Page 8 of Rebound With Me
“What?! I’m serious. Why aren’t you having sex with him already?”
“I just want to keep a clear head for a bit and find out more about him.”
“What do you need to know about him? Does his penis work and does he have condoms? That’s all you need to know. You want to know what I found out tonight? I’m starting to get back fat. This is what you have to look forward to. You’re single now, go have a one-night stand before I have it for you.” She hangs up.
“Marn? Marnie?”
Marnie sends a text of a surprised mouth-open smiley face and a baguette and a donut. And then she sends a text that sayszetywop, because she probably put her phone in her pocket without closing the messages app. It happens a lot.
I look at myself in the mirror, rip off a piece of paper towel and dab off the lip gloss, because I don’t want my shiny mouth to slide across Vince’s face if he actually tries to kiss me.
When I return from the ladies room, Vince gets up, steps out of the booth, eyes the guys at the end of the bar, and puts his hand on my hip, sending a shiver up my spine, while letting those guys know that he’s the only one here who will be putting his hand on me tonight. I am fine with that.
He lets me slide in, and even before I’ve settled myself into the booth next to him, he’s staring at my mouth and grinning. He’s noticed that I’ve removed the lip gloss and he knows what it means. This guy probably knows how to read all the signs. He’s probably seen all of the signs. All of the signs that say “yes please put your mouth on my mouth.”
His body is turned in towards me, protecting me from the other guys or keeping me from leaving, I don’t even care. I lean back against the wall, take in a deep, jittery breath, and push the Adios Motherfucker glass away from me.
“You had enough?”
“I think this motherflorker has done its job.”
He laughs—not as surprised as people usually are when they hear me use my faux-swear words for the first time. “Good. You feel better?”
I smile and nod.You have no idea.
He is still staring at my lips and smiling. It may be my imagination, but he seems to be leaning in closer to me, in slow motion, millimeter by excruciating millimeter.
“So, what exactly do you do now? For work, I mean.”
“Care to guess?”
“Please don’t make me guess.”
“I’ll give you a hint. I’m still in sales.”
“Oh shit.” I cover my mouth, because it has been years since I’ve said the word “shit” out loud. I will have to add a quarter to my swear jar. “If you’re a drug dealer I’m leaving.”
“I’m not a drug dealer. I don’t do drugs.”
His eyes tell me this is true. “Oh shit. Are you an escort? Are you going to charge me for this?” Two quarters in my swear jar.
“Charge you for what, exactly?” His gaze lazily travels from my eyes to my lips, down my neck and to a place that I’m pretty sure he can’t actually see unless he also has x-ray vision. He might have x-ray vision.
“Um.” My cheeks are burning up.
“I’m just messing with you.” He puts his hand on my arm and squeezes it quickly and gently before placing his hand back on the tabletop where I can see it. “You blush like a schoolgirl, I can’t help it. I really seem like an escort to you?”
“I guess I wouldn’t really know what an escort is like. And you don’t seem like a drug dealer to me either, FYI.”
“Good to know.”
“So what do you sell now?”
“Real estate. Commercial. Restaurants and bars are my specialty. I’m a broker.”
My mother is a residential realtor in Indiana. I don’t tell him this, because apparently we aren’t sharing that kind of information, but it makes him seem a little more familiar somehow.
“Yeah? How’d you get into that? Let me guess. You knew a guy.”
