Page 18 of Deny Me

“Oh really?” she asked, shifting in her seat and looking over my outfit.

I lifted a finger to point up and down at her jacket. “Well, I designed that jacket you’re wearing.”

“Really? This is your brand? That’s amazing. I love these clothes,” she exclaimed with wide, excited eyes.

A feeling of satisfaction pulled a smile to my lips. I didn’t know what I was winning, but it felt good. “What about you?” I asked to be polite.

“I’m an elementary school teacher.”

I snorted and though “Of course you are.” What I said was a neutral, “That sounds nice.”

Jameson’s eyes flicked to mine in the rearview mirror, like he was warning me to be nice. I just leaned my head back and closed my eyes. My insides were doing crazy things I didn’t understand in my drunken state, and I just wanted to sleep. I didn’t want to delve too deeply into why I was so bothered by this perfect girl Jameson was on a date with. I didn’t want to think about why I felt uncomfortable being the only person who didn’t have a partner tonight.

I tried to remind myself that I had myself, and my job, and all the freedom I could ask for. So what if I thought Jameson would be the last hold-out with me, and we would stick together in our solitude. So what that he was apparently looking to settle down and had Miss Perfect sitting in the front seat with him.

I was irritated with my thoughts. I was irritated with Jameson for bringing his date and rubbing her in my face. Okay, so he didn’t rub her in my face, but it sure as hell felt like it. And it was making me angry because of the emotions it was stirring up.

Would he stop rising to all my challenges? Would he stop finding it funny when I messed with him? If he paired off, how much would things change? He looked at me in the rearview mirror again and I rolled my eyes, feeling disgusted by myself.

When the car pulled to a stop, I tossed a quick “nice to meet you” before getting out and slamming the door behind me, letting some of my built-up aggression release.

My heels clicked on the sidewalk leading to my condo in the dark night. Another car door slammed and I looked back to see Jameson following me up the sidewalk.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he growled when we reached my front door. The porch light barely illuminated him, and half his face was cast in shadow, making his anger more prominent. “A thank you would have been nice.”

“You want me to thank you for interrupting your perfect date?” I asked with sarcasm. I didn’t need to answer to him; I answered to no one.

“What the hell crawled up your ass tonight?” he asked again, angrier than the first time.

I didn’t know how to answer him because I wasn’t sure why I was acting like such a bitch, but he didn’t look like he was backing down without an explanation. I paced my small stoop trying to find the words to give him. I stopped, whipping around with the first question that came to mind. “Am I going to have to stop messing around with you now that she’s around?” His face twisted in confusion. I didn’t blame him. I was drunk and not making sense. But I had let my thoughts loose and there was no stopping them. I strutted closer to him. “Am I going to have to stop torturing you with my tits bouncing in your face? Stop walking around with my long legs always out while you imagine them spread and wrapped around you?” I threw the words from the storage closet back in his face.

The muscles in his jaw twitched from the tight clenching in his jaw. “You’re drunk,” he accused, trying to explain away my actions.

He was right. I was drunk, and I was just as confused and frustrated as he was by my attitude. But I refused to back down. I needed some comfort in the familiar tonight. So I would find it in teasing him.

“C’mon, Jamie-Boy,” I taunted, stepping back into his space. “Will she be mad if we play our games?” I reached up, placing my hands on his hips. “Would she be mad if I continue our game of sexual chicken?” I teased. His hands gripped my wrists and pulled them between us, locking me in place.

My heart stuttered in my chest when I saw him lean down in my space, eyes blazing with anger. “You know what your problem is, Evelyn?” The anger was roaring off of him in waves. “You want to fuck me. But that’s all you want, and you know I won’t accept just a quick fuck. But god-fucking-forbid I find someone else to be with. Someone who isn’t just a casual fuck.” His words pierced me like bullets. We had always danced around the subject of our attraction. It was there, we both knew it, but neither of us had ever talked so openly about it. He leaned in, his mouth at my ear. “You know what you are? Fucking jealous.”

I wrenched my hands out of his grasp and stepped back, raising my chin. I was not jealous. But all I mustered was a low, “I am not.”

Real strong, Evelyn. Way to prove a point.

“Think what you want. But just because you like to fuck around and don’t give a shit about who you’re dating,” he said with a sneer, letting me know what he really thought about my dates, “doesn’t mean I don’t respect the women I give my time to. So don’t fucking touch me right now.”

He took the two steps down off my patio, glaring at me over his shoulder, making me feel about two feet tall. Jameson and I bickered and fought like siblings, but we had never been intentionally mean to each other. He was being intentional with his words.

“Have some respect and get your shit together, Evelyn, or you will be alone forever.” He turned to walk back to the car, but delivered one last parting blow. “Just because you want to whore around forever, doesn’t mean we all want to.”

I stood still, shock reverberating through my body from the blow he’d just landed with his words. Rage boiled up in me that he’d talked to me like that. But when it mixed with the drunkenness, all that came out was a screeching, “Well, fuck you, Jameson King!”

He didn’t turn back, and I made sure he heard the slam of my door as my last weak parting shot.

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