Holy crap, he still hasn’t given me an answer.
“Why do you ask?” he finally says, answering a question with a question, which I hate. Owen does that sort of thing to me all the time.
Plus by doing so, Drew’s going to make me rattle off a list of every gay suspicion I have about him. Not that I have many. I only came to the realization on the long as hell drive to his parents’ house.
“Well, you said you’ve never really had a girlfriend before. Your dad is worried about you and your lack of female company. I’ve never seen you with a girl at the bar, let alone seen you flirt with any, not that I’ve paid any attention,” I made sure to add. I’m being honest. I haven’t paid too much attention to him, but if my memory serves right, he’s not that much of a player.
“Maybe I haven’t found the right girl yet.”
My heart flares with hope, which is so incredibly stupid I wish I could punch myself in the chest. Yeah, I’m a complete idiot to think I have a chance at being the one for Drew.
The hired one? That’s all I’ll ever be.
“Are you um, saving yourself?” I force my voice to sound casual, while inside everything has turned to chaos. I’m twenty. He’s at least twenty-one. Is there really a possibility he’s a virgin? I know they’re out there, but I never figured Drew Callahan for one.
His dark chuckle tells me I’m off base and the relief that sweeps through me is near overwhelming. “I am definitely not a virgin. But it’s…been a while.”
I take a drag off my cigarette. “Why?” Whoops, there I go again. Delving into his personal life when I have no business doing so.
He shrugs, his flannel shirt stretching across his shoulders. Drew has a really fine set of shoulders. “I don’t do relationships. Sex is too—complicated.”
Interesting. I find it far too easy. “Maybe you’re having the wrong kind of sex.”
“Maybe the wrong kind of sex is all you can get.” His strong jaw goes firm and his eyes darken. He’s angry. I know this is all sorts of twisted, but he looks incredibly sexy. His fierce expression alone makes my heart go pitter-patter.
His answer is way too mysterious for me. “Sounds like you’re definitely having the wrong kind of sex.” I try to laugh, flicking the ash of my cigarette over the railing, noticing his undisguised look of disgust.
Drew’s not laughing either. I wonder if I offended him.
The cigarette is because I’m nervous and it sucks that he doesn’t approve, but I can’t help it. I smoked off and on through high school because I thought it was cool and for whatever reason, the summer after I graduated I up and quit cold turkey. For the most part.
But I keep a secret pack on me at all times, like a security blanket, only pulling one out when I’m extremely nervous or agitated and I need to calm my nerves.
Like tonight. That introduction to his parents was intense. Normally I go through a pack of smokes in six months. At the rate I’m going, I’ll be smoking a pack a day by the third day of this so-called vacation.
“If my dad saw you right now, he’d flip,” Drew said, drawing me from my thoughts.
I take another drag of the cigarette before stubbing it out and flicking it out as far as I can. Not that it’ll hit the ocean, but I like the image of it, the sizzle and hint of smoke the cig lets off upon hitting the water. In reality, I’m a common litterbug and I feel like crap, but Drew’s not chastising me. “It’ll be our little secret, right?”
“We’re going to have a ton of secrets between us by the end of the week, huh.” He’s not asking a question, it’s more like a statement and he’s right.
“Yeah, we are.” I smile at him, but he doesn’t return it. Instead, he turns on his heel and leaves the deck, slipping back into the house, the door closing behind him with a quiet click.
Leaving me all alone in the cold dark night with my cold dark thoughts.
* Chapter Five *
Day 2, 2 p.m.
Love is a smoke and is made with the fume of sighs. – William Shakespeare
Fable
Rich people suck. They’re rude, they act entitled to everything and heaven forbid you look like a poor person. I’m wearing jeans and a sweater, nothing fancy, and they all sneer at me like I’m some sort of bum. They flash me dirty looks like I crawled out of a gutter and then they have the nerve to look scared when I approach them. Like I’m going to pull a knife on them or something and demand all their money.