Page 38 of Make Me Sin (Bad Habit 2)
Two things: First, I’m not that girl who chases guys. Especially guys who have clearly said they’re not interested. Or, more gallantly, “you make me want to die.” I don’t think that could possibly be interpreted as anything remotely romantic. Although I’m sure there are girls out there who would take that statement as a challenge, I’m not one of them. I don’t want to be the nail in anyone’s coffin, thank you very much.
Second, I don’t think it’s fair or realistic to ask other people to change for you. If you want to change for them, knock yourself out. But if you’re thinking your relationship would be perfect if only he would do (or not do) this or that, you’re doomed to misery. Let him go, and find someone who fits you better. Nobody likes a nag.
Which leads me to the only logical conclusion.
A.J. is a no-go.
Forget the thermonuclear chemistry between us. Forget that he’s maybe the most soulful, beautiful, and—when he wants to be—sweet man I’ve ever met; he obviously comes with so much baggage, any relationship we could attempt would sink like a mafia rat thrown off the docks with his feet encased in cement.
Also, there’s the matter of the prostitutes.
I can just see it now. “Mom, Dad, I’d like to introduce you to my new boyfriend, A.J.! He’s super angry and unstable, is an expert at sending mixed messages, and just loves hookers! Don’t you, honey!”
I sigh, and drink my wine.
The phone rings; it’s my brother. This is one call I won’t avoid. Smiling, I pick up. “Hey, big brother, how are you?”
“Bug,” he says, his voice warm, “I’m glad I caught you. I’m great, back in the Big Apple where I belong. But the real question is: How are you? That little performance of yours the other night at the ’rents was straight out of an episode of Downton Abbey.”
I can tell he’s impressed. Jamie and I have always had a great relationship. He’s older than me by seven years, but it doesn’t feel like it. We’ve always been close, so I tell him the truth.
“I’m confused, a little depressed, and, according to Grace, in need of a good rogering.”
His response is dry. “Aren’t we all.”
“I’m being serious.”
“About which part? Because I might be able to help you out with the first two problems, but that last one is a little TMI, even for me.”
I puff out my lower lip and blow my hair off my forehead. “It’s just, you know. Men.”
His chuckle is knowing. “Men, plural? Or are we talking about one man in particular? Because I can see how that might be a problem, considering the size of those shoes.”
I glide right past the subject that he’s obsessed with, and move on. “How’d you know I wasn’t talking about Eric?”
There’s a short silence. “Because I’ve seen you with Eric. And you’ve never looked at Eric the way you looked at that scruffy blond sex god who walked into your store.”
I’m that obvious. Wonderful. I rest my forehead on my hand.
“Don’t worry, I don’t think anyone else can tell. Except for maybe the man himself. Honestly, bug, it was a little weird standing there while the two of you eye-fucked each other over the counter.”
Embarrassed, I bristle. “We were arguing, not eye-fucking!”
He snorts. “Don’t get testy, sis, I’m just calling it like I see it. And what I saw was two people trying to pretend they dislike each other enormously when what they really want is to get into each other’s pants.”
I deflate just as quickly as I snapped. “Anyway, it’s not going to happen. There’s only so many soul-killing statements a girl can take before she gets the hint.”
“Soul killing? That’s a little dramatic. Did he call you a princess again? Maybe something worse, a duchess, perhaps?”
“Are you ready for this?” I pause for dramatic effect. “He said, and I quote, ‘Being near you makes me want to die.’” I slap the table for added emphasis and sit back in my chair.
Jamie sounds disturbed. “I have to admit, that’s a little different than calling you Princess. Was he laughing when he said it?”
My voice grows quiet. “Actually, he looked like he was about to cry.”
“So what did you say?”
