Page 56 of Tips and Trysts

“Wait around until you became the president?” I let out a clipped laugh that extends a few seconds too long before understanding slaps me across the face. I stop laughing immediately. “You wanted me to be your mistress. You wanted to sneak around and hide me—like you’re trying to doright now.”

“It’s not like that,” he protests before pausing. “I mean, yes, I want to sneak around with you, but I don’t want you to be my mistress. I wanted you to—Iwantyou to be my girl.”

“Your girl?” I shake my head. “Stop.Stop. You’re such a politician. A secret girl and a mistress are thesame damn thing.”

“Right. You’re right. I know it wasn’t a flawless plan, but—”

“Was it even a plan? Because this sounds more like something you cooked up after eating one of Dalton’s gross edibles.”

“Hey. He’s really proud of those,” Everett protests lightly.

“Whatever. Just tell me: Back when you were ignoring me one day and piercing your dick the next, why did you think I would want you after you were so cold to me?”

“Because you liked it,” he answers matter-of-factly. “I fascinated you. I could see it. The way you studied me. The way you spoke to me. The way you toyed with me.”

“Toyed,” I repeat. “What are you talking about?”

He raises his shoulder. “We both knew you could rip me to shreds if you wanted to, but you didn’t. You just toyed with me. Insulted me back. Mocked me. Provoked me…and I liked it too.”

This time, I’m quiet. I fold my arms over my chest, waiting.

“There’s something here. You feel it. I sure as hell do. You and I…we get each other, don’t we?”

“Everett—”

“We’re sardonic. Blunt. Endearingly dickheaded. And neither of us minds being brought down. In fact, we both welcome it. It makes things more fun, doesn’t it?”

My lips press together in a line. I don’t lie, and correcting him would be a lie.

Everett is right. Hehasalways fascinated me. Even the night we met, when he was in a crowded bar, talking about driving to Shenandoah to look at meteors, I knew there was more to this guy than his policy wonk persona. The puzzle has only gotten more complicated and fascinating since then: his capacity for taking shit from his friends and from me, his innate sense that I like to be degraded, his willingness to do it—and his own desire for it.

For months, I thought I didn’t understand him. I now realize, I know so much about him—and he knows me just as well.

“You have this effect on me,” he goes on. “It scares me and excites me all at once. Nobody has ever rattled me like this. Only you.”

I can feel myself softening to his explanation, but the thing is, he wants me to soften to him.

Political charm. Manipulation.

“But you lied to me,” I remind him—and I’ll never stop reminding him.

With those words, every bit of expectation that arose over the last few confessions disappears from Everett’s face.

“Not just for seven months, but in the hospital too,” I continue. “You lied. You didn’t just want to fuck me.”

“I panicked. I don’t panic, but I expected you to—”

“To be an easy whore? Let’s be clear, Everett: I let you play with me, but it’s a game. I’m not your whore, and if you had to lie to get me, then you never had me.”

His exhale is slow and measured as usual, set against a convincingly contrite expression. “I get it. I want to apologize.”

The temptation to hear him out is there, but I know better. “Don’t bother.” I raise my chin at the door. “Go.”

Everett freezes like he just realized he can’t talk his way out of the situation. “Wait.Wait—”

“We could keep hashing out the reasons why you decided to lie, but none of them would change the fact that you lied.”

He steps closer to me. “Wait—”

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