Page 37 of The House Guest
“I can’t, Primrose,” he said.
Backtrack.
Backtrack.
“Of course! That was dumb.” I shook my head. “Goodnight.”
“Wait!” he called after me.
I fumbled over my words, continuing to hurry away. “You’re right. It’s late. Goodnight!”
After running down the hall to my room, I closed the door and leaned my back against it, trying to calm myself after the horror of the situation I’d put myself in.
Eventually I forced myself to crawl into bed, pulled the covers over my head, and prayed for sleep to claim my humiliation.
CHAPTER 11
For an entire week, I’d done nothing but go straight to my room after entering the house each day. I’d also been making sure Dorian’s car wasn’t in the garage and would bypass the kitchen altogether to avoid running into him. I’d pop in there to say hello to Benjamin or Patsy briefly, but that was only if I was absolutely sure Dorian wasn’t home. I hated being outside of my bedroom too long on the off-chance he came home unexpectedly.
Since it was unlike me to be so withdrawn, I’d told the staff I was busy working on a new art project, which technically wasn’t a lie. That left me free to stay in my room all night until it was time to leave for class the next morning.
My friend Janelle and I were eating lunch outside on campus this afternoon when I’d finally filled her in on my judgment faux pas with Dorian last week.
“Maybe he has a good reason for not wanting to go there with you,” she suggested.
“That doesn’t take away the humiliation and my fervent wish that I could take it all back.”
She ate a spoonful of yogurt. “How the hell are you managing to avoid him?”
“It’s not hard. He’s almost never home. The only chance of running into him is if I use the theater or the kitchen. So I’ve been careful to avoid both.” I picked at my salad.
“How do you avoid the kitchen, though?”
“I just eat out or starve. Takeout coffee is my friend. I do miss my tea at night.”
“Damn. You can’t live like that forever, Primrose.”
“Watch me.” I exhaled. “I’d move out if I could afford it. Anyway, if he wanted to talk to me, he knows where my room is. He could knock on my door. But he hasn’t. All the more reason I don’t regret avoiding him.” Still so angry at myself, I shook my head. “The one time! The one time in my twenty-three years that I decide to take my shot, and look where it got me.”
She shrugged. “I’m still proud of you for taking a chance. It takes balls to do what you did. And why should women always stand by and wait for men to make the first move?”
“Because they could get shot down and have to hide from the world after.”
“He was the one who encouraged the body shot, though, right? I would’ve totally bet he was down for more after that.”
“Well, clearly he wasn’t. He was justplaying the game.”
“At least you know where things stand now instead of wasting weeks pining over him, thinking something’s going to happen.”
I thought back to Patsy’s confession and advice. She was right.Men like Dorian and his father don’t go for ordinary women.What other reason could he have for turning me down? He’d told me he thought I was attractive, and yet when given the opportunity—nothing.
I looked away, thinking back to better times, before my embarrassing rejection. “The anticipation had been kind of fun. I miss the excitement of wondering whether he and I would run into each other. But you’re right. The letdown would’ve been worse if more time had passed. Apparently, I’d been living in a delusional state.”
She perked up. “How about we go out this Friday? Help you forget about what’s-his-name billionaire?”
“I don’t know.” I sulked.
“It’s a good excuse to get out of the house,” she said, scraping up the last of her yogurt. “Even less of a chance of running into him.”
