I pause at the corner, realizing that this is the first time I’ve contemplated ending my relationship with Nicolette. Everything in my life was going perfectly fine until I met Margeaux. I just need to get my mind back on what matters most to me. Onwhomatters most to me.
I round the corner, grateful the hospital is a short walk from this condominium, only to bump into someone, smashing their cup of still-hot coffee between us.
“Ah! Shit!”
“Fuck! Fuck! Look where you’re going, asshole!”
Still looking down at my coffee-stained shirt and pants, and making sure the hot liquid doesn’t scold me, I snap back at the rude woman, “Maybe if you weren’t storming around street corners with extra hot coffee, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“J-Jon?” Her voice suddenly registers in my ears and the heat from the coffee is nothing in comparison to the warmth that floods my chest…and my dick.
Paralyzed, unable to speak, I let my eyes drink her in. Her tall frame, which is highlighted with her laced up, black combat boots. Her tight, black jeans fit her shapely, muscular legs so perfectly, and her white tank top shows off the lacy top of her deep purple bra. Her tattooed arms are on full display. The small stud pierced above her upper lip is like a bullseye. Her dark hair is pulled over one shoulder, showing me the curve of her neck, and the small beads of sweat dotting around her collarbone.
“Done undressing me with your eyes, Doc?”
“What?! No!” I scramble in place, trying to right myself and fixatemy eyesanywherebut on her. A crack in the sidewalk. The apple tree right next to us. “I wasn’t.”
“Mmhm. I need a cigarette for how hard you just eye-fucked me,” she teases, releasing a light chuckle at my expense.
I roll my eyes, and silently curse the universe for over-complicating my life.
16
MARGEAUX
I havemany reasons for not wanting to be in Paramount right now.
Fuck Dr. Jon. He doesn’t get to act like I came in like a tornado and ripped him out of his boring life and gave him a taste of technicolor that he now regrets. It would be so much easier to be angry with him if his lips weren’t naturally pouty and slick from him licking them because he keeps checking me out. A girl’s allowed to be flattered. Right?
“What are you doing here, Margeaux?” His tone is an adorable mixture of annoyed and something else. Not panicked. Flustered, maybe?
Is it bad that I think he gets cuter the angrier he seems? His dark brows get closer together and his cheeks get a little darker from his flush.
“Earth to Margeaux!” He snaps his fingers quickly beside my face, pulling me out of whatever trance he had me in.
“You mean you didn’t hear, Doc?” I ask. “I have to make a public apology to that douchebag, Brice Dickless,” I spit on the pristine sidewalk. Saying that asshole’s name—or a version of it—makes me feel like puking.
“Oh. Yea. I did hear that. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to gothrough all this.” And there is the sweet Jon I’m used to. He doesn’t have a bad bone in his body. I mean, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if he had justonebad bone.
Neither of us says anything, just awkward shrugs and head scratches.
“Well, I gotta get to work,” Jon says, nudging his head behind me, towards the hospital.
“Uh, yea. I gotta go, too.” We start to walk our separate ways. “Hey, Jon?” He stops immediately, turns and gives me those cute, brown eyes that have my knees melting. “Uh, would you maybe wanna grab fries with me at that food truck? Those were the only good thing in this city.”
His eyes droop just a bit. Was he hoping I admitted thathewas a good thing, too? Sorry to burst your bubble, Doc. I don’t forgive that easily. But he’s got a weekend to try and make things better between us, if he’s willing to take the bait I’m waving in front of his face.
“Y-yea. That would be nice. I go there most days for lunch, anyway. Is a later lunch okay? Like, around three?”
Hook. Line. And sinker.
“Yea. I don’t have my public showing until tomorrow morning. So, may as well have one good meal while I’m here, right?” Am I fucking giggling? Like an overeager schoolgirl? Lock it up, Marg.
Jon’s eyes soften and he gives me a matching smile. “See you then.”
It’s just fries!
I’ve changed into three different pairs of leggings for this date. Is it even a date? We’re two people, who are sexually attracted to each other, meeting at a specified time to talk and have French fries.It’s a fucking date.
