The feeling was not rational, but it was powerful. Enough so I felt the need to offer him an excuse.
“He surprised me with tickets. That’s the only reason I went to see you with him.”
His jaw clenched, and he tossed down his napkin, nostrils flared. “And by him, you mean…”
“Yes, Andrew.”
“Don’t. Please, don’t say his name to me.”
That had me bristling. “Tone it down, will you? Don’t ask the question if you don’t want the answer. You haven’t been an angel yourself. In fact, if we’re keeping score, you have a lot more names in your column that I don’t ever want to hear you utter.”
He didn’t say a word, but his eyes screamed at me. This was a hurtful subject, for both of us, and we needed to get way better at avoiding it.
When he finally spoke again, his face was composed, his voice calm. “Well, you need to come see the show again, alone. That’s all there is to it. I’ll snag you a balcony for tonight.”
“How about this? I’ll come see you, but not on a night when you’re performing with anyone that you have f**ked or are f**king.”
It came out harsh, but that was how I meant it. This was harsh stuff, for both of us. And I was not going to sit through another one of his shows, with f**king Mona assisting him.
He took a deep breath. “Jesus. I’m not f**king any of the assistants, if that’s what you mean.”
I set my jaw hard before I could say her name. “Not even Mona?”
He winced, and I had to restrain from shouting out an immature, ‘Ah hah’.
“Not even her.”
Well that was something, but certainly not everything. There was so much wiggle room in ‘not f**king.’ It could mean he’d only stopped yesterday, for all I knew. “I said, have f**ked, too.”
He looked unhappy. “Okay, I’ll get you set up in the balcony on another day, when she’s not working, but I want to come by your house when I’m done tonight.”
“No.” I didn’t elaborate or offer any excuses.
“We’ll play a round of ‘tell me something.’”
That was tempting, but not quite tempting enough. “God, I almost forgot about that stupid game.” I fought not to smile. “But no.”
“I want to see your house. I want the tour.”
I snorted. “Not likely. I’ve been to your house twice, and I haven’t even seen the second floor. You aren’t getting a tour of mine until I get one of yours.”
“Okay. Come by my house tonight. I’ll give you a key, and you can let yourself in and wait for me.”
“No.”
“Okay. Back to the original plan. I’ll be by your place later tonight.”
“I work in the morning. If you want to come by after a performance, at least do it when I’m off the next day.”
He smiled big. “Tomorrow night then. That’s perfect.”
I glared at him. He’d done it again. That tactic seemed to work on me every time. “You can only get away with that trick so many times before I stop falling for it.”
“I can live with that. I’ll just move onto another one. You’re forgetting just how many tricks I have up my sleeve.”
I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t seem to stop smiling.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DANIKA
I found myself challenged with the issue of non-dressing up for his visit to my house. Obviously, by the time he showed up after his show, it would be late at night, and I’d look like I was trying too hard if I was still dressed up for work.
I changed my clothes four times in the hours I waited for him.
Also, I typed out three texts to him, canceling our plans, because what were we thinking? This wasn’t even dinner, which was bad enough.
This was straight-up booty call hours.
In the end, no texts were sent.
I was only human, and I wanted to see him.
Why did he have to be so much fun on top of everything else? It was just so unfair. And so addictive.
I put on a pair of gray sweatpants and a slouchy, off the shoulder gray sweatshirt. This was outfit number one, my ‘It’s past my bedtime, and I’m not even trying to be sexy for you’ getup. I put my hair up in a messy ponytail, put on makeup that made it look like I wasn’t wearing makeup, and then stared at myself in the full-length mirror in my bedroom for a solid five minutes.
I went into my home office and caught up on work for less than ten minutes before I headed back into my closet and changed.
I switched into some white cheer shorts, but left the sweatshirt on. This was outfit number two, my ‘I’m dressing down, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be a little bit sexy’ getup.
That one lasted less than five minutes.
I changed into a half shirt that barely covered my br**sts (I had to dig deep in my closet to find this one) and rolled the waistband of my white shorts up, making them miniscule. I took my bra off and my hair down. This was outfit number three, my ‘Let’s see how long you can last until we’re f**king tonight’ getup.
That outfit lasted nearly an hour, and my vibrator got some serious attention just because of where my mind went when I thought of how he’d react to seeing me dressed in it.