Page 28 of His Curvy Temptation

“Do you still play?”

I sigh.

“I could,” I reply. “If I had an instrument. I’m probably rusty, but it’s one of those things that I did for so long. I could probably recall it pretty quickly with a little practice.”

“What happened to your cello?”

“Sold it,” I reply simply. “It went for a couple thousand, which helped me put the deposit on my place in the city.”

“Ouch. That sucks.”

“It’s a large instrument anyway,” I say, shrugging this off. “My apartment is small and besides, I’m sure my neighbors would complain about me playing music. They complain abouteverything.The walls are paper thin.”

“City living,” he nods.

“It is what it is,” I giggle. “I mean, it has its perks. For instance, I can basically hear the neighbors having sex every night. It’s so loud, almost like I’m sitting right there in their bedroom watching.”

His eyes widen and I laugh again, pleased that I can shock this worldly tough guy.

“And this is a perk for you?” he asks.

“I mean, it’s something to do in between episodes ofStranger Things,”I reply in delight. “Come on, don’t tell me you wouldn’t mute the TV and listen closely if you heard moans coming through the wall. I can’t resist!”

He shakes his head, looking at me thoughtfully.

“So,” he says. “You play the cello, you’re wrapping up your college degree, and in your spare time you watch Stranger Things while spying on your neighbors in between episodes.”

“It’s not spying if they go at it so hard that their headboard bangs into the wall behind my couch,” I point out.

“Fair enough,” he says, bowing his head. “You are fascinating. What else can I learn about you, Andy? I want to know everything.”

My body heats up, once again feeling his intense and watchful gaze on me.

10

Elijah

Is it just me,or this date going spectacularly well?

I’m not a smooth talker. Tonight I realized that for the last few years, not only have I not gone on many actual dates, but none of those past dates were ones where I actuallycaredabout the outcome.

Sure, I wanted the woman to like me well enough to sleep with me.

But nothing more than that.

And because of this, I would let the woman lead, let her dominate the conversation, relying on her shock and awe of me and my status, my wealth, in order to earn her favor.

Andy is more of a challenge. Not just because I actually give a damn what she thinks about me, and don’t just want her to sleep with me tonight. But also because, though she seems intimidated by me, she also isn’t overly impressed with my wealth.

We’re not talking about the brand of my car, or my vacation home in Aspen, or the three thousand dollar bottle of wine we’re sharing.

No. Instead we’re talking about fast food burgers, the first concert we ever saw (Me:Radiohead. Her:The Arcade Fire).

We’re talking about the weirdest things we’ve ever seen on the subway, about what kind of tattoo we would get if we didn’t care about who saw it, about her plans after she graduates college in a couple of weeks.

When this last topic comes up, I wait for her to announce some kind of agenda, some angle with me. She wants to run her own business, and I hold my breath and wait, expecting her to dive into a request, a favor she needs from me, in order to kick start this dream.

Surprising myself, I realize I’m willing to say yes to whatever she needs. Not because it’s a means to an end, a way to get her to come home with me and climb into bed, but because I actually give a fuck. I want to see Andy succeed. Why?

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