“I don’t make you uncomfortable, do I?”
“Um, no,” I lie, and for once he doesn’t call me out on it.
He lets out a long breath. “I can’t stop thinking about what you said.”
“What I said?”
“About never having a man go down on you.”
My eyes widen at his words, but I try to laugh it off. “It’s pitiful, isn’t it?”
“You should let me do it. Show you what all the fuss is about.” His smile is devilish.
I pull my hand from his and walk to the other side of the room. Facing the window, I’m unable to look at him, not knowing whether to be elated or insulted. “You’re being inappropriate.”
“Darlin’.”
Oh, don’t call me that, Jason. I melt when you call me that.
Glancing down, I see that my hands are shaking. Jesus, what’s wrong with me? He’s the most attractive man I’ve ever known. I should want this. I do want this. The problem is, I’m scared shitless.
I feel him move across the room, stopping right behind me. The heat from his body practically scorches me, and we’re not even touching. My voice is quiet when I start to speak.
“Don’t you think that might be kind of weird? You’re not my boyfriend, Jay.”
“I don’t need to be your boyfriend to do that to you, Matilda.” My name rolls off his tongue like a caress. Oh, God.
“Do you like me?” I ask, hating how insecure I sound.
“Of course I like you. I enjoy your company a lot.”
“I don’t mean in the friends way,” I soldier on disappointedly. Someone liking me as a friend isn’t the epic love I’ve been waiting my entire life for.
His hand goes to my arm as he leans his head on my shoulder, his breath hitting the back of my neck. “You have no idea,” he whispers.
A minute passes, and then his heat is gone. I turn around just in time to see him shutting my door behind him.
Eleven
The rest of the week passes quickly enough. I only ever see Jay at breakfast or during dinner. Other times he’s mostly off preparing for his show at the venue in Temple Bar. There’s been no further talk of sexual things, which is both a relief and a disappointment.
It’s all for the best, though. Jay was probably just feeling horny, and I was the only female around. The next morning I would’ve been slotted right back into the friend zone, and Jay would move on with his life while I wallowed in lovesickness. I gave up a night of pleasure to save my feelings in the long run.
On Thursday I meet up with Michelle for lunch and ask her if she wants to come with me to Jay’s show. Her answer is an enthusiastic yes.
When I go home that night, I log in to my online dating site for the first time in a while. It seems that ever since Jay moved in, I haven’t been obsessively checking my messages like I used to. Funny that.
I’ve got about five PMs from different guys. Only one of them seems decent. His name is Owen, and he’s got jet-black hair and blue eyes. A nice combination. Still, I can’t help comparing him to the golden-brown hair and hazel eyes that have been starring in my dreams of late. Owen works as a chef in a city restaurant, one I’m actually quite fond of, so that scores him some definite points. He’s two years older than I am and lives in the city centre. Deciding to be brave, and also to take my mind off my stupid crush on Jay, I write Owen a message back.
Hi, Owen,
Thanks for writing to me. I actually LOVE your restaurant! It’s such a coincidence that I eat there all the time. Anyway, to answer your question, yes, I’d like to meet up. Let me know what day and time suits you.
Matilda.
There. Short and sweet. Just what the doctor ordered. My heart pounds as I hit the “send” button. I haven’t met up with anyone from the Internet before. I’ve thought about it a lot, forever telling myself that next week would be the week. In the end I kept putting it off for so long that it became a huge thing, and I had built up this unbreakable psychological barrier.
Now I’m deciding to face my fears; otherwise, I’ll just end up spending my days admiring Jay from afar, and that’s way too pathetic, even for me.
The next night I dress ambitiously for Jay’s show in a dark purple body-con dress and heels. I do my hair in waves clipped to the side and hanging over one shoulder. Owen still hasn’t messaged me back, and I admit it’s rubbed me up the wrong way slightly. I keep telling myself that he’s probably just busy. The work of a chef is notoriously stressful.
Anyway, perhaps I’ll meet somebody interesting tonight.
I’m studying my reflection in my full-length mirror, about to put in some stud earrings, when Jay appears in my doorway. He watches me for a minute as I stare at him through the glass.
“Don’t wear the earrings,” he says.
“Why not?”
Something mischievous dances in his eyes. “Just don’t.”
“Weird request, but all right. You look good, by the way.”
He’s wearing a black shirt and matching slacks. They make him look dark and mysterious and, if I’m being honest, a little like a sexy version of the Devil.
“You look better,” he replies, and I catch my breath at the compliment. “I have to leave early to bring some stuff to the venue. You and Michelle are going for drinks first, right?”
“Yeah. The same bar as last week. It’s not too far from your show, so we should be able to walk from there.”
Jay whistles. “In those shoes? I don’t think so.”
I laugh. “I think that might be a song, you know. Michelle and I once went to see this drag queen perform on Capel Street and the guy sang it.”
Jay gives me an indulgent look before rummaging in his pocket. “Get a cab. Here’s some cash.”
He places the money down on my dresser, but I have no intention of taking it. His eyes trail up and down my body before he tells me he’ll see me later, then disappears from my doorway just as quickly as he appeared.
Drinks with Michelle are as colourful as they usually are. She tells me all about her escapades with the man from last week and how he ended up tying her to his bedpost. It wasn’t as sexy as it sounds, though, because apparently the ties kept coming loose. The guy then proceeded to have a hissy fit because his attempt at bondage wasn’t working.
I laugh into my white wine, and after one more drink we make our way to Jay’s show. He was right about one thing — I shouldn’t have walked there in my heels. When selecting my footwear earlier, I hadn’t made concessions for the cobblestones lining the alleyway that leads to the venue. I’m thinking I’ll have a few pretty blisters to contend with come tomorrow.
Surprisingly, there’s a long queue outside extending onto the next street. Definitely an excellent turnout for something he’d only started advertising five days ago. Jay told me that he’d put mine and Michelle’s names on the guest list, so we wouldn’t have to wait to get in. Michelle takes great pleasure in the fact that we get to walk past those forming an orderly line and straight to the entrance. The bouncer checks that our names are on the list and then lets us both in.
A pretty girl with short purple hair comes up to us just after we’ve left our coats in the cloakroom.
“Hey, are you Matilda?”
“That’s me.”
“Great. Come with me. Mr Fields wants you sitting in the front row.”
“Oh,” I say warily. “Why’s that?”
She shrugs. “Not sure. I’m just following orders.”
The venue is underground, and the bare brick walls are all done in colourful spray paint. One side of the room is dark, depicting fire and demons, while the other side is bright and full of heavenly angels. It’s all seated, too, with rows and rows of old-style velvety cinema chairs. Cooler than any place I’ve ever been. Even some of the people here look too cool to be real, all tattoos, piercings, and unusual clothes. There are a couple of average-looking people as well, so I don’t feel completely out of place. The purple-haired girl tells us she’ll get us whatever drinks we want from the bar, and yes, we both opt for more wine.