Page 32 of Only for Tonight
“Certifiable would be showing up here in the middle of the night,” Ariella explains, walking toward the glass window. Her hair is wild from sleeping on it wet, as well as my hands holding her head while I fucked her face at two o’clock this morning. “Showing up in the morning is premeditation.” She turns to look at me from the side and tries to hide her smile. “I’d check to make sure your tires aren’t slashed or you have ‘cheater’ either spray-painted on your car or keyed into the side of your car.” My eyes widen.
“It’s a good thing that I park my car in the garage,” I mumble.
“Well, she can always be lurking in the bushes waiting for you to slip up.” She rolls her lips together. “I would think twice about starting the car. She could have put sugar in your gas tank.”
“Why is it that you make me laugh all the fucking time?” I ask her and she shrugs. “Two seconds ago, I was seething and now it’s like I forgot why I was so mad.” She looks over at me. “Almost, that is.”
“Almost.” She rolls her eyes. “Why is it that no one likes to hear that word? Or the word ‘maybe.’ Like if someone says maybe, chances are it’s a no.” I see that she usually just randomly talks when she’s nervous. “It’s as bad as ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’” She folds her arms over her chest. “When we all know it’s never them and always you.”
“I don’t even know what to say to that.” I look down at my phone, going to her number and blocking it. “She called my mother to tell her about you when you showed up here two days ago.”
Ariella gasps. “Your mother knows about…” She reaches out to grab my arm. “Does your father?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Neither of them do. She just said that she caught me in bed with someone.” I smirk. “I mean, she got the days wrong but still.”
“So she called your mother,” she asks me, her voice filled with astonishment, “to tell on you?”
“Yeah.” I laugh at how absurd it is. “I guess she did.”
“What did your mother say?”
“That she didn’t want to meet any other girlfriend I met unless it was a for-sure thing,” I tell her and then I look in her eyes. “Let me order you something to eat and then we can talk.”
“Order me something to eat?” She looks into the kitchen toward the fridge. “Do you not have eggs, toast, and bacon?” Her eyes go big. “Or stuff to make pancakes? We can do breakfast tacos, using the pancakes as the tortilla.” She lets go of my arm.
“I don’t even know what that is.” I look at her as she walks into the kitchen and looks at me.
“Do you have pancake mix?” she asks me and I shrug.
“I usually eat at the rink, and not for nothing, Ari, pancakes aren’t really—” Her eyes come to a stop on mine in slits, and I stop talking immediately.
“If you say healthy, Jaxon”—she glares at me—“I’m going to…” I hold up my hand.
“I was going to say something I eat,” I reply instead of saying they are not healthy. “But I think my sister bought some mix when she was here the last time.” I walk to the kitchen and open up the cupboard, pulling out the drawer that she deemed hers when she was here the last time. It’s filled with crackers and some cookies and then at the back is the box.
“Here.” I hand her the box.
“Do you have syrup?” she asks me and I look at her, picking up the one that is sugar-free. Her nose scrunches up as if she just saw the most disgusting thing she could ever see.
She holds up her hand. “Order me pancakes, scrambled eggs, and sausage.” She shakes her head.
“See that?” I point at her. “That I can do.” I pull up the app to order food and look up at her. “Regular pancakes or do you want chocolate chip?” She looks up at the ceiling, contemplating her answer, and I take in how beautiful she is.
“Buttermilk,” she answers, and I nod putting in the order.
“Thirty minutes,” I tell her and she nods, walking over to the couch and sitting in the corner, curling her feet under her.
“What did you order?”
“I’m not telling you.” I shake my head, sitting next to her on the couch, putting my arm around her legs, and bringing her into my side.
“Is that because it’s healthy?”
“It’s not that healthy,” I defend myself.
“What is it?” She puts her hand on my arm and I feel somewhat settled just by one touch.
“Mushroom, spinach, and pepper omelet,” I say and her face grimaces. “The whole egg and not just egg whites.”
