Page 34 of The Dominator

“I was pretending,” I said quickly, feeling like I was in very dangerous territory.

“What’s the difference?” He frowned at me. “There’s no difference.”

“You told me to behave a certain way and I did. What did I do wrong?” I was trying to not sound snarky. I was trying to not provoke him.

“Nothing. You were perfect.” He looked at me with sourness.

Why was I so pissed off?

Because if this girl could, on a dime, play me like this, make it feel that real, I was in serious fucking trouble. She’d already dinged my armor somehow. She was looking up at me with huge eyes and a trembling bottom lip asking what she’d done wrong and truthfully, I didn’t know how to answer her because she’d done just what I’d told her to do. She’d done a masterful job of acting like she wanted to be with me. I felt guilt sweep through me. I didn’t fucking like it.

“Do you really want to know what the difference is?” she asked me.

“Yeah, why don’t you enlighten me?”

I needed a fucking drink.

“I pretended you were the guy from the ice cream parlor,” I said quickly.

He looked at me weirdly for a second, and then it started to dawn on him, I think.

I continued. “When you came into the ice cream parlor, when you flirted with me, I fell into total crush mode. I thought, wow Tia, imagine if this gorgeous man, not a boy, a man, took you on a date? What would that be like? I imagined what I wanted it to be like. A nice restaurant instead of fast food. All dressed up. Romantic. I thought about you for days. You were on my mind right up until I graduated. When I met you for the second time you shattered that image, that fantasy. Shattered it. Tonight, it felt like my life was on the line and I couldn’t lie, couldn’t pretend to like you, not after everything that’s happened. So,” I took a deep breath, “I tried to rewind things. I pretended you were him… the guy I first fantasized about, how I’d thought you might be.” I swallowed and then continued in barely more than a whisper, “and the date was kind of like I’d imagined and you kind of were like that, too.”

His expression dropped. He was two inches from my face and he just stared at me. He stared at me for the longest time. I didn’t look away. I just leaned against the door.

I finally spoke, “Tommy, please don’t hurt me tonight.” It came out in a flurry of words, almost like two words, his name and then the rest.

He dropped the shirt on the floor and slowly backed away from me, palms up, like I might shoot, then he was at the bar, pouring whiskey in a glass and he drank it straight in one gulp, then slammed the glass on the bar. I flinched, but stayed put. He poured another few inches in the glass and downed that, too. Then he was staring at me and I couldn’t get a read on him. Finally, he slammed the glass down again and strode over to me.

Here we go. I felt sick to my stomach. I felt like I was gonna throw up.

“Go to bed, Tia. Your reward for this evening’s exemplary behavior is that you don’t have to sleep with me tonight. Excuse me.”

Startled, I stepped away from the door.

He left.

I stood, chin to the floor for a moment, then I walked over to the bar, and shakily poured a bit of whiskey into a glass and I downed it. It burned like a sonofabitch.

I got ready for bed, washing the remnants of my ruined make-up off and putting on his dress shirt from the floor.

I tossed and turned almost all night. I thought about Cal and Rose, I thought about the Carusos’ apartment, thought about my friends, about school in the Fall, and most of all I pondered the enigma that was Tommy Ferrano. I didn’t know what to make of him, of the events of the evening. I lay there, lost in thought, torn between stressing about my future and remembering the way that kiss on the beach at sunset felt.

Wearing his shirt with his scent on it felt so intimate; it was almost like he was beside me and that scent was Ice Cream Parlor Hottie to me. Not the gangster, the abusive jerk, but the guy who’d kissed me like I’d never been kissed in my life, who’d smiled at me, who’d laughed at the puppy, held my hand while we walked down the beach, carried my shoes.

I fell asleep probably just before dawn, so slept late. I glanced at the small clock on Tommy’s nightstand and it was 11:30. I sat up and stretched. I got up, used the bathroom, took a shower, and put on his bathrobe, which was hanging up on the back of the bathroom door. It was just the tiniest bit damp around the collar, telling me he must’ve used it today. He must’ve showered in here while I slept. It felt too intimate wearing it. I changed my mind and got out of it, staying in just the towel while I brushed my teeth. I then dressed in more of Sarah’s clothes and made my way downstairs, finding Sarah on a stool at the kitchen island doing something on her phone, laughing.

“Hi,” I said, hesitantly.

She waved me over and showed me a picture of a bunch of old men in Speedo bathing suits with some silly caption below it. I didn’t even read what it said; I just scrunched up my nose at the image and backed away.

She cackled all the way to the coffee maker and brewed a cup for me. I watched her put in two full and then three quarters of a spoonful of sugar. Yep, the weaning off had begun. She stirred it and passed it to me.

“Today I’m going grocery shopping. Anything you fancy, let me know and I’ll add it to my list. Tell me what you like to eat. What do you want for breakfast today?”

“Nothing, I’m not hungry. And um…” I so did not want to have this conversation. It would mean I was settling in here.

“I’ll get you cereal, at least, so you have something in your stomach. I’ll get you some more clothes to wear. What do you like to eat in the mornings? What are your favorite foods? What do you like to drink?”

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