This is all about the ring.
I smooth my hand down my purple tube dress that just so happens to match my glasses. It also accentuates my curves—what little curves I have. I spent an hour curling my hair, and then I brushed out the curls because that was what the girl on the YouTube tutorial told me to do, and she was right. It’s made my hair all wavy and pretty. And my makeup, well, I made sure to highlight my eyes with mascara and then put on a subtle lipstick that wouldn’t clash with my dress, more accentuate it.
I’m pretty sure Brian is not going to recognize me. Maybe this is a good thing, spice things up before we get married and show him exactly what he’s hitching himself to.
Clutch in hand, I open my front door and nearly choke on my own saliva as Breaker comes into view.
This is . . . this is not the Breaker I know, who wears old junky Jack Skellington T-shirts and backward hats because he’s too lazy to worry about his hair.
This is a different Breaker.
Sophisticated.
Date Breaker.
Wearing a pinstripe gray suit and deep black button-up with the top few buttons undone, he looks so freaking good, like he belongs in a magazine. His pants are tight around his thighs but loosen up around his calves and ankles where the fabric stops. He’s wearing loafers with no socks, and his hair is styled to the side in a messy way, giving him a sultry look that I wasn’t expecting. And that tan chest, peeking out through the buttons of his shirt, so easily reveals the slightest hint of corded muscle that identifies him as a man who spends a great deal of time in the gym.
His suit fits him like a glove, not an inch to spare of fabric.
Handsome.
Sexy.
Arousing.
All the adjectives that come to mind.
“Wow, Lia,” he says, taking me in and pulling on the back of his neck. “Shit, you look really good.”
I’m snapped back into reality as I glance down at my dress and black high heels and then back up at him. “Oh, thank you. I, uh, I thought I would match the fanciness of my ring.” I hold it out to show him as if he hasn’t seen it before. “See? Fancy. And I’m fancy. We’re all fancy.”
His brow creases. “You okay?”
“Yes, great. Thank you. Just telling you I’m fancy.”
He chuckles. “All right, well, glad we established that.” He holds his arm out for me. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah, of course. So ready. Never been more ready. Just the most ready, so let’s get this show on the road.”
“You’re being weird,” he says as I lock up and then walk arm in arm with him toward the elevator.
Maybe because you look really good.
And smell nice.
And have a sense of suave circling you that I wasn’t prepared to see.
“No, I’m not. Can’t a friend just tell another friend how fancy they feel? Is that a crime?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but I can google it if you want me to.”
I take a deep breath and step onto the elevator with him. His cologne’s so heavy that it makes me feel dizzy in an odd, perplexing way.
I’ve never seen him like this because he’s always been secretive about who he takes out, how he dates, and everything about his sexual life. Whenever I’ve asked before, he’s been blasé about it, not diving too deep, never showing emotion or interest in the topic. But seeing him like this, it’s all so different.
“Why have you always been secretive?” I nearly shout.
“Err, what?” he asks, letting go of my arm and facing me as we descend to the main lobby of our apartment complex.
“With dating, you’ve never talked about it. You’ve never told me anything about the women you see. Why is that?”
“Where is this coming from?” he asks as the elevator doors part. Breaker’s car is waiting out front, the valet with key in hand.
I motion to his suit. “This is . . . this is not the Breaker I’m used to. I don’t see you dress like this, all suave and, you know . . . handsome.” I gulp.
And that stupid smirk of his appears as he says, “Yeah, well, I never see you like this either.” He motions to me and says, “All dressed up and . . . beautiful. Normally, I hang out with the troll lady who lives next door and has a penchant for eating green olives straight from the jar.”
My eyes widen, and I push him to the side, causing him to laugh. “I’m not a troll lady.” Now the part about the olives, that’s true.
“Your matted hair the other day told me otherwise.” He tips the valet and then opens the door for me, but when I get in, he doesn’t shut the door right away. He rests his hands on the roof and says, “I don’t talk about it much because there isn’t much to talk about. And I’m not the type of guy who runs around to his friends, telling them about the pussy I scored the night before. But if you so desire, I can start doing that.”
“Do you score a lot?”
“More than you’re probably aware, but since you’re curious, I’ve gone through a bit of a drought as of recently. Just haven’t had time. I think the last woman I was with, if you must know, is your friend Charise, the one you hooked me up with for Huxley’s wedding.”
“Wait, seriously?” I ask. “You hooked up with Charise?”
“A few times.” He winks and then shuts the door on me, leaving me in a state of bewilderment.
When he climbs into his side of the car, I ask, “A few times? Like . . . more than once?”
“That’s usually what a few times means.” He puts the car in drive and pulls away from the apartment building.
“But she never said anything to me. You never said anything to me. How am I supposed to know you’re hooking up with my friend? Did anything come of it?”
“Triplets, actually. Not humans, puppies. She has custody, but I have visitation rights.”
“I’m being serious, Breaker.” I push at his shoulder, causing him to laugh.
“Nah, it was just sex. Neither of us was looking for anything serious, plus there was no connection other than a carnal one.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“Ew, don’t say carnal.” I fold my arms and sink into my seat while Breaker drives us toward downtown, where Brian made a reservation. “So you’re just out there dating, having a good time, and not telling me about it?”
“Why would I tell you? Just so you can push me and say ew?” he asks in a teasing tone.
“Well, yeah.”
He chuckles. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”
“So tonight, are you going to be all . . . touchy-feely and Date Breaker?”
“If you’re staring me down the whole time, then no. Not sure I can put on the moves when your judgmental glare is directed my way.”
“Judgmental? Nothing about me is judgmental.”
“Ha!” He guffaws. “Lia, you were judging Birdy earlier today when you saw that she likes romantic comedies.”