Page 44 of The House Guest
“I went out,” I said.
“Were you out with that Jesus-looking guy I saw you with at the art show?”
My eyes widened. “What?”
“I’m so sorry about tonight, Primrose.” He shook his head. “If I’d had your number, I would’ve called. Why the fuck don’t I have your phone number?”
“Wait.” I blinked. “You came to the art show?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I had meetings all day in L.A. Traffic was absolute hell getting back from the city to Orion Coast. I even left early, but there must’ve been like three accidents. I got to your event just as everything was ending. When I walked in, you were deep in conversation with some man, and I felt awkward interrupting you, especially when they were closing down the event. I’d already missed it. So I opted to leave and explain the situation to you later, rather than interrupt your conversation. Exceptlaterwas much later than I thought it would be.”
I expelled a breath. “I came home tonight determined to not let you see how upset I was that you weren’t there. I was never gonna mention it to you. I feel like a fool for assuming you didn’t care enough to come.” I sighed. “But you absolutely should’ve interrupted my conversation.”
“It didn’t feel right for some reason. In retrospect, though, I agree. I should’ve let you know I was there. I’ve been anxious all night that you thought I’d forgotten or chose not to show.” He hesitated. “But I got a vibe that something might’ve been going on with you and that guy. I didn’t want you to have to explain me to him or have him make assumptions.” He paused. “Who is he?”
“Brandon Wright. He’s a local artist.”
“WouldI have been interrupting something?”
“He did ask to go out tomorrow night.”
Dorian swallowed hard. “I was right, then.”
“You still could’ve interrupted.”
His face reddened. Or maybe it was my imagination. Maybe I wanted tobelieveDorian was jealous, that it served him right after rejecting me. It also could’ve been in my head. In any case, the fact that I cared so much about what he thought was unfortunate.
I tried to downplay it. “It’s not really a date. I’d planned to go to Juno Bar with Janelle anyway. When he asked me if I wanted to hang out, I told him I’d be there if he wanted to stop by.”
“Seems like a date to me,” Dorian insisted, wearing an unreadable expression. “You like him?”
I like you.I shrugged. “I don’t know much about him, other than he’s a talented artist.”
“He’d be a good fit for you, then, right?”
“Not necessarily. I’ve never dated another artist. They tend to be moody and unpredictable.”
His eyes stayed on mine for a moment. “Anyway… Big lesson learned tonight. I should have your phone number. I hadn’t realized I didn’t until I couldn’t reach you.”
I handed my phone to him. “Enter your number. I’ll send you a text so you can program me in.”
As he took the phone, the brush of his hand sent a flash of desire through me. I watched as he entered his information. When he gave it back to me, I texted him the middle finger.
He looked down at his phone. “Lovely. Thank you. Is that because you still somehow think I stood you up?”
“It’s for being dumb and not coming to say hello just because you saw me talking to someone.” I should’ve stopped there, but instead I added, “Do you think I’m hung up on you or something because of my stupid mistake of a proposition? Is that why you thought your presence would trip me up in front of Brandon?”
“No,” he murmured.
“You don’t need to worry.” I looked down and muttered, “I’m over that.”
If Dorian was smart, he’d see right through me. He’d see that all of this was for his benefit because I was indeed still hung up on him, and the fact that he’d rejected me still stung just as much as it had when it happened. And that was so very bad. I needed to protect myself from getting hurt even more. An idea occurred to me.
“In fact…” I continued. “I think the sooner we become more comfortable with this living situation out in the open, the better we’ll be. There’s nothing to hide. I think you should meet us tomorrow night at Juno Bar. Bring a date.”
Dorian narrowed his eyes, seeming perplexed. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t have a date on a Friday night.”
