Chapter 12
"You're taking off?" A bottle of beer dangles from his hand as he saunters back into what I've now coined as the room of broken dreams. Orgasmic dreams, that is.
Considering how focused he was when he was taking my picture, there's no use bringing up the almost f*cking session that never happened. That large, veiny, thick ship has sailed right past my vagina. "I'm meeting a friend." Why bother offering more? He obviously got me all worked into a horny frenzy so he could take my picture. A*shole.
"A boyfriend?" He cocks a brow as he settles on the edge of the bed.
Did he seriously just ask me if I have a boyfriend? That might have been a more appropriate question before his face was buried tongue deep between my thighs. "Boyfriend?" I repeat back.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" He brings the bottle to his mouth and I watch him take a large gulp of the beer.
"No boyfriend." I chuckle half-heartedly.
"You're pissed that I didn't f*ck you, aren't you?" The amusement lacing the question grates on my nerves.
He's an egomaniac. He wants to hear me tell him that my body is empty now that it will never have the pleasure of officially meeting the Noah Foster's cock. "Not at all." That actually sounded semi-sincere. I just need to keep up this veil of obscurity until I'm at the club with some random guy's hand up my skirt.
"You're lying."
Sweet Jesus, seriously? Are you actually allowed to be this in awe of yourself because you've sold a few dozen photographs worth hundreds of thousands of dollars?
"I'm not lying," I answer. To be precise, I'm not actually lying about being pissed that we didn't have sex. I am lying about the fact that I'm lying. I'm enraged that he had me wanting him so much and he could just drop it all in favor of a picture. I'm also humiliated by it.
"Where are you and your non-boyfriend going?" he asks, doing very little to hide the obvious enjoyment in his voice.
I'll use one of his signature moves and ignore the line of questioning. "How many more sessions do you think we'll need to have?"
"Why?" He's delving into my playbook now with the question in answer to a question. He's more blonde than he looks considering he's a gorgeous brunette.
"I need to focus on some school stuff." I scan my phone and look for any messages from my friend, Kayla. We're supposed to meet in less than twenty minutes downtown and I want to make sure that she's not bailing on me at the last minute too.
"What kind of school stuff?" He edges forward as if he's trying to get a glimpse of my smartphone screen.
"Just stuff." I toss my phone back into my bag. "If you could give me a rough schedule of the days and times you need me that would be great."
"I guess I could do that." He scratches his head right behind his ear before pulling his hand across his forehead. "I'll text it to you. Tomorrow, okay?"
"That's perfect."
"You're actually going to leave? You don't want to finish what we started?" His hand lazily runs over the tip of his semi-erect penis. How is it that I've never seen him with a limp dick?
I pull my gaze back to his face and think for a moment before I speak. "If it was meant to happen, it would have."
"So that's it?" There actual surprise in his voice. I'm not sure if he's trying to temper that or not, but it's obvious that he wasn't expecting me to pack up and walk out.
"That's it." I turn to leave.
"Alexa." I sense movement behind me before I feel his hand grip tightly to my elbow. "I want to f*ck you."
My body reacts to the words, even if I don't want it to. This is too reminiscent of Paris. The push and pull is in my past. I need to keep it there even if it means passing on amazing sex with Noah. "I have plans, Noah." I pull my arm free. "I'm meeting an old friend. I don't have time to stick around."
He doesn't respond. It's not that I expected him to. Something deep within me has always known that no isn't a word he hears often.
***
"Wait, wait, wait." Kayla, one of my sorority sisters, teeters on the edge of a bar stool, with some ridiculously expensive drink perched in her hand. "You're telling me you were tied to a guy's bed and he was about to f*ck you, but then changed his mind?"
Why does it sound so much worse coming from her? I guess if I had broken my non-disclosure agreement and confessed that the man in question decided to take my picture instead of f*cking me that it would sound a little less pitiful. Would it? It sounds super humiliating regardless of how I spin the details.
"That's it in a nut shell." I tip my glass to her before taking a large gulp. Despite my desire to wash away the bitter taste of rejection with a strong drink, I've opted for a soda water. I'm done with ignoring what is really important in my life. Tomorrow morning, bright and early, I'm going to hit the pavement and the bus stop so I can find a job that doesn't involve taking my clothes off for tattooed jerks.
"You haven't talked much about Paris. I'm here if you need a shoulder."
"Thanks." I smile back at her. After my completely disappointing evening with Noah earlier, I needed this more than I realized. Letting go and having some fun is the perfect prescription for what ails me.
"What happened?" She asks as she leans forward to take a sip from the glass. "I thought you'd stay there and marry him."
"You didn't really think that," I tease. "You knew I couldn't stay away from you forever."
"Ah, Lex." She swats her hand across my knee. "You're a princess."
A princess? Sure. I'm a f*cking princess who has now made two dumb ass, consecutive choices in men. "What about you?" A change of subject won't hurt anyone, other than me when Kayla starts rambling off about all the fun she's had while I've been gone.
"No." Her hand darts up so quickly she almost taps me across the nose. "Don't try that."
"Try what?" I lean back, determined to get out of her line of fire.
"You were broken up on the phone when you called me from there." She taps her hand on my knee. "I'm here to talk. Spill it."
I want to. I haven't talked to anyone, including Sadie, about what happened in Paris. Given the fact that Sadie's husband was engaged to someone else when they met, it wasn't fair to dredge all that up by throwing my relationship woes in her direction. At least, in her case, Hunter didn't love the woman he almost married before her. In my case, it was an entirely different story.
"He was involved with another woman." I've practiced saying those words so many times that now that I've actually uttered them aloud; they sound distant, misplaced and much less intense than they feel.
"What?" Kayla's shriek pulls me back to the reality of the statement. I'd confided to her in texts and phone calls that I was in love with the man in Paris. She knows that. Trying to temper it now isn't going to help me get over it. "How did you find out?"
"I saw them." I bite my lip to quash the memory of that morning. I'd just crawled out of my bed and was searching for him when I ran down to the corner café to fetch a latte. That's when I saw them together. His arm lovingly wrapped around her waist, her hand cradling his chin as she kissed him.
"Did you confront them?" She leans forward as if that's going to pull all the sordid details from deep within me.
I shake my head slightly. "No." I want to expand. I want to tell her that I couldn't do it. I want to tell her why but I can't. I won't. He set me up. He knew I went to that café every single morning. He knew that I'd show up there and that's why he brought her there, so I'd see them together and so he could see the look of utter disillusionment on my face. It took me weeks to realize that he did it because it fed something inside of him.
"So you haven't talked to Beck since?"
I sit up straighter, consciously aware of how his nickname impacts me. "We've talked but it's over."
"I'm sorry, Lex." She jumps off the stool to pull me into a warm embrace. "I'm really sorry."