Page 58 of EverGreene
Don’t worry about that. It’s in good hands.
You have it?
Maybe.
I guess I won’t be wearing them, then.
Yes, you will.
Why do you think I’m going to listen to you?
Because you’re a good girl, Ever. A good girl who wants all her orgasms to belong to me and only me.
That’s presumptuous of you.
Am I wrong? Is there someone else I should know about?
My thoughts flickered back to the elevator and the smell of Loche’s cologne, woodsy with notes of cedar. The fire in his eyes when he looked into mine felt intimate, like he knew me inside and out, had had me before in a carnal way, and hungered for more.
Jesus. Was it getting hot in here?
That’s none of your business.
What’s his name?
I’m not seeing anyone else…yet.
If you keep teasing me, I’m going to punish you again.
Do your worst.
I’ll consider this foreplay.
I thought about Loche’s invitation to Thanksgiving dinner. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to go, but more like I had been holding out a sliver of hope that the impossible would happen and V would quit setting off alarm bells in my head. Here I had someone who had a real interest in me, whose face I could identify in a lineup, whose real name I knew, and all I could think about was the man who may be stringing me along until he caught sight of some other dumpster fire through her bedroom window and decidedYup, that’s her. Kind of like Joe fromYou, except hopefully without all the murder.
What are you doing for Thanksgiving?
I watched as the three dots bounced up and down on the screen, stopped, disappeared, and started back up again, until, after far longer than one would need to answer that question, text appeared on my screen.
I’m going out of town. Work.
Working? On Thanksgiving? Was he in retail? Or healthcare?
Secret fight club stuff?
Something like that.
The CIA. We’ll go with him being some kind of secret agent. It was a lot easier to swallow than a he’s just not that into you kind of scenario. Speechless, I sat staring at the phone, unsure of what to say in response. V was the stalker, yet I was going to come across as the stage five clinger, and I’ll be damned if I was going to pout over someone I wasn’t technically dating.
Are you okay?
His next message was sent after a few minutes of me not responding. No, V. I’m one thousand percent not okay.
I will be. Eventually. It’s getting late, and I haven’t eaten dinner yet. I’ll talk to you later.
Goodnight, little bird. I promise you, it won’t be much longer.
I wanted to slam the phone down on the table, but I only stopped myself because I couldn’t afford to buy a replacement. V had just affirmed that he was biding his time with me. At the end of the day, I would probably be one of a hundred girls he’d ditched along the way, bitter and defeated.
