Page 17 of Break You

“Holy shit. Tell me that you at least got it together enough to cover yourself up?”

“I’d love to be able to tell you that, but it would be a lie. While he didn’t even try to disguise the fact that he was ogling my chest, I let my eyes drift down to below his waist, and of course, by that time he was sporting the hard on from hell.” Of course, he was.

“I can’t even, with this story. I really wish I had popcorn. So, what happened next?” I tucked my legs in a tighter ball underneath myself on the couch.

“Well, I finally found my wits and my voice to match, and I said ‘Seriously? What the fuck are you even looking at? Scram!’ At which he turned on his heel and left.”

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much. I was epically turned on, but also pretty freaked out by the end of it. When he’d gone, I finished getting dressed and went out to the bar to get a drink. As I crossed the room, I could feel his eyes boring into my back, so I made the mistake of turning around. Sure enough, he was staring at me in that same way. I can’t believe I found it so creepy, yet hot at the same time.”

Neither could I. What a bizarre situation.

* * *

As I made my way out of Rollergirl, a black town car pulled up to the curb rolling along as I did the same. I ignored it, of course.

The window opened. “Ms. Gordon. My name is Tony. I’m one of Xavier Cross’s drivers. He’s asked that I take you home.”

Oh, hell to the never gonna happen no.

I stared straight ahead, not even acknowledging I’d heard anything or seen anything. As far as I was concerned, “Tony” was just as invisible as the Emperor’s new clothes.

Moments later, as I rolled along, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out wearily. There were only two people that could be messaging me that time of night and I wasn’t in the mood to deal with either of them.

Looking down at the screen, I saw I had a call from the college messenger app. Xavier.

“What the fuck do you want?” I didn’t even know why I’d asked. The answer was pretty obvious.

“Get in the goddamn car.”

“Do you realize how skeevy that makes you sound? Are you stalking me?”

“No. My driver called me and said you’re refusing the ride.”

“Hahahaha! Are you insane?” It was a rhetorical question, and Xavier had the good sense not to answer.

“You’ve had your driver waiting out here for God-knows how long.” It had probably been hours. I’d stayed behind, chatting with Kik and the rest of the gang way later than I should have, especially considering I had a pretty full schedule the next day. “And now you’re calling me to convince me to accept the lift. Sounds an awful lot like stalking to me. I’ll be getting in the car when hell freezes over, so you can send your man home.”

“Jesus Christ! Do you have to be so difficult all the time?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do. It’s a survival thing. But if you don’t like it, you have a funny way of showing it, given that everywhere I turn, there you are. Am I going to find you in my apartment wearing my underwear when I get home?” I stifled laughter. The situation wasn’t even remotely funny, but I couldn’t shake the image of Xavier prancing around in one of my black lace G-strings.

“It’s not about liking it, or you, for that matter, because I don’t. But it’s late. You don’t have a car. You can’t just roller-skate around the city.”

“Yet here I am doing exactly that. Go to sleep Xavier. Tell your driver to stop curb-crawling, or I’ll call the police and tell them he’s trying to procure paid sex.”

“You wouldn’t.’

“Try me.” I wasn’t about to get some poor guy arrested just for doing his job, but Xavier didn’t need to know that.

“Listen, if you’re worried about me finding out where you live, you could have him stop a few blocks away and walk the rest of the way.”

“I’m not concerned about you knowing where I live.” Except now that he’d put the idea in my head, I was. “I’m concerned about having any kind of involvement with you, or anyone connected to you. Period. I can’t avoid it for the stupid fucking assignment, but I’m going to work out a way to minimize contact. Other than that, I’m out.”

“You know getting yourself killed out there will be playing right into my hands, don’t you?” Jesus! He was as much of a drama queen as my big brother.

“Well you don’t need to worry about that, because I’m not going to get killed.”

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