I nodded, unable to think straight. There was nothing I wanted more than to get back home, as far away from Adrian as possible.
It was time to put myself first.
CHAPTER 9
THOMAS
What am I?
“You won’t have time for me tonight?” Chrissy’s voice sounded from the hands-free system in my car.
Truth be told I had no idea what I was doing with that girl. We weren’t dating, we weren’t fucking, we were just… weird. We spent the evenings together in restaurants or clubs, drinking and talking. She never passed on a chance to stick her tongue down my throat. Every time she looked at my lips, someone tipped a bucket of ice over my head. It felt as if I were cheating on Nadia. It was ridiculous, but I couldn’t shake it.
Still, I let Chrissy devour my lips whenever she wanted, even though it did nothing for me. Despite her curvy body, blond hair and light blue eyes, my body remained unaffected.
I began to worry that maybe Nadia didn’t just break my heart. Maybe she broke my dick, too.
The best thing about Chrissy? She was easy going. She was Jane’s friend from work, and apparently, she was into me for a while. Jane, the biggest gossip in London, filled Chrissy in about Nadia, which might have been why she didn’t push for more than the scraps I offered.
She went with the flow and made herself available whenever I called with a dinner invitation. So much so, that after almost two weeks, she expected us to meet every night—not an issue any other day, but today was Thursday.
“No, it’s poker night. I’ll see you tomorrow. What time do you finish work?” I turned onto the woodland road leading to the cottage.
“I don’t know,” she clipped.
The annoyance in her voice took me aback.
“But feel free to call me if you find time for lunch in your busy day.”
I gripped the steering wheel tighter. She wasn’t my girlfriend, and she was nowhere near the status. She was just a girl I spent the evenings with for the lack of better things to do, yet she considered it okay to make me feel guilty about seeing my friends.
Good, fucking, luck, sweetheart.
Thursday nights were sacred. No one had the right to mess with that. Fuck, not even the one girl I would be happy to ditch poker night for complained about me taking the evening to myself. Chrissy’s shitty attitude lost her some serious brownie points.
“Fine, good night.” I cut the call not waiting for a reply.
Whatever. It wasn’t like I cared if she was around. Why I bothered with her was beyond me, anyway. There was no chemistry between us. She was supposed to occupy my mind, and she didn’t do a decent job of it half the time.
Nick, Ethan and Scorpio waited in the kitchen, chips and cards at the ready even though it was only ten to seven. Ethan wore a smug smile, his hands knotted at the back of his head, legs sprawled across my chair. He moved them, sensing an impeding eviction, when I handed Nick a bottle of vodka.
I plopped down and massaged my temples to rid the tension.
“What’s wrong?” Scorpio asked.
Over the course of our friendship he developed a sixth sense—a sort of radar, if you will, that must have blared in his head whenever I wasn’t in the best of moods.
“Nothing important. Chrissy’s being a fucking diva.”
Ethan chuckled, sipping on his drink. “Aren’t they all? Was she annoyed that you’d rather play poker with us than see her?” He rolled his eyes. “Sounds familiar. Sarah’s the same.”
“Mel’s not like that.” Nick handed me a glass of vodka on the rocks. “And I’m sure you’ll agree that Nadia isn’t either.”
My jaw tightened; hands balled into fists. I pushed away the unease her name summoned. If anyone asked, I was over her. She had no hold of me whatsoever.
The truth? I was full of shit, and it was clear to everyone.
“Yeah, that’s theonething I can’t fault her with,” I admitted, taking a large gulp from the glass.