Shacking Up

That other woman is ten times hotter, but telling Brittany that would be me digging myself a deeper hole. Honesty isn’t always the best choice. I’m in such a bad mood now. “I didn’t get a good look at her.” It’s lame, but I’ve written off any more fun for tonight. In my head, I’m already in the shower, rubbing one out to the image of the woman I did kiss, not the one pouting in the corner.

Besides, Brittany really isn’t my type. She’s pretty, but she wears far too much makeup. In the few seconds I had to get a good look at the woman I made out with in the hall—and recognized the very serious error I’d made—I noticed she’s definitely gorgeous. Dark hair and green eyes, not too petite with curves in all the right places and a natural beauty that makes my nuts ache. And that’s saying something with all the medication I’m on. I’ve only had to rub one out twice this week. I’m that sick.

“Why’re you looking at me like that? I already told you, I’m not coming home with you.” Brittany huffs and glances at her reflection in the mirror, fixing out of place hairs.

I shake my head, coming out of my haze. I must’ve spaced out while she was talking. God, I feel like garbage. “I’m still going to make sure you get home safely.” Despite my frustration over the situation, I’m not going to leave her to find her own ride.

“I know how to hail a cab.”

I give up on talking and mentally review my checklist for the next few days. My suit is already laid out for my morning meeting—this Monday night engagement party isn’t helping me get the sleep I need. I have to be out of the house first thing, and then I need to get on organizing paperwork for my trip. Five weeks overseas is a long time, and I can’t afford to forget essential files. This trip is important. It’s my test to see if I can manage things without my father breathing down my neck.

The elevator dings and Brittany struts past me, flipping her hair over her shoulder, smacking me in the face. I let her walk on ahead. I’ve forgotten to call my driver, so I have to spend a few extra, awkward minutes with a pouting Brittany.

Finally the car comes and Ralph, my driver, exits the vehicle, apologizing for the delay. I’m sure he can tell by the look on my face, and Brittany’s sour expression, that neither of us is excited about having to wait.

I open the door for her and extend a hand, which she ignores.

“We’ll just head to Ms. Thorton’s, ’kay Ralph?” I pat him on the shoulder and he lifts a brow, but remains silent as I slide in beside my annoyed date.

She shifts away from me until she’s in the corner. I lean my head against the backrest and wait, because this can’t be the end of her words. I’m so tired. And then I remember that my mother made me agree to two dates. I’m beginning to wonder if the bachelor auction would have been better than this. My mother will make sure I follow through on my promise. She’s determined to have me settled down since my older brother, Lexington, whose former girlfriend ended things several months ago, has shown no interest in returning to the dating pool, unless it’s for a hookup.

Seven years of being on the road, of constant travel, has made any kind of lasting relationship impossible. I’ve learned that long-distance relationships rarely ever work. When I agreed to come work with my father I assumed I’d finally be able to put down some roots. And with that, I might actually be able to find someone I could have a relationship with. It’s been a long time since I’ve had something stable, or significant. Except now he’s making me travel again and the distance thing just isn’t something I want to contend with.

“I don’t look anything like that slut.”

Brittany pulls me out of my internal musings. “Nope.” Arguing seems pointless. “Although I’m not sure I’d classify her as a slut.”

“Do you know her? Have you gone out with her before? Did you know she was going to be at the party? I can’t believe you’d do that to me in front of all those people!”

I slowly turn my head to look at her. This is an awful lot of drama for a first date. “No, I don’t know her. No, I haven’t gone out with her before. No, I didn’t know she’d be at the party, and what do you mean all those people? We were the only ones in that hallway.”

“She was kissing you back! I saw tongue! Hers! In your mouth.” She points an accusing finger at me. “And yours was in hers.”

This is true. Despite me being a complete stranger, my mystery girl did indeed kiss me back. That’s something to ponder later. “Look Brittany, I already told you, it was a mistake. And I get that she doesn’t look like you, but the hallway was poorly lit. I saw long hair and a dark dress and I reacted. I’ve been sick all week and on cold medication all day. I didn’t want to cancel our date, so I took more than I should’ve tonight. I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth.” I avert my gaze and close my eyes trying not to picture the woman I ended up kissing tonight.

“You’re right, it isn’t an excuse at all. I thought we were having a nice time.” She’s pulling out the whiny voice now. “I hope kissing that skank was worth it.”

It’s a good thing my eyes are closed, otherwise she’d see me roll them.

The car comes to a stop and Ralph buzzes me through the intercom to let us know we’ve arrived. He won’t lower the privacy window or open a door until I buzz him back.

“This is you,” I say.

Brittany makes a pouty face. “Too bad we didn’t have more fun.”

I buzz Ralph to thank him. I may be annoyed by my date, but I still have manners. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

I open the door and step onto the sidewalk to wait for her. She rearranges her skirt and takes my offered hand. As she steps out, she flashes me. She’s not wearing panties, so I get a glimpse of what I’ll be missing out on tonight. I’m sure she’s done this on purpose. I assume it’s to taunt me. Considering my current state, I’m likely to pass out on her at any minute.

Over the years a lot of women have pulled this move on me. It worked the first few times, but it’s a little boring when there’s no chase. It’s always better when I have to work for it.

I walk her to her door and apologize for what happened, again, even though I’m not sure how sorry I really am anymore. Her theatrics are a little much to handle.

Apparently my courteous actions seem to have flipped yet another one of her switches. After she unlocks the door she turns to me, looking me over as she licks her lips. “You know”—she adjusts my tie, which was perfectly straight before she touched it—“if you really wanted to, you could show me how sorry you are.”

As drugged up as I am, I’m almost positive this is a proposition. “Oh? And how would I do that?”

“By coming up for a nightcap.”

I turn my head and cough into the crook in my elbow. I can’t believe she’s still interested after the shitshow tonight has turned out to be.

“I should probably take a raincheck on that, considering I’m not feeling well. I wouldn’t want to make you sick, too.”

“There are other places you can kiss me besides my mouth.”

I have to resist the urge to sit her down and lecture her on self-respect. I can’t believe she’s propositioning me after I kissed someone else, accidentally or not.