Page 16 of Semi-Rejected Life

“And,” he added. “If you decide you don’t want him, send him over to me, huh?”

My brows dropped as I glared at Andy. “Really? That’s your advice?”

“Yep. I’m not ashamed of it either.”

“I mean… I guess you sort of make a point.”

“Yeah. I made a few of them. So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t fucking know,” I huffed, taking another bite of the donut. “I’m still working it out!”

“Well, don’t waste all damn summer figuring it out,” he said, pushing himself up from the desk. “The clock is ticking.”

Andy walked out of the office. Pans rattled in the bakery as he got to work, leaving me to finish my coffee and sit alone with my thoughts.

I mean, he had a point. I couldn’t deny that. River was gonna leave whether I liked it or not. And while I wasn’t happy that he hadn’t been totally up front with me, I realized that part of the misunderstanding was my own. I’d placed my own expectations on him, assuming that we were on a date and not just some sort of casual outing.

But did I want to fuck River? That was a resounding yes. But could I keep my emotions out of it? That I wasn’t so sure of. Getting that intimate with someone took a level of trust that seemed far beyond the reaches of a casual acquaintance. However, maybe that was the key. I didn’t need to trust him like I would a lover or a boyfriend, I could merely trust in our mutual need for release. He wanted to get his dick wet and I wanted to get fucked. It was simple.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened the texting app. Flipping into the deleted section, I scrolled down until I found River’s messages from the night before. Before I could think about it too much, I started to type.

Me: I thought about what you said and I want to talk.

I paused, then held the backspace key down until the message was gone. It was too personal. My emotions didn’t need to be explained and I’m sure he didn’t care what they were, anyway. Instead, I started to type a new message.

Me: When can we meet up?

Chapter Eight: River

Vincent: When can we meet up?

Well, that was the last thing I expected to hear from the man that yelled at me and walked away the night before. Not that I blamed him for his reaction. He was right. While I told him I was going home at the end of the month, telling him I’d never see or speak to him ever again was a completely different story. And, if I was being honest, a bit abrasive. My confidence carried me away in the moment and I scared him off.

But now he was texting me. Not only that, but he seemed interested again.

I didn’t understand what had changed. So I started to type back.

Me: Whenever you’re free. I’m pretty open. And we can talk about things too… I can explain.

Vincent: I don’t really care what the reason is

That response surprised me.

Vincent: This is just about sex, isn’t it?

Me: I mean… yes? Because of my life back home… that’s all it can be.

Vincent: Sounds good to me. You’re a top, right?

Me: Yeah…

Vincent: Perfect. Let me know when you’re available. I have an apartment to myself so we don’t have to be at the hotel. Wouldn’t want Sam to think you’re hiring a sex worker or something.

Me: Are you sure this is alright? You seemed pretty upset last night.

Vincent: Yep. I get out at eleven. Text me if you want the address.

Damn… talk about a complete one-eighty. I thought for sure the guy absolutely despised me… and maybe that hadn’t changed. But he at least seemed open to tolerating me. And really, what more could I ask for? With my obligations back home creeping closer with every passing minute, I couldn’t offer him anything more than good sex. Well… maybe I could offer him more if I had the balls to tell my father no for the first time in my life. Just the mere thought of it sent a cold streak of fear through my chest.

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