see the warmth in her face as she eyes me.
My anger fades. What right do I have to be upset about this, anyway? She’s just telling it like it is. Brooklyn and I have different goals, different aspirations. We’re nothing alike—she’s book smart, and I’m street smart. And yet…I can’t deny that I want to know her better. I want to smell her skin again. Taste her mouth. Taste more than that. Hear that desperate gasp again as she’s about to come. “I get what you’re saying,” I tell Aubrey plainly.
Aubrey digs into her pocket and hands me a piece of paper. “Here’s her number.”
I blink. Okay, after the speech she just laid on me, I wasn’t expecting that. “Did Brooklyn ask you to give this to me?”
“She didn’t have to.” She shoots me a wide grin and puts the paper in my hand. “When I talked to her the other day, she spent the entire conversation not mentioning you at all. It was so obvious she wanted to talk about you but wouldn’t let herself do so. She didn’t want to give anything away, but her face said it all.” She shakes her head and laughs. “I love Brooklyn, I really do, but she’s far too uptight to be only twenty-one. I think you could help her with that a little. Get her to loosen up and have some fun. Life’s about more than just school.”
I cram the paper in my jeans pocket. Try to pretend it isn’t burning a hole through the fabric. I give Aubrey a dashing grin to mask my emotions. “Thanks, hon. Now, you’d better get back over to your husband before he pounds my face in for taking up more of your time.”
Moments later, she and Smith exit the bar through the door leading to their upstairs apartment.
I flick the lights off and lock the door behind me, hopping in my car. Mulling over the things Aubrey said about Brooklyn. She thinks I could actually be good for her—at least, in the short-term.
I’m tempted to send Brooklyn a text right now, but it’s almost three in the morning. No doubt she’s asleep.
Still, it is a Saturday night, and she knows I work bar hours.
This indecision isn’t like me. Hell, I usually never have to chase after a girl. They come to me. They know who I am and they want me as-is. Yeah, Brooklyn might be able to handle my wild side, but in the end, she would want more than that. And I just can’t give her more.
I keep the paper in my pocket and drive to my apartment.
Sunday morning, I head to the gym and do my morning workout. I sweat hard and push myself as much as I can. Tell myself with every rep that I should leave her alone. Tell myself that she’s better off without me. That some other guy can help her loosen up, a guy who wants a more serious relationship. A guy who’s more compatible with her.
A guy who actually deserves her.
I fucking hate that guy, whoever he is.
Because I want to be her first, as selfish as that might be. I want to watch her awaken sexually to her full potential. I’m greedy and foolish and as I hop in the shower at the gym and clean up, I already know I’m going to text her.
Still, I make myself wait until I get back home. I straighten up around my apartment, throwing away the trash that’s built up on the counters, do the dishes, pop in a load of laundry, all that shit I’ve been putting off.
Only then do I grab my phone and put her number in and text her.
Bought any more wedding rings lately, darling?
I make myself put my phone on the coffee table and grab a beer. Crack it open and dig into a slice of cold leftover pepperoni pizza. Turn on the TV to watch the baseball game.
My phone buzzes.
I feel my heart give that funny little tug again it does whenever I think about her. Stay fucking cool, I order myself. Reach over and grab my phone to read the incoming text.
Sadly, this wk I haven’t been around anyone else irresponsible enough to lose something important.
I chuckle. Just as sass-mouthed as I remember. Well, if u want adventure, all u have to do is ask.
My phone buzzes again almost immediately. I’m almost scared to discover what u might lose next.
That makes me laugh out loud. I write, Pants come to