“Hi, Matt."
“Gigi?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Oh, hey.”
"Long time no hear or see. I thought I'd call because I haven’t talked to you in a while,” I say awkwardly. “And I’m just wondering why. Are you angry with me? Did I do something?”
“No, I’ve just been really busy at work. You know how it is.”
He doesn’t sound excited at all to hear from me, but he doesn’t sound angry either. He simply sounds indifferent, and that my friends is the kiss of death to any relationship. Matt doesn’t give a shit.
“Yeah, I know.”
There’s a long pause, and then Matt speaks again.
“In fact, I’m about to meet a coworker for a drink in a little while. Can we catch up another time?”
Wow.
“Is this coworker a woman?”
“It’s not like that, Gigi. It’s just… I can’t talk right now. I shouldn’t have even picked up the phone knowing I didn’t have time to chat.”
“Are you seeing someone else?”
“Let’s be honest and admit what we both know. I don’t think that you and I have anything in common, Gigi. It just didn’t work.”
“We were fine a few days ago.”
“Things change.”
“I guess they do,” I try saying without an attitude. It’s hard when you’re being dumped though. My ego’s been bruised. “Well, have a good night, Matt.”
“You as well.”
He ends the call so formally that I know I’ll never hear from him again, which is just as well, because a part of me is relieved.
I can stop pretending.
I try to act casually when Knox unlocks the front door by sitting on the couch (his makeshift bed) and zipping on my favorite brown leather booties.
His mood is darker since he left earlier and his hand is wrapped in a bloody bandage. All kinds of thoughts run through my head about what may or may not have happened between him and Ben, but at least he’s home safe and in one piece.
“You ready?”
His question is low and gritty and it’s crystal clear to me from his tone that this isn’t the time to ask questions about what happened with Ben, so I leave it for later.
“Yes.”
We drive to the lot where the bike is parked and once I see it; I realize that it really is a beautiful machine. Sleek, dark and powerful like Knox. There’s room for two, but I will definitely have to hold on tightly to him. He hands me a helmet and I shove it on top of my head, stuffing the curls in the back.
Knox gets on first, and then I climb up behind him.
“Hold on tighter,” he orders, so I spread my thighs wider and scoot my center closer against his back, wrapping my arms around his waist.
I’m actually kind of glad I didn’t wear the bra. This feels good. And when he starts the bike, the loud rumble of the engine sends a deep vibration through my distressed Abercrombie jeans, forcing the seam to press me right at my core.
