Page 28 of Wristlocked
“She’ll be ready,” I tell her, ignoring the fact that I said pretty much the same thing to Gia the last time I saw her. “I know what I’m doing.” Another lie. Where Gia Laurent is concerned, I’m completely fucking blind.
“Do you?” The cool doubt in her voice makes me grind my teeth. “I don’t think you’d appreciate the fallout if you embarrass the Laurents come December.”
No shit.
“Sure you’re not worried I’ll embarrassyou?”
“Gale,” she sighs. “I don’t know why you insist on pretending I have anything but your best interests at heart. You know I care deeply about you and your future. Which I’ve invested considerable resources into ensuring, as you are quite aware.”
“I’m aware.”
“Gale—” Her tone takes on a warning edge.
“She’ll be ready,” I say again, with more force this time. “I’m not going to fuck this up, don’t worry.”
“Of course I worry. I want to see you shine the way I know you can.”
It’s a line like she would have used on the old me, the one who would’ve believed her. I flop back on my bed and close my eyes.
“So,” she continues, taking my silence for the submission she knows it is. “Omar will see you out front at six?”
“Fine.”
“And Gale, no jeans this time, please. Wear the pinstripes.”
I wear jeans. At the last minute, I chicken out and swap the ripped and faded ones for a tight pair in dark denim that hugs my ass. At five forty-five, I leave my jacket on the bed and go to tell Laurent I’m canceling our rehearsal. I’ve been avoiding her ever since I lost my fucking mind and tried to swallow herpoisonous tongue at the end of our last session, skipping the main gym to train alone in the practice room. It never crossed my mind to ditch out on tonight, however, and I’ve been in a state of restless anticipation all day, eager to discover what new level of hell we can sink to together. If that’s not happening, I need to at least see her face. And find out if she’s wearing the damn fishnets.
Carmen slips into the elevator as the doors are closing, sidling up to me with a flirty smile. She’s been extra stalkerish since I started working with Gia, especially now that I haven’t fucked her since the start of the term.
“I like you all dressed up,” she says, toying with the buttons on my black shirt. I ignore her, leaning around to push the button for Gia’s floor. “Where are you going?” Her fingers trail to the waistband of my jeans, and I grab her wrist before she can grope me.
“I have a date,” I snap, pushing her away. Calling it that makes it sound like I have a choice. Carmen glances at the lit circle for the third floor.
“With Gia Laurent? I thought you weren’t trying to fuck her.” She pouts and crosses her arms under her tits. Since I have no interest in the display, I let my head fall back and scrub a hand through my hair.
“I said I don’t need to fuck her to get what I want.”Unless fucking her until she’s covered in cum and tears turns out to be exactly what I want.
“So it’s, what? An extra perk? Why even bother? Come back to my room and let me peel you out of those fancy clothes.” She pushes off the wall, reaching for my face.
“Not happening.” Jesus, I don’t need this shit right now. Of course, I don’t need rumors flying around that I’m trying to get in Gia Laurent’s pants, either. I should just admit thatI’m meeting Celeste. Carmen knows the score.Everyone does. It shouldn’t bother me more now just because a woman with lightning in her eyes called me a whore.
The doors slide open, and I tear myself from Carmen’s grip.
“You really think you’re the first wannabe cirque god to try and ride baby Laurent to the top?” she spits as I go to leave. “If you think her daddy’s gonna step up for a trashy ex-delinquent like you, you’re delusional.”
Throwing an arm up to catch the door, I glance back over my shoulder. “We’re done, Carmen. Don’t try this shit again.”
No more trashy delinquent dick for you.
She flips me off as the doors slide closed.
I take three deep breaths in the empty hallway and force my hands to unclench. I don’t give a shit about Carmen. I don’t want to have to give a shit about Celeste. I care way more than I want to admit about Gia Laurent.
When I knock on her door, I’m idly hoping she’ll answer it fresh from a shower and wrapped in some tiny towel so I can take the image of her damp skin with me on my date with Celeste.
Her hair is actually wet when she answers the door, but she’s already dressed for practice in a loose T-shirt with the neck and hem cut away to expose one freckled shoulder and a pale swath of her stomach. And she’s wearing the fishnets. I can’t help but smile at her nerve.
“Gale.” Her eyes widen at finding me on her doorstep, then narrow as she takes in my decidedly non-workout attire. “Looks like you’re ditching me.” The resignation in her tone stings, although I shouldn’t be surprised that she half expected me to stand her up. It’s not much of a stretch after I ghosted her for the last few days.
