I phoned in sick, and called an emergency meeting with my girls.
“I’m thinking he didn’t sleep with her,” Mia says as she snaps a picture of me.
“That’s very optimistic Mia. Did I mention her nipples were visible through her white T-shirt?”
“Ass,” Paige mumbles as she works on the computer.
“How’s this photo?” Mia is holding her phone under my eyes so I can see the head shot she just took of me.
I’m peering at the picture, wondering what reason Mia has for thinking he didn’t have sex with Amber. I can’t think her name without a bolt of jealously striking me directly in the heart. “Can’t we do this with a regular camera?” I ask as I look at the washed out photo.
“It’s easier this way.” She shoots a few more pictures as Paige begins to ask me personal questions.
“Hobbies.”
“I don’t have any.”
“Yes you do, you work out.”
“That was my hobby with Damian. I highly doubt we’ll be doing that anymore.”
“I’m putting kickboxing on here. You did that before Damian came along and now you can pretend you’re kicking his ass.”
I don’t want to kick Damian’s ass. I want to go back to two nights ago and take back that one word—erase the unease that’s invaded my system the past two days.
I peer over her shoulder. “Match.com? Isn’t there a better site we can use?”
“Nope, this is the one that’s going to get you back on your feet.”
“Unless of course you want to call Matt back.” Paige is taunting me.
“I’m not calling him and I’m not moving to New York.” Was I so different five years ago that he’d think a fancy lifestyle is what I’m looking for? Does he not know me at all or maybe we never really knew each other to begin with.
After Damian and his leggy one-nighter left me alone on the balcony, I spent the day on my couch eating ice cream and watching re-runs of American Ninja Warrior, which has done wonders for my self-confidence.
Not.
But seriously, now that these two have come over and demanded I do something to mix things up a bit, I’m slightly on board. Online dating could be fun. Right?
Maybe a little?
Who am I kidding. I can’t think of anything worse.
“Kill the account, Mia. I don’t want to meet someone online. I’m not ready.”
“Too late. I’ve got you set up . . . and it looks like you already have a match.”
“Um, desperate much. Don’t go for it, Addison, probably a rapist. Mia. Set her up with that chef you were telling me about,” Paige continues.
“Who? Lance?”
“I don’t know! You interviewed him a few weeks ago.”
Mia’s eyes widen. “Yeah, good idea. He’s great, super cute and . . .” as she continues to discuss the benefits of some guy named Lance, there’s a knock on my door. I’m half listening to her description as I open it wide.
“Hi.” His deep masculine voice punches me in the chest, his grin making my insides liquefy. But a vision of Amber, with her see through shirt clouds my brain and that intense heat of desire quickly turns to one of anger.
“Damian.”
“Can I come in?” His voice is low, his eyes filled with something that looks a lot like remorse, and I’m still angry . . . hurt . . . embarrassed at being so easily replaced. I know I messed up, said something I shouldn’t have, but how could he move on so quickly?
I peek my head out of the door and over to his place. “No you can’t. Where’s Amber by the way?”
He grins, and . . . it’s sexy. One side of his lip curls up while his eyes brighten. I hate that grin. It makes my knees weak and gives my stomach butterflies.
“Most likely at home.”
He’s leaning against my doorframe and it’s making me uncomfortable. He’s too casual for the interaction we had this morning, too content with this conversation, as I’m getting angrier by the second. I’m feeling on the outs of some big secret and I don’t like it one bit.
“Did you need something?” I finally ask.
“I’m about to go running. Come with me.”
Is he crazy? “No.”
He stands up straight. “No?”
“Um, yeah, that’s what I said. Have fun.” Was he not on the balcony with us this morning? Did he think it wouldn’t bother me that he brought another woman home? I begin to close the door on him and he sticks his foot out to block it.
“Don’t steal my move, Offside.” I’m not wearing any shoes, but that doesn’t stop me from kicking at his Nike clad foot.
“You’re going to break a toe if you keep that up, Green Eyes.”
“So move your damn foot.”
Suddenly the door is opening and despite using every ounce of strength I have, he’s barged his way inside my apartment. He doesn’t stop as he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder, continuing towards my room.
“Put me down!” Rage is boiling inside my blood stream. I want nothing to do with him right now and probably forever. My legs are kicking wildly, and my hands are slapping at his back. His grip on me is too strong and I’m much too small to fight against this.
“Ladies,” he says to Mia and Paige who are sitting in my living room, their eyes wide in surprise.
“I am not running with you, Damian. I don’t run with asshats!”
He spanks me. The cocky son of a bitch spanks me. “Don’t call me names, Addison. It isn’t nice.”
“Nice? You want to discuss nice? How about kissing your neighbor then bringing some floozy home? How’s that for nice?”
“Oh, that kiss was nice. What was even nicer was the sex I had with my drunk off her ass neighbor only to find out it was a mistake.”
“Well, Mr. I don’t do casual, you certainly blew that title right out of the park last night with your nice new girlfriend.”
“Yes, I did have a nice evening now that you mention it.”
All the fight leaves me at once. My body folding over his shoulder, my legs stilling their movements and my arms dangling down his back. He had a nice evening.
That kind of sucks.
All day I’d held onto a glimmer of hope that it wasn’t as bad as my mind made it out to be. That Amber was . . . I don’t know . . . his masseuse?
Damian slides me down the front of him, like a wet noodle who can’t stand straight. He holds me up.
“Nothing happened with Amber.” His arms are around me, his eyes searching for some sort of sign that I’m hearing him.
I look up confused.
“I know her from a long time ago. She was drunk and needed a place to crash. I slept on the couch.”
“But she was . . . practically naked.”
“I know. We have a past; she’s comfortable around me. But nothing happened.”
They have a past? Is that supposed to make me feel any better?
“A long time ago past, Addison. I haven’t touched her in years, and I’m not about to start now. Reed and I bumped into her and a group of friends last night, and we partied a little too hard. I really was doing her a favor letting her crash at my place, and this morning I was trying my best to get her out of there. When I woke up she was in my shirt, I have no idea how she got that way, but I hustled her out pretty quickly after you saw her.”
“She was . . . touching you.”
Damn, that grin appears again. “Only for a few seconds.”
“Get your running clothes on, Addison, and meet me out front in ten.”
“You know, you’re kind of an asshole when you’re angry.”
Lying in the grass at the park by the beach and staring up at the stars, she’s finally gotten her breathing under control after I made her run the last quarter mile in a sprint. Our arms are side by side, barely touching and with that comment, I take her hand in mine. My heart, which had been scattered the past few days, finally feels at rest as I feel her soft skin in mine. I don’t like that she works for Thomas and I hate that she may be put on Emily’s case, but I’ll figure out a way to make this work. I have to.