“I’ve got eyes in my head.”
“I think you like me,” he singsongs.
“Get over yourself. You are objectively attractive, is all I’m saying. That doesn’t mean I want to fall into bed with you.” That would be a very, very bad idea. Although I’m sure it would have its positive side. Which I’m determined never to experience.
“Hmmm. We’ll see.” His wolfish expression, as much as his words, touches a match to the long-dead fuse running from my brain to the now-damp flesh between my legs. I squirmuncomfortably in my seat. I can’t let him see he’s affected me. Because no.
“We won’t see. This is a fake dating situation. Fake being the operative word.” If I say it often enough, maybe my hormones will get the message.
“Hmmm. We’ll see about that too,” he says with a smug smile.
I snort, putting an elegant end to the conversation.
A strange awareness lingers for the rest of the drive home. After his comment about seeing if this was a fake dating situation, I fully expect Ant to at least attempt a kiss when we arrive back at my place.
We climb out of the car, and he rounds the boot, trapping me in the narrow space between the vehicle and the garage wall. My pulse picks up in anticipation. I had begun to think my libido was irreparably broken. Like someone had jacked it up on bricks and stolen the wheels. But in that moment, the engine roars to life, and I can smell burning rubber as tyres skid and it takes off.
“Thanks for driving.” His voice is a low rumble, his tone more appropriate to ‘thanks for the orgasm’ than a thank you for the lift. My cheeks burn, and there’s another throb between my legs. For several heartbeats, his gaze stays locked on mine. His warm breath touches me. The heat from his chest touches me. The smell of his cologne touches me. But his hands remain at his sides.
He’s going to kiss me. I’m sure he’s going to kiss me. My lips part in anticipation. My body sways towards him.
Then he shakes himself, and with a jaunty wave, saunters down the short driveway.
And I’m left frozen beside the car.
What just happened? I could have sworn … Not that I wanted him to kiss me, of course. That’s the last thing I need. Annoyance at myself bubbles up, along with a twisted vine of embarrassment and relief. And confusion. Too many uncomfortable feelings.
Maybe Ant just likes to play games. It’s not his fault that I’ve never learnt the rules.
Shaking off my bewilderment, I step out of the garage as Ant swings his leg over the massive motorcycle he arrived on and kicks the engine into a low rumble.
I know nothing about motorcycles, but this one is big and black and silver, and although it’s clearly modern, it has a vintage vibe about it.
I try not to notice the way the denim of his jeans stretches tight over his thighs as he balances. Or the way the black leather of the jacket he pulls on hugs his chest. But I’m only human.
There’s no denying the sense of disappointment I feel as he roars off down the road.
After a quick shower, I slide into bed, only to toss and turn for what feels like half the night, although when I check my phone, it’s only been half an hour.
I’m about to put my phone back down when a text appears.
Ant:Just wanted to let you know the love of your life arrived home safe and sound
I probably shouldn’t be, but I’m surprised by his flirting after he left me hanging in the garage. Regardless, I try and respond in kind. He’s met my parents, it’s too late to change course now.
Me:Haha. Thanks again for your patience tonight. I’m sure you had better things to do with your Sunday night
Ant:Than spend it with you? Nope
Me:That’s a very polite lie, but I appreciate it
Ant:Are you in bed?
Me:Yes
Ant:What are you wearing?
Me:Seriously? You’re incorrigible
