“We’re not,” I insist, maybe a touch too forcefully. “She’s a great girl, but she’s not for me.” Lies, lies, lies.
A hand flies to her hip. “And why not?”
The exact reason is one I haven’t ever discussed with her. I’ve only talked about it with Blaire and that’s just because she knew it before I did. I’m not sure how Nana would react to what I have to say besides throwing me a pity party and I don’t want that. Fuck that.
This isn’t about me. I’m fine with things. I made peace with that a long time ago. It isn’t about infecting others with my shit. It’s about not ruining other people’s lives because of my flaws.
“Look, Nana. I’m going to miss dinner, okay?”
She lifts a brow.
“I have some things to take care of.” I kiss her cheek and help her get settled in the car. “I’ll be there next week. Promise.”
We exchange a smile and I see the concern in her eyes. I hate it. I turn to go but stop when she calls my name.
“Yeah?” I ask, looking at her over my shoulder. Her silver hair shines in the early afternoon sunlight.
“Remember what the pastor said today,” she says. “Sometimes we search for happiness in the wrong places and in the wrong ways. Search simply, Lance. Don’t overcomplicate it.”
With a final smile, I head across the parking lot. The gravel crunches underfoot. As I climb in my car, I replay Nana’s words. Whiffs of Mariah’s perfume still linger in the air.
If only it were that simple, but this is anything but.
Twelve
Lance
This was a stupid idea.
My forehead rests on the steering wheel. It’s too early in the day to second guess all of my life choices. Blowing out a breath, I look up. Peaches sits in front of me.
Inside is Nerdy Nurse, a woman I should’ve met at a hotel and just fucked the shit out of. Or stopped messing with as soon as it was apparent that wasn’t going to happen. But, no. I’ve been getting ridiculous lately. I let the exchange be about more than just sex.
This is why you keep it about sex.
Air whistles between my teeth as I grab my phone and begin typing away.
Me: Is this thing still on?
Nerdy Nurse: I’m here. Are you?
Me: In parking lot. Figured you might’ve bailed.
Nerdy Nurse: I ordered a drink. Thought you wouldn’t show up.
Me: Why wouldn’t I?
Nerdy Nurse: Wishful thinking?
Laughing aloud, I exit the car and lock it behind me. Something tickles my gut and makes me wish things didn’t have to end between us. I don’t understand why, but I like these little exchanges.
Crossing the parking lot, I pass the spot I parked in yesterday when I came inside to check out Mariah and her date. Just like that, my need to end this with Nerdy Nurse, at least until I get my cock on straight, comes roaring back. It’s not simple anymore. I might be losing my mind. I am feeling guilt. Until I get that shit under wraps and stop this infatuation with Mariah, I need to cool it. For all of us.
Me: I’m coming in. How do I find you?
Nerdy Nurse: I’m wearing a blue shirt. The color of your balls. ;)
Me: Nice.
Nerdy Nurse: I’m next to the drive-thru. You have about two minutes or I’m going to bail. My nerves are getting to me.
Me: Slow down, speedy. See you in a second.
The hostess is the same from yesterday and she greets me with a friendly smile. “Hey. How are you this afternoon?”
“Good. Just meeting a friend.” Sticking my keys in my pocket, I rock back on my heels. “Mind if I look around for her?”
“I’ll take you to her. No problem,” she says, grabbing a menu out of a little basket on the podium. “Did you come for the buffet? You won’t need this if you did.”
I must look at her like she’s insane because she backtracks. “I’m sorry. Lots of people come in on Sunday for the buffet. I just assumed.”
“Oh, that’s fine,” I tell her. My head is so scattered I’m putting things together that don’t belong together. “I’m not sure though about the buffet. Can I take a menu and think about it?”
“Sure. That’s what she said too.”
“I …” The inside of my cheek starts to burn as I work it between my teeth. Am I missing something? “Did she say she was looking for a clueless guy? Because I’m not sure how you know who I’m looking for.”
“She didn’t have to tell me. This isn’t my first day on the job,” she snorts. “Right this way, please.”
All I can figure as I follow her through the dining area is that she thinks I’m some kind of pimp. Meeting different women here—Mariah yesterday and she had just been with another guy and now Nerdy Nurse. This can’t look good. I’ll probably have the Feds at my door when I get home.
We round the corner toward the table from yesterday and things look even worse.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
Mariah’s head whips to the side, her eyes bulging. “Oh, my God. Are you stalking me?”
“No, I’m not stalking you. I had no idea you were here.”
The hostess looks between us and backs away slowly.
“What a weird coincidence,” Mariah notes, looking around the restaurant. She nibbles her bottom lip, just like she did last night. And, just like last night, I want to pop it free and suck it between my teeth.
She’s beautiful with her hair up in a messy twist. The color of her silky shirt gives her a regal, sophisticated look. It’s the color of … my balls.
My head snaps to the drive-thru window. The very same window I sat outside last night when she sat here with Jonah. The same window Nerdy Nurse is sitting beside, waiting on me.
Oh.
My.
God.
No. It can’t be. There’s no way.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
She looks around again, forcing a swallow. “Meeting someone. But, you know what, I should probably just go.”
