Nothing.
I fold up the couch for her, shove the cushions back into place and then settle in, checking my phone. I ignore the texts from my agent—she can wait—ignore the text from my father—he can definitely wait—and read the one text I received from Mia.
My ex-girlfriend.
Miss u! Get 2gether soon?
We broke up over a year ago, after my career got in the way of our relationship. As in, I was rarely home, or always busy, so I never spent enough time with her. I do see her on occasion because we’re…
Fuck buddies.
Her “get 2gether soon” is total code for “wanna fuck”? And most of the time, I meet up with her, we have dinner, we talk, we have a few drinks and then we get down to business.
No fu
ss. No strings. She’s the perfect hookup because she’s become just as busy as I am. She’s an influencer whose fashion blog and Instagram took off right after we broke up. Mia likes to say that thanks to my breaking up with her, her life has never been better.
The last six months, I started to wonder if Mia and I could make the perfect relationship work after all. She doesn’t demand much of my time, which is a plus. She’s so busy now, she’s not sitting at home wondering when she can see me again. That would be ideal. I always felt guilty, having to cancel plans with her. With the women I’ve dated in the past, I canceled on them all damn time.
Not that there’s been a lot. After Amanda broke up with me, I steered clear from women in general. They were too much trouble. Too demanding of my time, which I have so little of.
And now here I am, sitting on Amanda’s couch, waiting for her to finish with her shower so I can take her to dinner. Once dinner is over, I want to take her back to my place, and show her my bedroom. Just like I did all those years ago, when I was trying my damnedest to convince her I wanted her.
No one else.
Just her.
My phone buzzes with a text notification and I check to see it’s another one from Mia.
U busy tonite? Wld luv 2 c u
One thing I’ve always disliked about Mia was her adolescent texting style. It’s like she can’t spell out a word to save her life, yet she somehow can string together coherent sentences in her blog and Instagram posts. But I usually never let that bother me.
Not really.
Until now, at this very moment. Amanda is one of the smartest people I know. I’ve always respected that girl—that’s what drew me to her. I’m just as attracted to her face and body as I am to her very attractive, very intelligent brain.
Can’t get together tonight, I text Mia. Have plans.
Her response is immediate.
:( :( Maybe some other time?
This is where it gets tricky. Where I have to admit to myself that I don’t want to see Mia anymore because I’m hoping this rekindling with Amanda could possibly work.
Could it, though? Could it, really?
I stare at my phone screen for way too long. Long after the shower shuts off and I can hear Amanda open and close drawers, catch the sound of a muttered curse from behind her bathroom door. I smile, wishing I could barge in there and rip her towel off. Plop her sexy butt onto the edge of the counter and kiss her until she melts into me, lets me touch her, lets me…
My fingers fly over the keyboard without thought.
I’ve met someone else, Mia. Take care.
I was too anxious about taking the shower. As in, I forgot to bring in clothes to change into. I’m just a girl standing in front of a mirror completely naked, a towel barely wrapped around me, my hair done, my makeup done, and no clean clothes to put on. Not even a pair of panties.
Talk about awkward.
One of the drawbacks of living in my studio apartment is I don’t have any real closet space. So I have to get creative. Like, my dresser/armoire is sitting out in the living area. Where Jordan is. How am I supposed to walk out there and tell him, hey, don’t mind me! I need to grab some undies and an outfit to change into!