“And you never get lonely? What about all the good stuff like first dates, first kisses, the excitement over a new relationship when the sexual tension gets a chance to build?”
Decker shrugged. “I guess I also miss out on all the shit, like fighting, cheating, and jealousy. From what I hear, the sex eventually turns into monotony, and doom and gloom prevails. No fucking thank you. I’m more than happy to stick my dick in a beautiful, willing woman with no attachments or messy relationship shit to deal with. The bonus is I get paid to do it.”
I tried not to wince at his visual he had just created in my throbbing head. “Sex shouldn’t be treated with such insignificance, Decker. I mean, I understand that sex is enjoyable and some people partake in it for the simple pleasure of sharing their bodies, but fuck, it should also be treated with a little damn respect. You can’t go through life without experiencing the beauty of an emotional attachment to a member of the opposite sex; it will turn you into an emotionally stunted eunuch.”
Decker seemed to bristle at my words. “You don’t think I respect the women I screw?”
“Hardly, you said it yourself, you just stick your dick in a willing woman with the bonus of getting paid for it.”
He stood from the table too quick, his chair falling back with force. His fists were clenched, and the anger he was barely containing took me by surprise. “You don’t know anything about what I do or who I do it with, Andi. You of all people should know what it feels like to have people make assumptions about them.”
Well, that just pissed me off. I matched his stance, pushing myself up, wishing my chair would have flown back to the ground with the same impressive velocity as Decker’s. It didn’t, the slight grating on the hardwood floor was completely lame.
“My teenage awkwardness has nothing to do with your offhand attitude towards sex. At least the few people who did make an attempt to get to know the teenage me earned a place in my heart. I made friends, male ones that I didn’t need to have casual detached sex with.”
“Why the fuck would I have wanted to spend my time around an emotionally stunted girl?” Decker growled, enunciating the words “emotionally stunted” so it was clear to me that he was throwing the words I had used at him right back in my face.
“God forbid you stop screwing every pretty thing with a heartbeat long enough to wonder why the emotionally stunted little girl was emotionally fucking stunted.”
Silence descended upon us like a thick, uncomfortable sludge. Decker took a long breath in and blew it out with exasperation.
“We might have known each other a long time, Andi, but neither of us really knows anything about the other.”
“Clearly,” I snapped.
Decker retrieved his shirt and shoes without saying a word and left. I didn’t try and stop him, caught somewhere between wanting his comfort him and wanting to kick his ass. As soon as the downstairs door to the apartment clicked shut, I stomped over to the stereo and turned off the ear splitting rock that was infecting my happy place. I pressed play on the CD that was already sitting inside, and Keith Urban’s “Raining on a Sunday” filled the room, the sorrowful melody turning my anger to sorrow.
A betraying tear slipped down my cheek, and I brushed it away with frustration. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was angry over, and I sure as hell had no idea why I was crying. All I knew for sure was my out of control feelings were over Decker. No matter how many times I told myself Decker was just a pretty ornament to be looked at and not touched, seeing him here in New York had tugged at that place that dwelled inside all women. That place where dreams of knights in shining armor, steadfast devotion, and happily ever afters dwelled. That place inside all women that yearned for tender touches and a coveted embrace. That place in all women called a heart, the place where dreams and impossibilities lived in a locked up box. I had allowed myself too many dreams and fantasies of Decker Steele, and now those dreams and fantasies were crushed under the revelation that he was nothing more than an insensitive man whore who went through life one woman at a time. I sniffled angrily, probably more than one woman at a time. I was being childish and unreasonable. Decker had never offered me anything more than friendship. I was just a silly girl caught up in silly dreams. He had been a good friend to me since I had arrived in New York, and I had gone and thrown that friendship back in his face with my prudish outrage. I didn’t want to lose Decker’s friendship because, quite simply, the thought of not being friends with him hurt even more.
Chapter 9