"I can't." She's typing something on her phone now, not looking at me. "I have to be at the senior center at seven tomorrow morning. I promised Dorothy I'd bring her thosespecific pastries she likes from the bakery on the corner. You know how elderly people get if you're late or forget."
I stare at her in complete disbelief. "You want to go home? Right now."
"Well, yes. I need to get home, shower, sleep." She looks up from her phone finally. "Why? Did you want me to go home with you?"
"Yes," I say, incredulous. "Obviously yes. We just—in my car—and now you want to go home?"
"Oh! Sorry. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?" She tilts her head like she doesn't understand. "I just figured we both got what we needed, and I have that early morning commitment, so..."
"Liana." I'm trying desperately to process this. "You tracked me down at a poker game. Interrupted important business. Sat in my lap. And now you're just going home like it meant nothing?"
"Yes?" She says it like a question, like she doesn't understand why this is confusing. "Is that weird? I thought this was normal."
"Yes! That's extremely weird! None of this is normal!"
"Why?" She's completely calm, infuriatingly composed. "We're both adults. We both clearly wanted this. Now I have to go home and sleep. What's weird about that?"
"Everything," I say, running my hand through my disheveled hair. "Everything about this entire situation is weird."
"Well, I had fun." She leans over and kisses my cheek—quick and casual and dismissive. "Thanks for... you know. This."
Thanks for this. Like I'm some service she just used.
"You're thanking me," I repeat in disbelief.
"Is that wrong?" She's already opening the car door. "Sorry, I'm not great at this whole casual thing. Was I supposed to say something else?"
Casual. She thinks this was casual sex.
“Would you mind dropping me off at home?” she asks.
“No, of course not.” I start the car and pull back onto the road.
The silence stretches, thick and impossible. My hands are still shaking from touching her, from having her. She’s staring out the window like none of it happened—like I imagined every sound she made, every breath against my neck.
I want to ask what changed in the span of a heartbeat, but I already know she’ll make it sound simple.
When I pull up in front of her home, I open my car door to help her out. By the time I make it around the back of the car, she’s already out and hurrying toward the front door.
“Liana, wait—”
"Text me tomorrow!" she calls back over her shoulder. "We should figure out dinner plans for next week!"
Then she's gone, already slipping inside.
I sit in my car. Alone. Shirt unbuttoned.
What the fuck was that?
She tracked me down using a GPS device she secretly planted on my car. Showed up half-naked at a dangerous poker game. Sat in my lap in front of violent criminals. Let me fuck her in the car.
And then walked away like it was absolutely nothing.
I'm confused beyond belief.
And still wanting her even though she just walked away from me.
I lean my head back against the leather seat, closing my eyes.