“Who?”
“No one.”
“Jonah?” I ask, although that isn’t the answer. She just needs to say it and confirm what I fear. Or hope. Or whatever this is that’s making a mess of my senses.
“Jonah? Hardly.”
Racing through every conversation we’ve ever had, I look for some inkling that she could be Nerdy Nurse. There’s nothing. Not one fraction of a reason to even consider it was her. She’s not a nurse. She doesn’t work in a hospital or on swing shifts. She doesn’t date men or look for quick sex—that I know of. If I’m wrong about the last one, I’m gonna be pissed.
“Let me ask you something,” I say. “Why did you wear that shirt?”
I can barely breathe as her eyes meet mine. She can’t be wondering if I’m History Hunk, although it’s a lot more obvious than her bullshit profile. But she couldn’t suspect me. Or does she?
“Why did you ask me that?” she gulps.
“Curious.”
“I like the color.”
“Why?”
“I just do,” she says, exasperated. “Why are you asking me a million stupid questions?”
“Did it remind you of something?” I press.
She pales. Her phone clatters against the table. “Lance …”
My heart can’t decide whether to beat rapidly or to still altogether. It does some unnatural thing inside my chest reminiscent of dancing while drunk. It’s all wobbly and trippy and it pukes a little to boot.
“This can’t be real,” I say in disbelief. “There’s no damn way.”
She covers her face. The redness in her cheeks blazes around the creamy skin of her fingers. To give her some room to breathe, and so I don’t stand in front of her and shift back and forth like an idiot, I sit down across from her.
My brain might be confused, but my body is not. It’s rioting for me to touch her, kiss her, bend her over the goddamn table and do all the filthy, questionable things Nerdy Nurse and I
have talked about.
Mariah and I have talked about.
Imagining those words coming out of her pretty little mouth makes me so hard I might explode.
“I’m so embarrassed.” It’s said so quietly I barely hear it. “I’m so, so embarrassed.”
“Why are you embarrassed?”
She refuses to answer me. Hell, she won’t even look at me. It’s like she’s frozen in place, mute to everything outside herself. The longer I watch her fight it, the more adorable this entire thing becomes.
It’s her. They’re both her.
Who knew when I took Nerdy Nurse’s words and pretended they were Mariah’s I was right. Wow. I’d say I was a lucky bastard except neither one of them want to sleep with me.
“Things would’ve been different had I known it was you sending me all those dirty things,” I admit. It’s said with as much levity as I can muster, but I’m not kidding. Not in the least. The mere thought of Mariah Malarkey discussing my cock in her mouth and the wetness of her pussy stirs something inside me I’m not sure I can fight.
“This is mortifying,” she moans.
“This is amazing.”
“Damn it, Lance.” She turns in her chair to pick up her purse. Every movement she makes is jilted, the scowl on her face cutting deep. Fuck that.
“Oh, no,” I tell her, swiping her phone off the table. It’s all I can think of to do to keep her from walking out. “You don’t get to ‘Damn it, Lance’ me.”
“Give me my phone.”
“No.”
She’s never been this angry in front of me. Her eyes glow, a ring of gold settling around the blue. The flush to her cheeks hints at what she might look like after an orgasm and it’s something I really, really want to confirm.
“Can you let me save some of the little dignity I have left?” she asks. “Just give me my phone so I can leave.”
I don’t. I don’t even consider it. Instead, I sit as far away from her as I can with her phone nestled in my lap.
“Tell me this: why are you without dignity?”
“Are you seriously going to make me address this?” she hisses.
“Um, yeah.”
“I hate you.”
“I’m calling bullshit on that,” I say, trying not to crack a smile. “You like me and so does the other you. As a matter of fact, one of you almost kissed me last night and this you, well, we both know what this you has been up to.”
“I never would’ve said anything if I’d have known it was you,” she growls.
I blink once. Twice. Three times. “So, let me get this straight. You’d talk dirty, filthy, actually, if I remember some of those conversations correctly—”
“Lance. Stop it.”
“Fine,” I say, propelling myself forward. The salt shaker rattles on the table. “You’ll talk that way to some guy you don’t even know but not to me? You would’ve let me kiss you last night, but you would’ve fucked some guy who didn’t even give a shit about you? What the hell, Mariah?”
“It’s you!” she exclaims like it’s self-explanatory. “I have to see you every day. You’re sleeping with God knows how many women—”
“Wait,” I say, my jaw tensing. “Are you sleeping with men on that app?”
Her eyes narrow. “You know I’m not.”
“I don’t know shit. I’m a little mind-boggled right now to tell you the truth.”
“It’s nothing to you, but no, I’m not sleeping with anyone at all. App or otherwise.”
“Good answer.”
“Oh, go to hell with your good answer bullshit,” she says. “How many women have you slept with this week?”
I don’t even blink. “Zero.”
She does blink.
Something in our exchange calms her a touch. She starts to talk but closes her mouth instead. We watch each other like we’re having a staring contest. The longer we sit like this, the closer she gets to smiling. I hate to tell her, but I’m content with sitting here until the buffet closes because I haven’t even begun to process this.
