“Oh, you know, still a piece of shit as always. His girlfriend is knocked up. About five months or so by the looks of it.”
Gina freaks out. I bring pasta to her and sit in the chair opposite, listening to her rant while I eat. It really is a nice change of pace to have someone else point out all of his flaws for a change.
“Did you call Ram?” she asks.
I stop eating and look down at my plate. Suddenly my stomach is full of butterflies and I can’t take another bite.
“Yeah, actually, I did.”
I tell her about the drunken texts, running into him in front of the studio where he’d been working, and then him going down on me in the parking lot at the beach.
When I’m done she takes a drink of her wine and slowly puts it down as if she were being purposefully slow in order to come up with something to say. By the look on her face, it isn’t good and I have to steel myself for a lecture.
“You’re beaming when you talk about him,” she says.
I shrug. “He’s a good time. I’ve never been able to come before with a guy going down on me. It was almost spiritual,” I joke—well, kind of. It was pretty damn heavenly, that’s for sure.
She wipes her mouth. This takes an obscene amount of time. I frown, waiting for her to get to the point. “I just want you to be careful around him. You’re all starry-eyed, but you know he’s not someone you can ever date, right? I mean, he’s the Bed Shaker. A one-and-done sex machine. You can’t take him seriously.”
“That’s just his reputation. He might be the Bed Shaker, but he’s still a person behind the reputation. You talk about him as if he’s nothing more than a vibrator.”
As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I’m surprised by them. Why the hell am I defending this man—who I don’t know anything about—to Gina, the girl who introduced him to me in the first place?
I know she’s right, of course. I was never under the illusion that he and I could be anything more than fuck buddies. I can’t imagine a man who’s built a reputation such as his, letting all of that go to be with one woman.
“Just look at his Instagram comments, Cadie. Look at the way these women throw themselves at him. Even if you did date someone like that, do you think after the shiny top-coat of a new relationship wore off, he could resist the temptation?”
I take her phone from her and scroll through the comments. It’s worse than porn. These women have no filter and will say anything to get into his pants.
I hand the phone back, feeling deflated. My thoughts are in a tangle and so are my emotions. All of this bullshit with Evan must be making me desperate. There’s no way I would ever want to date someone as pursued as Ram. My self-esteem couldn’t handle that.
“You’re right, I’m so stupid. I swear I won’t fall for him. It was just a good time and an escape from my shitty life.”
Gina sets down her plate of pasta on the coffee table. Bad idea. Hercules sees his opportunity and takes it. His face is in the plate, eating it up. Gina is more concerned with my feelings than food and comes over to sit on the edge of my chair. She runs her fingers through my hair.
“You’re not stupid. You’re a beautiful, perfect, trusting person who tends to fall for the wrong guys. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
I lean my head against her and smile. “I know.”
That night, I eat my weight in pasta and garlic bread and try to forget men exist.
9
Ram
The next day I pick up Tim and we head to work. I’m all smiles after my time on the beach with Cadie. He knows something’s up and won’t stop staring at me.
“You’re giddy as a school girl, Ram,” he says with a smile in his voice.
I shrug. “You know how these things go.”
“I’ve never seen you light up like this after being with one of your lady friends. Maybe she’s the one that’ll finally be able to tame you.”
His words startle the smile right off my face. He laughs. “Scared you, did I?”
Well, yeah, he did, actually. Not just his words, but also the fact that I haven’t even thought of a single other woman since that night she invited me over. Just the thought of being near her again brings a knot to my stomach and I forget to breathe. After the time we shared on the beach, I might be addicted. And it’s not just the sex, which is even more concerning. I realize I would be perfectly content just to curl up on the couch and watch TV with her. I’d rather spend a night rubbing her feet than go hook up with some chick and have empty sex.
Jesus, I’m screwed. I want to hate this new me, but that would mean hating the idea of spending all my days and nights with Cadie, and I can’t manage to convince myself that it’s a bad thing.
Tim’s laughter roars in the cab. “You look like a buck stuck in the headlights. Relax, I was just kidding.”
Maybe he was, but I have a terrifying feeling that he might be right.
I pull my truck into the parking lot of the same building where I ran into Cadie. I see her standing next to a car, trying to find something in her purse, and my heart nearly stops. How does she manage to look radiant in stretch pants and an over-sized t-shirt? That’s not fair to other women. No one stands a chance when she’s nearby. I take in an audible breath that doesn’t get passed Tim.
“Better go say hi,” Tim says in that conspiratorial tone of his.
I get out of the truck and follow her, not wanting to call out and embarrass her while there are other people in the parking lot. I don’t know if I’m a secret she wants to keep from from her friends. For some reason that thought bothers me. I don’t want to be her secret.
I slip into the building and stay a few paces behind her. She hasn’t noticed me yet and I don’t want her to. For just a moment I want a private glimpse into her world without interference. I want to see what this girl is all about.
I realize the building is some kind of studio. We pass rooms with stages and dance floors and mirrors covering the walls. She’s either an actress or some kind of dancer. This intrigues me. She definitely has the body of a dancer, and those long legs …
Come to think of it, she picked up on surfing almost instantly. Her balance was the best I’d seen out of all my students.
She disappears into one of the rooms. It has a stage and a small audience in the stands— it looks like other dancers from the way they’re dressed. I slip inside undetected and slouch down in the back row. The only light in the room comes from a spotlight on the stage, so I’m fairly certain I won’t be caught.
She walks toward a woman in the front row of the stands and talks to her for a moment before setting her things down and taking the stage alone. I sit up straighter and lean forward, resting my fist and chin on the back of the chair in front of me.
Music comes on. It’s a slow, haunting song that gives me chills. Then she starts to dance. She’s all long, extended limbs that stretch and contract, a powerfully built machine. Extraterrestrial. She moves her body in ways that don’t seem humanly possible. She’s grace and strength, a horse charging through a field, a crane barely moving water when it lands. I’m captivated and for a moment, I forget about Tim waiting for me at the jobsite.
&n
bsp; Shit, I have to go, but I don’t want to. I could watch her move like that every day of my life and never get bored. The song comes to a smooth end and so does her dance. I slip out of the room.
As I’m walking back out to the truck I hear the light patter of bare feet behind me.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I know that voice, warm whiskey on a cold day, sultry, sexy. I turn to face Cadie and put my hands in my pockets. “Working.”
“I just saw you slip out of the audition room. You were watching me,” she says, her words clipped with anger.
“You’re beautiful on that stage, and powerful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Her cheeks turn a pretty rose color and she looks at the tile on the floor. “I’m not that good or I would’ve landed a gig by now.”
I frown. How could people not want to watch her dance? How could that creature I saw on the stage not captivate everyone?
“I’d give anything to watch that again,” I say in all honesty.
When she looks up, that angry furl of her brow is still there, and something else—shock, maybe. She strides toward me, and at first she looks pissed, like she might hit me. Her hands reach out. She grabs the sides of my face and puts her lips to mine. As soon as I open my mouth to say something, her tongue slips in and whatever words I was about to say are forgotten. We’re tangled in a passionate kiss and it seems neither of us cares who sees.
Reluctantly, I pull away. Her lips are raw and pink, her eyes drunk with lust. “I have to get back to work. Meet me tonight at my place. I’ll text you the address,” I say.
She looks as reluctant to walk away as I feel, but nods.
I buzz around my house, getting everything just perfect. I set out wine and also water just in case she’s still having flashbacks and doesn’t feel like drinking. I’ve never been the host before. It’s always me going to women’s houses. Mostly so I don’t get stalkers. I rarely even give them more than my first name.