Page 19 of Switch
“Yeah, I—” I reach down and open up the oven, grabbing the pan with bare hands in my distraction.“Fuck.”I snag a mitt from a nearby hook and try again.“I got breakfast.”
“You cook?”
“I don’t.”The throbbing in my fingertips has me suppressing a hiss as I place the baking sheet I found on the cooktop.“Besides, there’s not much in your fridge except beer.There’s a place downtown where my friends and I go for brunch on Sundays.I grabbed some stuff from there.”
My oven at home has been broken since Evans and I moved in.Not that it matters since the microwave works fine.However, Fallon’s is a high-end luxury brand with a digital display and an easily accessible “keep warm” button.
I slide over a plate of pancakes topped with strawberries.“Here.Eat.”
There’s this feeling in me I’d definitely be wise to ignore—a sort of weird, glowy pleasure, like I’ve fulfilled my responsibility of taking care of him.Not that anyone’s ever accused me of being wise.
Really, though?He’s not my responsibility.If there’s one thing I don’t need, it’s someone else to take care of.I don’t even want to take care of him.Do I?
It’s not like it’s my job.The job’s over.
Why in the hell does that make my stomach hurt?
It takes Fallon staring down at the pancakes for the slowest minute of my life to realize maybe he doesn’t want to be taken care of anyway.He’s probably wondering what the hell I’m still doing here.
Those orgasms must have messed with my brain.
Fuck this.I’ve got bigger problems.I clear my throat.“I should get going.”
After taking a minute to gather the empty food bags and containers and stuffing them all into a gleaming stainless-steel trash can, I pat my pockets to be sure I’ve got my wallet, phone, and knife.Without looking back, I head out through the kitchen and toward the front door.
“PJ.”
When I turn around, Fallon’s propped his cheek on his fist.His shy smile seems at odds with his height and sturdy build, and I don’t think I like the sensations those crinkles around his eyes create in my stomach.
“Thank you.I had a great time last night.”
I lift my chin, waiting for the “but” I know is coming.
“The thing is, last night was my first time going on a date in a decade.Maybe you weren’t thinking it anyway, but I’m not a good bet for anything more right now.”
There it is.
“Yeah.”I don’t like how my voice sounds, like I’m the one with bruised vocal cords.“It’s no worries.”And I mean that with my whole chest.I do.
Okay, I don’t.I’m lying through my teeth.What matters here is that I want it to be true.If I’ve still got Fallon’s spicy scent in my nostrils and the feel of his hair between my fingers, that’s… Well, it’ll pass, right?Like the flu.It’s intense and painful for a while and then you’re all back to normal again.
“I’ve got plenty of shit on my plate,” I add.
Fallon squints in my direction.“You look younger in the light of day.Please tell me you’re old enough to drink.”He laughs a little, but he’s not actually too far off.
“I don’t really drink.But I’m twenty-four.”
“Jesus.”He drops his fork.“I can’t believe my brother would set me up with someone thirteen years younger than me.”
Fuck.I’d forgotten all about the brother.If the brother was the one who set up the date through Brennan, and it sounds like he was, then Fallon probably doesn’t even know I’m an escort.Which means if I had asked him to fork over cash last night, that would have been at best awkward and at worst painful.
Whatever else I’m feeling right now, I don’t think I’d enjoy hurting him that way.Makes it for the best, though, that this is a one and done situation.
“You could say it’s more like a friend-of-a-friend situation.I wouldn’t say we know-know each other, really.”It feels like the closest I ought to get to the truth under the circumstances.
Fallon shakes his head.“Knowing Wes, he knows you’re too young for me and set it up anyway.He probably thought you’d be fun.”That shy smile comes out to play again.“You were.”
Okay, this right here?This is my cue to get the hell out.
