“I know, but I’m the one here trying to help you sell this whole thing and . . .” My words trail off. He owes me no explanation, no anything, and yet I’m still hurt that I didn’t know this. Couldn’t he have told me after Kostas’ visit what was going on? “Never mind.”
“Does it really matter why I started the company?” Another glance my way. Another aloof statement I shouldn’t care about but do.
“No . . . but I mean . . . if it doesn’t matter why you started it, then why is it a secret?” He doesn’t respond and I know the why. “Does Robert know?”
“No and he won’t know.”
I stare at him, the authority in his posture, and see the person I met the first day. Gone is the playful, sweet guy from earlier. Present is the man I met in error who ordered me to walk his dog.
The juxtaposition messes with my head. And heart.
“That’s why you took Kostas out that night. He was saying things that now make sense but—”
“I wanted him away from everyone because as much as I love him like a brother, he’s a spoiled rich kid who can’t stand the idea of losing.” He smacks a hand on the glass top when he loses his ball and puts another token in without looking my way. “That and he wanted you.”
“Oh.” There must be something about the simple sound I make because for the first time since we started this conversation, Zane stops and looks at me.
“Does my reason for starting the company honestly matter that much to you? It only matters that it’s up and running, that it’s providing people jobs, and that it succeeds in its purpose.”
“Its purpose which is to help people find love.”
“Exactly.” He nods and then as if the conversation is over, pulls back the plunger and begins playing again.
I put my hands on my own pinball machine and go through the motions like I’m going to play but then stop. “So wait, you sell love, but you don’t believe in it? Why in the world would you choose this as your business to challenge your friends’ with?”
Zane doesn’t respond. He just grimaces and jerks his body this way and that as if his movements are going to influence where the ball rolls. When the ball finally slips through his flippers and the turn ends, he hangs his head back and emits a big sigh of frustration that I’m not letting this go.
“Because it’s different than what they’re investing in.”
And the award for vague answers goes to Zane Phillips.
“What are they investing in?”
“Stocks. Futures. Medical.”
“And you opted for SoulM8.”
He slides a sideways glance my way, telling me he is more than fed up with this conversation.
“Yes, I chose SoulM8.”
“But why?”
“Because money comes and goes, Harlow. Stocks fall. They rise. They fall in and out of favor . . . as do most products. At the end of the day though, it’s love that people come back to time and again.” He looks back down at the machine and launches another ball in the playfield. “It’s the only thing I can think of that hurts people over and over, that will bring them to their knees, and yet just like your mom does, it’s something they’ll still go back to, believe in, and take a chance on.”
“Everyone that is, except for you.”
Zane doesn’t respond. He keeps his focus on the machine and his battle to come out on top.
I hate that his lack of an answer bugs me.
I despise that it gives me a little ounce of hope that maybe what I’m suddenly and unwantedly feeling for him, he might also feel for me in turn.
I hate that it proves his theory one hundred percent right.
Later that night, I can’t sleep. I allowed myself to get lost in the physicality of Zane when we got back to the bus. In the sensations he evoked within me. In the feelings for him I tried to suppress.
Sure he was as attentive to my needs as usual. Always the right amount of raw demand versus sensual finesse, always the right groans of praise and moans of needs.
But I hear none of the words I tell myself I don’t need, but still want anyway.
This is the problem with no-strings-attached sex. When you’re doing it with someone, you do the deed and then leave. You don’t get to know what they’re like without coffee in the morning or that they actually set a timer to brush their teeth for exactly one minute at night before they go to bed. You don’t get to share those knowing glances across a crowded room that speaks a hundred words in a matter of seconds. You don’t get to know them outside of the bedroom—that they love arcades and hot air balloons and are afraid of heights.
You don’t get to know they really do have a romantic side despite constantly telling you that they’re a hard ass who isn’t interested in love.
From where I sit on the couch, the lights from headlights dance across the ceiling. I watch them and make a promise to myself to just try and enjoy the next two weeks.
That’s what I’m here for—work, to gain experience, to make connections, to gain visibility—doing whatever Zane and I are doing here was just an added bonus.
Just live in the now, Low. Enjoy everything about it.
And then once you get home, once you step away, you’ll see that these feelings are only because of your close proximity together.
That’s all.