“Do you need anything?” A waitress approaches us, she’s unknowingly coming upon a den of wounded badgers. “Drinks? Buffet slips?”
Without taking my eyes off Mariah, I twist slightly in my seat. “I’ll tip you one way or the other, but can you give us a few minutes alone?”
“Sure thing.”
Mariah breaks eye contact and checks to see if she’s gone.
“I can’t believe this,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re History Hunk. I mean, it makes sense. I just never even imagined it.”
“Are you saying I’m a hunk?”
She doesn’t dignify that with a response.
“Nerdy Nurse, huh?” I grin. “That was tricky. Not that I would’ve expected you of all people to be hiding out under a fake name on a sex app, but I wouldn’t have looked for you as a nurse.”
“That was Whitney,” she sighs. “My friend made the account for me and kind of threw it in my lap. I didn’t want an account because of my job and working in the school and all and, besides, pretending to be someone else was fun.”
Her hands cover her face again. There’s no suppressing my chuckle this time. It earns me a glare, but there’s no anger there. Just a beautiful girl trying to hide behind a façade.
We sit in silence for a few minutes, her playing with the salt shaker and me tapping against the screen of her phone. There are questions for days I could pepper her with, jokes for years. I could pop just by watching her flush that pretty shade of pink.
“This is mortifying,” she breathes.
“What’s wrong with it?” I ask. Leaning on the table, my hands clasped in front of me, I look her dead in the eye. “I wanted to fuck you when you were Mariah. I wanted to fuck you when you were the other you. Whatever,” I say, confusing myself. “The point is this doesn’t change anything. It just means I’m insanely attracted to you.”
She bats her eyes like I misspoke and she’s waiting on me to clarify what I mean. I could keep talking but decide it’s better for the silence to make the point for me.
“What do we do now?” she asks. “I have to see you every day.”
“Is sex on or off the table? I mean, I’ll do it on or off. I have no problems with table sex,” I tease. Visions of her round ass in the air, my hands gripping each globe as I slide into her warm pussy send a shot of heat straight to my balls.
“Not what I meant.”
“Yeah, you’re right. We both know sex is on the table. It’s really a question of whether you’ll allow me to participate or if you’re just going to keep using your fingers and pretending they’re mine.”
She leans closer. “Stop it.”
I think she likes the proximity, so I back away. The corners of her lips drop just enough to be noticeable and enough to tell me I’m right.
If I back away and it makes her come around, how can I be blamed for that? Answer: I can’t. At least not in a way I could feel guilt over. God knows I’m avoiding that fucker.
“You know what?” I say, getting to my feet. “You’re right. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable and you’ve been very clear you want me to stop.”
She’s not sure whether to buy this line of bullshit or not. But as I scoot her phone across the table and it hits the side of her purse with a thud, she slumps.
This is a go-for-broke kind of thing and I don’t want to be broke. I swipe my wallet from my pocket and hope I’m a good shot.
“Did you have anything? I’ll pay,” I say, forcing myself to ignore the look on her face. I pull a twenty that’s sticking out and toss it on the table. “Want me to walk you out?”
She pulls her brows together. We both know she’s waiting on the rest of it, the very Lance-like addition to every sentence I can get away with. I surprise us both with my willpower and don’t give it to her.
But damn if I don’t want to give it to her.
“Okay.” Her possessions get compiled to
gether as if they’re the most interesting things in the world. She stands and heads to the door. This time, I make it a point not to touch her.
Thirteen
Mariah
Each step leads me closer to the door. Each fall of my foot has me holding my breath and waiting for the moment his palm touches the small of my back. By the time I’m halfway to the door, I itch to turn around and find him. He’s there. The ripple of whatever moves between us when we’re near each other is roaring, almost knocking me on my ass.
On its own, that’s enough. But coupled with the newfound knowledge that Lance is also History Hunk, is like going from a Category One storm to a Six in a second flat. Here I am, in a little tattered sailboat, trying to navigate this hellacious situation. The only thing that might help me stay afloat is him reaching out for me.
“Let me get the door for you,” he offers. More than enough room is taken to walk around me. “Here you go.”
I look at the floor all the way out, not sure what to think of all this distance. I hate it. But something about it feels almost normal in a really sad way. It reminds me of Eric and his lack of physical attention. “Thanks.”
The sun is bright, making me squint, as I step outside. The door snaps closed but I plow forward. It’s more than embarrassment now. It’s a fear of rejection. It’s knowing who I’m dealing with and wondering how I’m going to internalize it when he’s in my office on Monday making plans to bed some other woman. What do I do? Grin and bear it? Because there’s no doubt that’s what he’s going to do. He’s unapologetically Lance.
My pace quickens and I spy my car at the end of the row. I don’t notice the custom pearly-purple paint job on the SUV on my left until it’s too late.
“Good morning, honey.” My mother removes her oversized sunglasses, her keys dangling in her hand. “What are you doing here?”
“Just had lunch.”
I’m ten, maybe twelve steps from my car. Shuffling that way, I can cut it down to eight. Possibly six.
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