Page 8 of Damaged
“Huh?”
She laughs, and it is like music. “You okay?”
“Me? Fuck yeah, of course I am. Why?” I ask, generally curious why she would ask that.
“Because you sound like you might have had a few drinks, and now you’re calling me. So either something is wrong, or you just missed the sound of my voice,” she replies.
Damn. She’s good. “Yeah, fine. I had a few drinks. I didn’t have a great day.”
“You want to tell me about it?” she asks.
She’s so damn sweet. I’m not used to sweet. I’m not used to a chick taking the time to ask me if I want to talk about it. “I appreciate it, but I’m good.”
“I’m not just a pretty face, with a badass body. I’m a good listener. Sometimes, I even tend to give some good advice.”
“Eva, why are you so damn nice to me?” Call it liquid courage or whatever, but I don’t understand.
“Brett, why wouldn’t I be?”
That’s her reply, like that makes any sense. Why wouldn’t she? I could list a thousand reasons why she shouldn’t be. What I don’t understand is why she is.
“Eva, come on.”
“Because you’re my friend,” she says with such sincerness. It makes me feel something. I have no idea what it is, but I’ll admit, I like it.
“Okay friend. Let’s hit the bar.”
**
We’ve been at the bar for nearly an hour, but I’m still thinking about when Eva walked toward me tonight, holy shit. To say she looks fucking hot is an understatement. Her long brown hair was blowing around from the light breeze. Those bright, smiling honey eyes were staring right through me. And that sexy, little body she rocks, covered in a tight green dress got the attention of my cock. Shaking my head I focus back on her.
The conversation flows easily and after a while I feel like I’m hanging with one of the guys. Only she is so not a guy. Her lips curve upward as she raises her drink to her lips.
“So, what about you?” she taunts.
“What about me?” I laugh.
“Have you ever been in love?”
“Hell no.” Even thinking about the ‘L’ word gives me a pulsing heart. I tug at my shirt collar.
“So, how do you avoid the feelings?” she asks, crossing those long, sexy legs of hers.
I lean close. “It’s all in the kissing.”
She laughs. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“There’s a lot of feelings tied in with kissing. That’s why I don’t do it.”
She sets her drink on the bar. “You don’t what? Kiss? How do you do that?”
“How do I not kiss? Easy. I just push their mouths in a more southern direction on my body.”
She laughs, swatting my leg with her well-manicured hand. “You’re insane.”
But it’s true. I don’t kiss women. Ever. But, staring at Eva’s plump lips I imagine kissing her. What her tongue would taste like along mine.
“Did you hear me?” Eva asks, interrupting my thoughts.
