“What would Miguel say if he knew you were giving me a massage?” he asked. “If I found out my girlfriend had been rubbing some other guy’s shoulders, I’d be pretty pissed.”
With two short sentences, he took the power back again. Just like always.
“First of all,” I said, increasing my force on his shoulders, “until
you stop screwing around that’s something you don’t need to worry about. And second of all, I’m fairly sure Miguel would understand this is a massage, nothing more.”
“Hey, take it easy,” Radleigh said, hunching up at my vice-like grip. “I get the message. I shouldn’t have said anything, and I can’t take an argument right now, so please can you forgive me and maybe ease the pressure?”
I dropped my hands down to my sides and sighed. “Why do you always need to annoy me just when we’re actually managing to have a conversation?”
“I enjoy flirting with you. I went too far.”
“You always go too far.”
“Well if you weren’t so damn hot, I’d be able to control myself.”
“You’re not a horny teenager, you’re a grown man!” I said, ignoring the stirring sensation inside me.
Hypocrite.
“There is a teenager inside every man,” Radleigh stated. “Even Miguel.”
“Miguel is nothing like you.”
An internal battle was happening inside him, I could see it in his eyes. To his credit, he kept his thoughts to himself but it didn’t mean I couldn’t hear and feel every one of them.
The same way he seemed to hear and feel every one of mine.
****
On Tuesday morning, I did something a little crazy. To prove I didn’t buy into Radleigh’s unspoken theory that I had more in common with him than Miguel, I agreed to spend the morning exploring Phoenix with him. I needed to pick up a tacky souvenir from Arizona for my collection anyway. Perhaps if he got to see me at my dorkiest, he’d realise we were worlds apart in terms of, well, everything.
Radleigh came to my room just after nine, while I was trying to straighten my hair. I let him in and told him to make himself comfortable while I finished off.
My hair was being particularly stubborn, and looking at the frizzy mess in the bathroom mirror, I sighed. Some days it was easier to avoid the hassle and scrape it back out of the way. It wasn’t like I had anyone I needed to look good for.
When I stepped out of the bathroom, Radleigh was sitting on the edge of my bed, talking on his mobile phone. I put my straighteners into my suitcase then hunted round the room for my key card.
“No, she’s out of the bathroom now,” I heard him say, and the words halted my search. Why is he talking about me? A jolt of realisation made me spring in to action and I snatched my phone from his hand, shooting him a poisonous glare. If I hadn’t been so considerate and stopped myself listening in, I might have realised sooner that he had answered my mobile.
“Hello,” I said, annoyance prominent in my tone.
How the fuck dare he pick up my phone without permission?
“Leah?”
“Hi Bree, sorry about that.”
“Um, why is Radleigh McCoy in your room so early?”
“We’re going to have a look around Phoenix. Why?”
“Are you dressed?”
“What?” I laughed. “Of course I am!”
“He said you were in the shower.”