“Why would you care anyway? You’re hotter than him.”
“Which proves my point.”
“Which is?”
“Men are entertainment to you.”
I flick my eyes to him.
I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
“Don’t you have some work to do?”
“I’m done.”
“You weren’t done when he got on your nerves.”
A smile stretches across his lips.
“I finished earlier. I was working on something else.”
“While keeping an eye on him.”
He sets the bottle on the kitchen counter and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Yeah, something like that,” he says, grinning.
I shift my focus to the screen, silence falling around us.
A faint rustle rolls in my ears as he pivots and looks out the window.
“Are you gonna be here on Saturday?” I ask.
“What’s Saturday?”
I flick my gaze up. My eyes linger on him for a few more moments. He shifts his focus back to me, catching me staring blankly at him.
“What’s Saturday?” he asks again.
“It’s my birthday party.”
It’s been years since I’ve had a birthday party–– since I left my parents’ home to be exact––and I decided to throw one now.
Quirking his lips, he studies me for a moment, our eyes finally connecting.
I have no idea what he reads in my gaze––if anything, but I can’t figure out a thing from his face.
“I don’t know. Probably not. I won’t be back until Sunday,” he finally says, gauging my reaction.
Guarded, I push my emotions back, trying to act cool.
“Okay?” he asks, not giving me much choice.
“Okay...” I say, my voice trailing off.
With those words, I feel a door closing between us.
I push off the couch and walk into my office while he saunters out of the house and goes back to the backyard.