Page 30 of David's Love

He might be, but I’m not.

I wanted to see him tonight. I wanted to hear his sultry voice, get lost in his haunting eyes, and have him make me come with his words. And later, I wanted him to be furious because I couldn’t feel his touch and didn’t have him here with me.

Now we’re back to exchanging messages––I’m sick of them––and postponing seeing each other.

The reality is we’re too busy during the day to stop and flirt on the phone.

This is not working, and I’d be surprised if he didn’t notice that already.

“Okay. We’ll talk then,” I say, just as Chloe knocks on the back door.

I end the call, glance in the mirror, gather my hair into a messy ponytail, and walk out to open the door for her.

ELIZABETH

Her eyes go to mine,a flicker of surprise falling through her gaze.

“What’s with you? Did you cry?”

I push out a fake smile.

“No. Of course not. Why would I smile silly if I cried?”

I invite her in and check the backyard out of habit before closing and locking the door and following her into the living room.

“Are we eating here or in the kitchen?” she asks.

“The kitchen is good,” I say, already searching for two plates in the cupboard. “What do you want to drink?” I ask with my back to her.

“Can I have a soda?”

“Sure.”

“Do you have beer by any chance?”

“Beer?” I ask, my hand on the refrigerator door. “Since when are you drinking beer?”

She shrugs, her cheeks flushed. I run my eyes over her. She wears red pants and a yellow ski jacket.

“You know I don’t have beer,” I say, peeling my eyes away from her and scooping out a can of soda from the fridge.

“Say thank you,” I joke, handing it to her.

“Thank you,” she says like a schoolgirl before removing her jacket and draping it over the back of her chair.

“So…” I murmur, setting the table. “What’s the occasion?”

Her drink fizzles as she opens her soda and takes a swig.

“Mmm. I was thirsty,” she says, running the back of her hand over her lips. “The occasion. Oh. I wanted us to celebrate the fact that I got the job.”

“Right.” I laugh. “How did you get here?”

“I called a cab.”

She becomes restless in her seat.

“What?” I ask, looking at her motherly.

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