She sidles up to him, tracing a small circle onto his chest. “But can’t we do this again?”
He shakes his head again, more definitive this time.
Her finger quickly falls away. “Okay,” she says, sounding on the verge of tears. “I guess I’ll just catch a cab then.”
To my utter disgust, he reaches his hand out, a rolled up twenty between his fingers. “For the cab,” he remarks.
“Fuck off!” she seethes, pushing past him. “You’re an asshole.”
With no reaction from him, she walks away. I wonder if this is how his hook-ups usually end. If there’s a long path of pissed off women in his wake.
He closes the door, staring at it for longer than necessary. I want to run away, but there’s nowhere for me to go. Besides, I ran here and look where it got me. “What the hell was that?” he finally asks.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I just got home from my date.” I put extra emphasis the last word. “I heard noises, and I went in to make sure you were okay.”
He tugs at his hair, lifting his eyes to the barren ceiling. “Don’t fucking toy with me, Lila. What the fuck was that?”
He needs to feel the sharp edge of the blade. He needs to know what he’s done to me. Reaching my hands back, I work my zipper down, feeling the tight bodice loosen around my stomach. I slip one sleeve off my shoulder, then the other. My breasts exposed. My lacy, green panties the only thing that covers me.
His eyes find me, full of want . . . finally hinting at guilt. Or maybe that’s just what I think I see. He saunters to me, I take a couple steps toward him. I rest my hand flat on his bare chest; his heart beats viciously against it.
I imprison my heart to try to keep it from feeling as my fingers slide down his taut stomach. My eyes cloud over anyway.
He grips my hips. I stare up at him, remembering how good it can feel to be with him like this.
“What are we doing?” he asks in a low voice.
I slip my hand lower, wrapping my fingers around his swollen cock. His breath hitches, his fingers digging deeper into my skin.
Standing on my tiptoes, I bring my lips to his ear. “This is me saying goodbye, Blake. I’d say fuck you, but she already did.”
My hands fall away from him as I step out of his grasp. I never had the strength to do this with Derek—put a painful, sharp period at the end of our relationship. I gather the silky dress from the floor and stalk off to my bedroom without another word.
I don’t look back. I can’t let him see me fall apart.
He doesn’t come after me or call my name. All I have left to do is lie in the bed I made for myself . . . the one he tore the covers off for me.
“LILA!” REECE PRACTICALLY SQUEALS, coming around the corner of my cubicle. “Why didn’t you answer when I called you yesterday? I’ve been dying to hear about the benefit.”
I bury my face in my hands, trying to hide the disappointment I know shows as clear as day. Friday night with Blake was possibly one of the best nights of my life—most memorable anyway. Saturday night—the part after the benefit—was a perfect view straight into hell. It’s a bad memory, permanently burned in full color into my mind.
“I’m sorry. I spent the day in bed,” I answer, finding the courage to uncover my eyes, exposing my dark circles from lack of sleep. I spent the morning telling people that I wasn’t feeling well. If I keep at it, it’ll probably become true. Karma is a spiteful little bitch.
“With Pierce?” She sounds so enthusiastic about it, I almost want to lie, go with her fairy tale. Tell her he carried me up the stairs to sooth my aching feet, then slowly undressed me and made sweet love to me until the sun came up.
Shaking myself from my thoughts, I say, “No, Pierce drove me home Saturday night. The closest we were was a dance . . . I promise.”
“You’re kidding me. He didn’t invite you to his place? I bet he has a huge penthouse, with an amazing view and a king size bed.”
“I didn’t exactly give him a chance.”
Her brows wrinkle as she takes me in. I’m a mess; I don’t need a mirror, or her, to tell me that. “Have you had lunch yet?”
Looking down at the clock on my computer screen, I notice it’s almost one. “If you’re inviting me, I guess I can peel myself away from this desk for a few minutes.”
“You can, and you will. You’re losing weight, I swear.”
I roll my eyes. Life has been so busy since I’ve moved here that it’s become normal to skip meals, especially on days like today when I don’t feel much like eating. “I’ll choke down a banana.”
“You’ll do more than that. A sandwich and a banana. Let’s up that and make it a fried chicken sandwich.”
I log off my computer and grab my purse from under my desk. This is going to suck. It’s why depressed people close themselves off; they’d rather not talk about any of it. She’s going to push—ask me what I wore, what he wore. She’s going to want to know what it was like when he dropped me off . . . did he try to kiss me. And if she even thinks about asking about Blake, I’m a goner.
We make our way to the cafeteria, discussing our current work projects instead of men. Our passion for doing our best no matter what is the one thing we have in common.
We keep conversation to a minimum while we pick up our lunch, but all bets are off when we’re seated at our usual table in the corner.
“So, you haven’t mentioned Blake. How is he?”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“He’s Blake.”
She sighs. “Start talking.”
Quadruple shit. “He’s a jerk.”
“You’re going to have to give me more than that,” she says, slipping a grape between her lips.
I inhale a deep breath, looking around to make sure no one is listening. “Okay, so I thought I could do this whole . . . I don’t know what you call it . . . no-strings-attached relationship. I forgot that I’m a woman, and we can’t control our feelings.”
She nibbles on the edge of her sandwich, watching me intently.
“And he does things . . . says things. I just can’t keep sleeping with him without getting more out of it. I mean, I spent Friday with him, and it was amazing. Like beyond anything I’ve ever imagined, but when I told him about Pierce and the benefit, he couldn’t commit. So here I am.” I throw my hands up in defeat. That’s what I am I’ve decided—hopelessly unlovable. Derek didn’t even want to marry me after spending seven years together.
Her eyes look like the grapefruits I passed in the lunch line. “He didn’t care that you were going with Pierce?”
I think back to the other night . . . the look in his eyes, his words. “I wouldn’t say that. But I did find out they know each other.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep, and they hate each other.” The scene in the hall replays in my mind. Definitely no love lost between them.
“Well, that is interesting. Do you know why?”
“Not really. Except they worked together once.”
My mind wanders to that and the parts of this weekend I left out—the parts that make me not want to care about Blake or how Pierce knows him. Men keep fucking up my life little by little.
“Lila.” I lift my gaze to Pierce who stands next to our table with his hands stuffed in his slate blue suit pockets.
“Hi,” I answer, feeling every bit a high school girl when a hot guy sidles up during lunch. I even tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. Nice, Lila.
“I hate to interrupt, but when you’re done with your lunch, can you join me in my office for a few minutes?”
Reece’s legs bounce against mine under the table. If I say no, she’ll haul me out to the parking lot and beat me until all my sense returns. “I’ll be up in a few. We were just finishing up here.”
He smiles, one side of his mouth lifting higher than the other. “I’ll be waiting. Enjoy your lunch, ladies.”