“I need a beer. Nick?” I asked.
“No, Jules. I’m fine.”
My gaze moved to Vance. He was looking up at me and I could read nothing in his eyes.
“Another pop?” I asked.
He shook his head but kept watching me. I looked at the floor and started from the room.
I had to pass Vance’s chair to get to the kitchen. As I did, I slowed and as if it had a mind of its own, my hand came out and I ran the backs of my fingers along Vance’s jaw.
Do not ask me why I did this. I couldn’t tell you. When I was done, I didn’t look at him, I didn’t stop, I just kept on walking to the kitchen and I didn’t look back.
And when I got into the kitchen I filed my touch in my memory filing cabinet and locked the door.
* * * * *
After Monday Night Football was over, we said goodnight to Nick. Vance, Boo and I walked through the back room and over to my side. I opened the backdoor, Boo shot in, I turned and stood in the door showing Vance he was not invited inside. There was a step up from the back room to my kitchen so I was looking down at Vance and he was looking up at me.
“Well, nice date, I had a good time. Thanks,” I said, even though I’d screwed up the date totally, so much it really wasn’t even a date. However, my intention was to make my message clear. No entry.
Vance looked at me a beat. Then his shit-eating grin spread on his face, he put a hand to my belly, pushing me back as he stepped up and walked in, clearing the door. He shut the door behind him, took his hand from my stomach and turned to my alarm panel. Then he hit a four digit code and I heard the sequence of buzzes that meant my door and window sensors were armed.
I had the fleeting feeling of anger that he shoved inside but this was swept away by surprised admiration when I watched him set my alarm.
“How do you know my code?” I asked when he turned back to me.
He just kept grinning at me and then he started walking toward me.
My admiration cleared.
Um… not good.
I started backing up.
“Erm… Crowe, the date’s over,” I told him.
He shook his head and kept advancing.
I kept retreating. “Really, it’s late, I’m tired.” I wasn’t, I was going out that night and I needed him to get gone.
“You have two choices,” Vance said.
I stopped in the doorway to the hall and put my hands on my hips. “And those would be?” I asked.
“We can talk or we can f**k.”
My eyes rounded. Then they narrowed.
I didn’t answer.
“Though,” he went on, “I should tell you even if you pick talking, after we’re done, we’re still gonna f**k.”
I frowned at him and leaned in. “You are too much,” I snapped.
He ignored my threatening posture. “You don’t chose, I will and I’ll pick f**king. We can talk after.”
I was right, he was too much. “I’m not going to sleep with you,” I told him.