choice.
Me: Are you suggesting I ruin my credit? That’s very unadult of you.
Collier: I’m suggesting you quit worrying about that kind of thing and do what makes you happy.
Me: You make me happy.
Collier: Well there you go. Do me.
Me: Can you meet me for lunch?
It didn’t happen often, but every once in a while, I talked him into breaking up the day with an afternoon rendezvous that left him relaxed. The copy room at Stearns and Wilkes hadn’t seen this much action since Xerox went multi-page.
Collier: I can’t today, Elle. I’m slammed. Why don’t you come here when you get off, and we’ll go to dinner?
Me: Fine.
Collier: Don’t pout, babe. And seriously, we need to talk about your employment situation. I hate that you’re that unhappy there. Topic for dinner, okay?
Me: Okay.
I tossed my phone onto the desk and stared at the clock. I began to make art with paperclips, bending and shaping them into patterns and weaving them together until they were a jumbled mess. When I grew bored with that, I reorganized the pens in my drawer. Every day became worse than the last. My boss was out of the office more often than not, and there was nothing for me to do. I sang praises to the sweet baby Jesus when twelve o’clock finally rolled around, and I was able to go out for lunch. When I returned at one to continue my death sentence, I found a tiny gift bag on my desk.
I hadn’t seen this much excitement in weeks. I put my purse in my drawer and retrieved the messages off the phone and sent my boss an email to tell him who to call and where. And then, I sat down to pull out the tissue paper. I stuck my hand in and pulled out a bottle of nail polish, remover wipes, and a file. A card fell out at the same time that read, “Until I can keep you occupied. ~W.”
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Collier had managed to pick out a color I didn’t already have, and one that coincidentally matched my outfit. It was a small gesture but one that made me giddy. He had heard me when I told him I couldn’t so much as afford my weekly treat, even though he hadn’t commented. I pulled out my phone to send him a text before I got to work on refinishing my nails.
Me: Thank you. I love the color.
He read the message but didn’t respond. I assumed he was in a meeting, and I’d hear from him later. I turned the bottle over, and my heart leaped into my throat. “You Sustain Me.” I doubted he had chosen the color based on the name, but I was going to pretend he had.
I took a quick picture of them when I was done and sent it to him. Again, he read the message but didn’t respond. Collier always returned my messages. It sucked that everyone I knew had something in their lives that kept them busy while I waited for the phone to ring or the occasional client to come by.
At five, I turned off my computer, shut everything down, and walked out to my car. I smiled at my banana boat sitting in the parking lot like a ray of sunshine before I got in. The leather welcomed me, and the radio hummed as soon as I turned the key in the ignition. Fifteen minutes later, I arrived in front of Collier’s building and parked next to the Porsche he’d yet to let me drive. My heels clicked on the cement sidewalk, but before I could get inside, a chauffeur stopped me next to a sleek, black limo.
“Giselle?”
“Yes.” I stared at him, wondering how the hell he knew my name, and looked around for witnesses to my pending abduction.
“Mr. West would like you to meet him for dinner. He got called away from the office.”
This reminded me of a bad after-school special, only who the hell kidnapped thirty-nine-year-old women? No one. I didn’t have a clue how to handle this. Screaming “stranger danger” didn’t seem appropriate, but getting in the car made me uneasy.
“Um. Okay. Let me call him really quickly. This is all just a tad odd.”
He handed me a piece of folded paper. “Mr. West thought you might not be compliant.”
I opened the letter which was written on Collier’s office stationary. “Get in the car, Elle. And give him your keys.”
Girl Crush Page 23