Page 25 of Fighting

“I was going for a germs emoji joke, and then I couldn’t do it. Doesn’t feel right to tease about STIs?—”

“Something I am regularly tested for and currently do not have, and I’ve shown you the paperwork. Don’t forget,” I interject before this can linger.

“Even if you did, plenty of folks do and they care for their health and that of their partner.”

I chuckle. “Anyhow, I’m clear. So it must have been another guy you ran out on after you smothered him with that tight little cunt of yours.”

If it wasn’t for the call display on the dashboard, I’d have thought we’d been disconnected. Is she hurt? Is someone there?

Finally, she whispers, “Fuck you, asshole. I’d only ever been with two guys before you and your fancy tequila. My reputation is based on what I do without even a shred of the truth, and yet in comparison to your body count, I’m still considered a dirty little slut.”

My stomach twists at the anger in her voice. “Looks like I struck a nerve. But while we’re on the subject, since when do you judge someone’s body count?”

“Not someone’s. Yours. Only yours,” she grits between her teeth.

“Aw. I like when you’re jealous. I also like when you’re with me, and since I’m here, which level are you on?”

“You can’t get in. It’s staff only.”

“Do you want to head down to the street level? Or do you want to keep chatting from here?” I tease, swallowing back how angry I am.

The anger is because of her admission. I’m pissed that no matter what she has done, it’s what she appears to do that causes folks to talk. The anger comes from knowing that the first time someone centered her pleasure was during our night together.

Well, it’s also a little focused on how she could walk away from that night and still compare me to her ex. I scrub a hand down my face and play with the radio dials until I find a good song.

My heartbeat thumps to the beat of a rock song and my fingers tap in time on the steering wheel while I impatiently watch the pedestrian doorway. Two minutes later, her mass of blond hair appears, flying in the wind.

Nessa’s adorable light pink boucle jacket stands out in angry contrast to the black leather heeled boots and bag. Sort of like how the anger across her face is the polar opposite of the halo of light around her head.

As she approaches, I step out to open her door, flooded with a mix of emotions I can’t follow.

I can only assume the feeling is mutual when Nessa slams into me with a very uncharacteristic hug. I wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tight, relishing the palpable electric current between us. After another second, her tensed muscles relax and something resets between us.

She blinks back emotion as she pulls away.

I cup her cheeks, swiping my thumbs over her silken skin. Nessa is not one for crying, jealousy, or fear. Yet she appears to be combating all of those when I look into her amber eyes.

“Ivy, breathe with me. It’s just a car. You’ll fix it.”

She gives me a terse nod. “I’m fine. I don’t know why I’m overreacting. I must be tired.” She moves my hands from her face and heads toward the passenger door.

“I owe you. Thank you for coming to get me.” She slumps against the seat as I close the door behind her. When I climb into my own seat, she looks relieved enough that I aim for the bleachers.

“Then be my girlfriend.” I flash her my most charismatic smile. It causes her to tense, so I soften my face, hoping to convey my sincerity and concern. “Publicly at least? Until the Reynolds Group leaves town? I’ll feel better. An assumed relationship will give you another layer of protection.”

As she adjusts the seat belt, she huffs out, “Fine, but there will be rules.”

ten

Mateo

The word “rules”causes me to puff out my cheeks before expelling my breath. Rules? Why can’t we just go with the flow? I hate rules.

She pulls a notebook from her tote, then a pen, tapping impatiently.

“What happened to your car?” If I can keep her from making rules, it’ll be so much better.

“It won’t turn on. I don’t know. AAA said they can’t come out today.” She shrugs, fidgeting with her hands.

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