“Because that’s my prerogative. I don’t owe you an explanation. I don’t have to want you. Just like you don’t have to explain anything to me. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go speak to my date now.”
He looks like he’s on the verge of being pissed, but a slow smile curves his lips again. “Good luck with that. Looks like he didn’t think he was going to be chosen. Can’t blame him really, considering the competition.”
I turn my head in time to see Barry walking out the door, and I groan inwardly as he hurriedly gets in the car and speeds off. I stare for much longer than necessary because I don’t feel like seeing the triumph in Ethan’s eyes.
When I finally do turn back around, there’s money lying on the table—more than enough to cover the bill Barry ducked out on—and my phone is curiously setting on the table as well. I could have sworn it was in my purse.
Ever think of all the things you wish you would have said or done when it was still relevant? Yeah. I’m having one of those moments. I should have gotten loud and told the restaurant he has a tiny dick… or something a little more creative than that.
Instead, I’m fuming, wishing I had said or done anything other than just take it. I never take shit like that. Ever. Why now? Has he got me that off-kilter?
Standing up and ignoring all the nosy eyes on me, I grab my phone and call my best friend. I need someone to keep me from doing something stupid.
Stupid would be going to the hospital, finding Ethan’s full name and address, and strangling him in his sleep.
I’m sooo close to doing just that…
Chapter 5
ETHAN
She’s nobody. She’s nothing. She’s just some random chick who judged me.
So what if I felt her damn hand on my cheek? That was probably a fluke. It’s happened before. Okay, so it’s only happened with one other person or when I’ve been surprised, but it was still a fluke. That’s all.
She probably thinks I’m some loser without a job who sits around all day in his underwear watching porn or something.
Okay, so I currently don’t have a job, but that’s because I’ve spent a decade killing myself for my father’s company. I even spent my twenty-eighth birthday working for nineteen straight hours, and had a slice of pie in between conference calls.
I have more than enough money to kick back and live easily for the rest of my life and then some. I also still have stock in the company that will generate a generous income as long as the company thrives.
Why am I sitting here reassuring myself? I’m not a fucking chick. This doesn’t bother me.
Damn her for touching me.
Groaning, I grab my phone and do something stupid. I acknowledge the fact that I broke a few boundary rules by texting her. Yeah, that’s right. I went into her purse yesterday—like an asshole—took out her phone, and called myself so that I’d have her number—like a creeper. To be fair, she should get a security lock if she doesn’t want random people using her phone.
ME: Are you with the virgin, or do you want to grab some food?
I’m pretty sure that’s not going to work, but fuck it. Gotta start the conversation somehow.
It takes about fifteen seconds to get a response.
BELLA: You have got to be fucking kidding me. Is this Ethan? How the hell did you get my number?
ME: Food or no?
BELLA: Hell no. And lose my hummer!
Hummer?
I start to question that, when she immediately sends another text.
BELLA: NUMBER not hummer! Asshole.
Why am I the asshole? I didn’t make her type the wrong word.
ME: I’m bored. Send me something dirty if you won’t grab some food with me.