Page 39 of Fake Dating Daxton Hawk
“I wasn’t watching you in a creepy way. Your handstand was impressive.”
“Pumpkin, that was like the least impressive thing I can do. Hang on, I’ll send you a couple of photos.” She’s silent for a few seconds, then two photos arrive on my phone and I’m speechless.
I’m staring at professional images of Jordan in lingerie, contorting her body in the most incredible ways. The first is of Jordan performing a handstand with her toes touching her head. In the second image, she’s in a giant martini glass, arching her back. Both images, though sensual in nature, are classy and beautiful.
“Fuck, you’re magnificent.”
“Thanks. I try. We should work out together sometime. See who can run faster on the treadmill. Not to boast, but you’ll need to bring your A game. I won five Age Champion medals for sprinting when I was in school.”
“You’d win. Cardio isn’t my strength. Where did you go to school?”
“Sydney. Mina and I moved here from Australia when we were twenty-one. I lived there from the age of twelve. Before that, I grew up in London.”
“Do you like it here?”
She sighs. In that one sound, I can hear I’ve steered the conversation away from a lighthearted topic. “Yes. My time in the US has been challenging, but it’s where I want to be.”
The line goes quiet again, but the silence isn’t awkward. It’s the opposite. Comforting, hearing her soft breath and knowing she’s there.
“Daxton?” My heart pounds faster at the sound of her speaking my name. But her voice is sad. I hate when Jordan is hurting. “Do you get lonely?”
“All the time.”
“I still don’t believe you, you know, about what you said the other night.”
“What did I say?”
“That you haven’t been with anyone since your ex. You’re a man and men have needs. Don’t tell me you go to bed alone every night.”
With just that one question, our conversation has turned even more intimate, the two of us lying in our beds, talking about sex.
“Believe it or not, Jordan, I do go to bed alone. Sex only cures loneliness for so long. When you have money, you can never trust people’s intentions and whether they’re being nice only to get something from you.”
“You’re right, that would be a lonely existence. But tell me this. Are you lonely now? Right this second?”
I take a deep breath and contemplate her words. “Not while talking to you on the phone. Not when we text all throughout the day.”
“Yeah. Me either. Will you…” Her words trail off, the end of her question disappearing with what sounds like nerves. But then she pushes forward. “Will you do this every night while you’re out of town?”
“Do what?”
“Call me. Just to chat.”
“Yes, Jordan.” I smile. “Of course I will.”
ChapterNineteen
Jordan
For a week now, I’ve been waking each morning with a smile on my face. I tell myself it’s due to me finally relaxing and enjoying all the luxuries of this penthouse, not because I spend each night talking to Daxton on the phone. And certainly not because it’s become a new routine for me to wake every morning and find texts from him, wishing me a good day.
I know I’m lying to myself when, on the seventh day, I’m disappointed because there’s no message waiting for me when I wake up. I don’t know how I landed myself in this position, from hating Daxton to now enjoying his company. I’ll even go as far as saying “enjoying” is an understatement. Talking to him is basically the only thing that makes me happy these days. We tease each other. We have inside jokes. Daxton even plays my silly hypothetical scenario game with me. Last night on the phone, he had me in fits of giggles because I asked whether he would rather die from quicksand or being submerged in Jello. He chose Jello, with the argument that he could eat his way to freedom.
I want to learn more about him—topics I have no right asking about, like what really happened between him and his ex who cheated on him. How deep do those scars run and has he moved on from her? This man has me fascinated.
Jordan
Excuse me but where is my good morning message?
