“Great. So I can have you all to myself.” She hooks her purse over her shoulder, looking at me expectantly.
Lance has his arm around the other girl, his hand resting near her tit. He looks at me, then at her, then back at me. “You out, Ballistic?”
“Uh, I don’t—” I should feel something other than conflict, like maybe some kind of reaction in my pants, but there’s nothing. Not even a hint of hard-on happening.
Lance eyes her again. “You check your messages lately?”
I don’t know why he’s asking me that. I’ve got this weird feeling in my stomach like I drank too much. That could explain the lack of action in my pants, except I’ve only had three beers. That’s nothing. I can drink at least six before I start feeling it.
I reach behind me for my jacket and feel around in the pocket for my phone. The girl who thinks she’s going to get naked with me puts her palm on my thigh and squeezes. “You can check your messages on the way to your room, right?”
I ignore her and her wandering hand and look at my phone. I checked it a couple hours ago after the game on the way to the bar, but I had nothing—not even a good luck message from Lily, which kind of sucked. Now there are fifteen new messages, all of which have appeared in the last half hour. I don’t know what the deal is with the reception here in Canada. Miller warned me it can be wonky sometimes. It’s weird, like this country creates some kind of phone limbo.
Some of the messages are from Miller—but his contact is all screwy, coming up as a number instead of his name. Several are from another number that’s vaguely familiar. The girl beside me is still talking. Her hand’s still on my thigh. I move it off because it’s distracting. “Gimme a minute.”
I skip the messages from Miller and check the other ones.
Msg me when u get this. I can take Uber 2u
idk what hotel ur at
Sunny isn’t answring
Lft u vm
Got hotel addy. On my way, ok?
“Fuck.” A horrible feeling slams into me like a puck to the groin. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I scrub a palm over my face.
The girl puts a hand on my arm. “Is everything okay? Why don’t we go upstairs?”
“Can you back off?” I’m way loud. And angry. For a lot of reasons I don’t understand.
She blinks a few times, her caterpillar eyelashes fluttering. “What’s your problem?”
My phone beeps with another message:
here
“I gotta go.” I push my chair away from the table. “I’ll get you for the drinks tomorrow, yeah?” I say to Lance.
“Sure thing, Ballistic. You okay?”
“I don’t know yet.”
The girl, who’s clueless, stands up like she’s ready to come with me. I hold it up, prepared to shut her down, but Lance grabs her by the wrist and pulls her close. “He’s got shit to take care of. You can stay here with us, gorgeous.”
She’s does that blinking thing again, but seems too stunned or maybe confused to argue. Lance pulls her down in the chair beside him. I owe him one.
Grabbing my jacket, I make my way to the exit. I don’t want Lily to see Lance with the girls. Nothing happened, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel like shit about what might or might not have if I hadn’t gotten her messages. I hit the call button and bring the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” her voice hits me in stereo.
She’s standing in the lobby, close to the elevators. She’s wearing a skirt, and her legs are bare. Her shirt has a sheen to it—fitted, pretty, soft. My cock jerks like it’s been electrocuted. I cross the room, punch the button for the elevator, and slide an arm around her from behind.
I lower my mouth to her ear. “You came.”
She gasps, and her phone drops to the carpeted floor. “You scared the crap out of me!”
She turns around and puts her hands out as if to push me, but I tighten my grip around her, crushing her to my chest.
“Seriously, why didn’t—”
I don’t give her a chance to finish the question. I tilt her head back and take her mouth. It’s already open, so I don’t have to fight to get my tongue inside. She tastes sweet, like she’s been eating candy. She stops trying to push me away and holds on to my shirt. I don’t give a shit that we’re in the middle of the lobby and I’ve got my tongue down her throat. I may also have my hand on her ass.
I hear my name and see the flash of a camera, reminding me that while I’m fine with this PDA, Lily’s picture posted all over the bunny sites—with me groping her—isn’t going to go over well with Waters or Miller. It’s more Waters I’m concerned about.
I move my hand to her waist and break the kiss, pressing my forehead against hers. “Hi.”
“Hi back,” she says breathlessly.
“You came.”
“Well, not yet. But based on this greeting, I probably will soon.” Her laugh is shaky, laced with nervousness maybe, or uncertainty.
The elevator dings. I scoop up her phone, take her hand, and pull her inside, slamming my thumb against the close door button repeatedly before anyone else can get in with us. We narrowly miss having to share the space with another couple. As soon as we’re alone, I press the button for the twenty-second floor. Then I cage her against the wall with my arms.
“I didn’t think you were coming.” I don’t mean to sound pissed, or like it’s an accusation, but I think I do. I don’t get what the hell is happening, or why I’m feeling so messed up. It’s not like we’re a thing. She’s not my girlfriend. I’m the guy she’s fucking, or being fucked by, every once in a while.