“I was going to take you to lunch.”
“Were you going to walk me back afterward or put me in a car by myself?”
“Oh, come on!” He tips his head back and rolls his eyes at the ceiling. “Are you kidding me? I’d had, like, four beers!”
It was six, actually. “Sure. I get it.”
“You get it, but you’re going to treat me like crap anyway?”
“I went out for lunch, Steven. How is that about you?”
“And the way you’re acting now isn’t about me?”
“How do you expect me to feel? I did . . . that, and you made me feel like a call girl afterward!”
“You said you needed to go! How is that my fault?”
“I don’t just sleep with anyone, you know.” I cover my face as if I’m crying. I can go through the motions, but I’m not always good at making my eyes water. “I’m a nice girl. I really am. And when we do those things . . . I just . . . Do you even like me?”
“Hey, come on. Don’t cry. Of course I like you. I took you to my dad’s church! You’re being really silly about this. Maybe it’s PMS.”
“It’s not PMS! I feel like . . . I feel like I’m being dirty.”
“Come on. You’ve done that with other boyfriends.”
“Yes, but . . . I don’t even know if you’re really my boyfriend.”
“Of course I’m your boyfriend.”
“You didn’t ask me to spend the night.”
“I’m sorry. I should have.”
I sniff and let out a shuddery breath. “Really?”
“Really. I like you a lot, Jane. I don’t want to make you feel that way.”
Funny, because I can see he has an erection right now. My shame is a huge turn-on for old Steven. What a piece of work.
“You don’t think I’m a slut?” I whisper.
Steven chuckles. “Would I take you to my dad’s party if I thought you were a slut?”
I peek up between my fingers. “Are we going?”
“Yeah. It’s tomorrow night. Are you free?” He asks that like he’s teasing me. Like it’s a joke that I might have something else to do.
I nod. “Yes.”
“Good. And listen . . .” He glances over his shoulder to be sure no one else is in the hallway before he leans close. “Last night was so damn good, baby.”
“Shh!”
“I hope it’s not dirty if I’m your boyfriend, because . . .”
“It is dirty!” But I’m giggling a little now. “Stop it. You said you wanted a nice Christian girl, and I’m trying to live right.”
“As long as you’re trying, that’s what counts.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He smiles down at me. “I talked you into it, so you don’t have to feel bad.”
“It’s still a sin.”
“It is, but you made your man happy, and that’s part of living right, isn’t it?”
“I guess.”
He winks. “Want me to ask my dad about it?”
I squeal and shove him away. “You’re awful.”
“Maybe, but I got you to smile again. Feel better?”
“I do.”
“So do you have time to see your new boyfriend tonight, sweetheart?”
He’s teasing again, but I’ll be busy having sex with another man tonight, so too bad. “I can’t. I booked a haircut to make myself feel better.”
Steven throws back his head and laughs. “Girls,” he says with exasperation.
He won’t notice that I didn’t get a trim. He won’t notice Luke’s smell on me either. If I seem happier tomorrow, he’ll assume it’s because he’s informed me we’re officially going steady.
Girls. So easy to please.
CHAPTER 26
I haven’t returned my rental car yet and it feels good to drive myself around for a change. I’m in control, even in the wet, heavy snow that starts falling before I get to Luke’s condo. I spent my youth driving in Oklahoma ice storms and then Minnesota winters. Fresh snow is no problem for me.
Luke greets me with a kiss, and we order pizza and pile covers over our bodies on the couch as promised. He downloads a new action blockbuster I haven’t seen, and I snuggle close to him. I don’t get as close as another girl would, but my knee rests comfortably against his and his arm brushes mine every time he moves.
It feels nice and almost normal. But the truth is that I can’t stop wondering what it should feel like and whether I’m acting the way a normal person would. We finish the pizza and have a couple of beers, but I can’t lose myself in the movie. I can’t be normal. I know there’s only one way for me to stop pretending.
As a train derails in the movie and crashes into a high-rise, I slide my hand up Luke’s thigh. He lets me tease him for a long while before he finally gives in with a deep groan and drags me onto his lap. Buildings fall on screen as we disappear beneath the covers. I finally stop thinking. Mostly.
The movie eventually goes silent. Luke strokes the sweat-damp hair from my face. He kisses my nose. “You should stay the night,” he murmurs. “It’s still snowing.”
“I can’t.”
“Because you’re seeing someone else?”
Instead of answering, I press my head to his chest and listen to the thump thump of his heart. The human body is such a strange puzzle of mechanical parts. So delicate and close to giving out at any moment. The tiniest weak link will bring everything tumbling down, yet we all walk around like we’re unbreakable. It’s odd.
“I just want to know if I have a chance,” he says, the words rumbling through my cheek.
“I’m pretty confident I’m what’s called a sure thing.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
I cross my arms over his chest and raise my head to look at him. “Actually, I don’t know. What do you mean?”
“I want to know if there’s a chance for something serious.”
“I’m only here temporarily.”
“So you’re definitely going back to Malaysia afterward?”
“Yes.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You just adopted a cat. Can you take her overseas?”
“Probably.”
“If you haven’t even checked into it, I wonder if you’re not so certain about your plans.”
Is he right? I don’t think so.
“Listen, I’m not saying let’s be exclusive and start plotting out a future together. We’ve seen each other a few times now. I just want to know if you’re about to get engaged to this other guy and start blocking my texts.”
I actually snort at the idea that I would choose Steven and reject Luke. He smiles slowly at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“I’m not about to get engaged and start blocking your texts.”
“Okay, good. But it’s still . . . complicated?”
He’s not being too pushy, and I like that. He’s not trying to claim me as his personal property after one week of sex. I can’t tell him the truth, but I can offer him a reasonable lie.
“I’m seeing my boss. The guy who hired me for this project.”
“Is it serious?”
“No. It’s not serious. But breaking it off would cause tension I don’t need. And you and I . . . we just met, Luke.”
“Well, technically we are old friends.”
He’s teasing. His eyes are still smiling. His arms hold me loosely, as if he knows I may get up and leave at any moment, and he’s fine with that.
“I’m not really a relationship type of girl,” I tell him.
“How so?”
“I’m just not good at that stuff.” I don’t know how to say more than that, so I lay my head back on his chest.
“Because of your family?”
Well, yes. I suppose. The latest research on sociopathy hands some blame to genes and some to environment. My parents’ behavior suggests pathological levels of selfishness and carelessness on both their parts. They combined their shitty genes and then ladled on hefty doses of neglect and emotional abuse, and here I am.
“My family is pretty special,” I finally answer.
“Any more trouble from them?” he asks.
“Not tonight.”
“Good.” He kisses the top of my head and we lie comfortably together for a few minutes before I get restless and slide back to my side of the couch.
“You can stay,” he says again.
I don’t like staying. I prefer to leave as soon as the sex is done, yet I’m strangely lethargic and comfortable and I don’t want to get dressed. But we just finished having sex and it’s not time for bed. “What would we do?”
“Anything. Watch another movie? Eat ice cream? Talk?”
I look around and spy a big bookshelf. “Could we just read?”