“Fucking women,” Aro mutters, another oversized handful of chips inching toward his mouth.
“You just told her you jizz all over your bedroom walls.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“But it’s what you said.”
He sighs, his eyes still locked across the room where Slick escaped.
“I’m going to the garage,” I mutter, grabbing another bottle of water from the fridge before leaving the room.
Aro follows me out of the clubhouse, and we find Ugly and Boomer sitting on folding chairs and drinking beer.
I’m not surprised that none of the couples from the yoga sessions aren’t in here. Why would they be sitting in the middle of a fucking sausage party when they’re tasked with cleaning the sweat from their lover’s skin?
I feel like a fucking chump as I plop down in one of the chairs.
I’ve been a surly bastard for weeks, and it only gets worse when I’m around these guys. Even if they started teasing me about Sylvie, I’d be okay with that because it opens the door for me to ask for advice, but they keep their lips shut.
I think about giving Aro a hard time about Slick because maybe that will somehow end up with him returning a joke about Sylvie, which also gets me right where I want to be, but it doesn’t feel right.
The last thing I want is any level of strife between any of us. Who fucking knows, maybe something is going on between Aro and Slick. I don’t want to be the asshole getting in the way of that.
My phone chimes with a text, but I’m slow to pull it from my pocket. I’ve been blocking numbers as they come in, wondering how any of these women even got my number. I’m not a texter. I pick women up from the bar. Or at least I used to. I haven’t done that in a very long time. I was never one to reach out and make plans. Spontaneous was the name of the game for me.
Unknown Number: Thank you for helping with my porch.
My heart rate kicks up. It’s been three solid weeks since I walked out of Sylvie’s house, and a week since I turned down the offer of dinner after we rebuilt her front porch.
Me: You’re welcome.
My hands tremble as I send the text, anticipation making my palms sweat as those three dots pop up. She’s reaching out, and that has to mean something, right?
A message doesn’t immediately come through, and I take the opportunity to add her into my sparse contacts list, not feeling an ounce of embarrassment when I follow her name with a heart emoji.
Sylvie: Legend said you paid for the supplies. He told me to ask you what I owe you.
I’ll fucking kill him. Did he throw me under the bus? Did he tell her that I expect repayment?
I start to type out that all I want in return is for her to ride my cock, but that’s the horny side of me, the one that knows exactly what her body feels like sliding down mine. I want to fuck that woman again more than just about anything, but I’m also aware of what she found out about her mom. Legend may not have mentioned the part of the conversation where he told her I paid for the lumber for her deck, but he did tell me what Faith told him about her mom’s suicide.
Knowing it has made it damn near impossible to keep from invading her space and offering the comfort of my arms, but she didn’t call me. I can only guess she isn’t interested in anything I have to offer.
Me: You don’t owe me anything.
Those three little dots pop up and disappear, pop up and disappear, and then…
Sylvie: Okay.
I wait, hoping and praying she texts something else, anything that will give me an open door into any sort of conversation.
She doesn’t and I want to scream.
The woman was mad that I didn’t remember her. She held on to that anger until I fucked it out of her in Telluride. She tried to pretend to be angry after that, but I didn’t miss the way she watched, the way her eyes would glaze over.
I know I helped her when she was sad after she found out about Will Varon. She clung to me as tight as I did her. I know I’m not crazy, imagining that there was something more than sex between us.
Kissing her was my offer, a way to let her know that there were no longer any rules between the two of us.