All the adjectives that come to mind.
“Wow, Lia,” he says, taking me in and pulling on the back of his neck. “Shit, you look really good.”
I’m snapped back into reality as I glance down at my dress and black high heels and then back up at him. “Oh, thank you. I, uh, I thought I would match the fanciness of my ring.” I hold it out to show him as if he hasn’t seen it before. “See? Fancy. And I’m fancy. We’re all fancy.”
His brow creases. “You okay?”
“Yes, great. Thank you. Just telling you I’m fancy.”
He chuckles. “All right, well, glad we established that.” He holds his arm out for me. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah, of course. So ready. Never been more ready. Just the most ready, so let’s get this show on the road.”
“You’re being weird,” he says as I lock up and then walk arm in arm with him toward the elevator.
Maybe because you look really good.
And smell nice.
And have a sense of suave circling you that I wasn’t prepared tosee.
“No, I’m not. Can’t a friend just tell another friend how fancy they feel? Is that a crime?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but I can google it if you want me to.”
I take a deep breath and step onto the elevator with him. His cologne’s so heavy that it makes me feel dizzy in an odd, perplexing way.
I’ve never seen him like this because he’s always been secretive about who he takes out, how he dates, and everything about his sexual life. Whenever I’ve asked before, he’s been blasé about it, not diving too deep, never showing emotion or interest in the topic. But seeing him like this, it’s all so different.
“Why have you always been secretive?” I nearly shout.
“Err, what?” he asks, letting go of my arm and facing me as we descend to the main lobby of our apartment complex.
“With dating, you’ve never talked about it. You’ve never told me anything about the women you see. Why is that?”
“Where is this coming from?” he asks as the elevator doors part. Breaker’s car is waiting out front, the valet with key in hand.
I motion to his suit. “This is . . . this is not the Breaker I’m used to. I don’t see you dress like this, all suave and, you know . . . handsome.” I gulp.
And that stupid smirk of his appears as he says, “Yeah, well, I never see you like this either.” He motions to me and says, “All dressed up and . . . beautiful. Normally, I hang out with the troll lady who lives next door and has a penchant for eating green olives straight from the jar.”
My eyes widen, and I push him to the side, causing him to laugh. “I’m not a troll lady.” Now the part about the olives, that’s true.
“Your matted hair the other day told me otherwise.” He tips the valet and then opens the door for me, but when I get in, he doesn’t shut the door right away. He rests his hands on the roof and says, “I don’t talk about it much because there isn’t much to talk about. And I’m not the type of guy who runs around to his friends, telling them about the pussy I scored the night before. But if you so desire, I can start doing that.”
“Do you score a lot?”
“More than you’re probably aware, but since you’re curious, I’ve gone through a bit of a drought as of recently. Just haven’t had time. I think the last woman I was with, if you must know, is your friend Charise, the one you hooked me up with for Huxley’s wedding.”
“Wait, seriously?” I ask. “You hooked up with Charise?”
“A few times.” He winks and then shuts the door on me, leaving me in a state of bewilderment.
When he climbs into his side of the car, I ask, “A few times? Like . . . more than once?”
“That’s usually what a few times means.” He puts the car in drive and pulls away from the apartment building.
“But she never said anything to me. You never said anything to me. How am I supposed to know you’re hooking up with my friend? Did anything come of it?”
