“What? Why?”
I take a few steps away from her, closer to the door. “It’s better that way.”
“What is?”
I’m not even sure, so I don’t answer. Instead, I let my earlier rancor take over again. “When you’re out there, spending the evening with your ex, remember who’s the reason for that tingling sensation between your legs.”
She looks properly appalled, her jaw dropping with indignation. “Are you serious right now? Is that what this was about?”
“I don’t know what it was about, Gen. But don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.” When I put my hand over the knob and unlock the door, she protests again.
“Wait, Jake!” she calls. But it isn’t to hold me back this time. “My underwear.”
I shove my hand in my pocket, grazing at the humid lace. “Number thirteen,” I say.
Drive your partner crazy by giving them a special present during an outing.
“I’m only here to help with that list after all, am I not?” I remind her. “I’ll see you on Tuesday, Gen.” She still hasn’t answered by the time I exit the restroom.
As I walk back to the gallery, I can still sense her everywhere. In my ears, my mouth, my nose… Even on my hand, my fingers are still wet with the remnants of her climax.
When I spot her fucking ex, irrational jealousy strikes me again. What I do next, I blame on the insanity caused by blue balls.
“Edward, mate,” I call out when I approach him. With my left hand on his shoulder, I offer the right one to shake his. Because he’s with people, he doesn’t leave me hanging and returns the gesture. I squeeze it harder than I need to, doing the same to his shoulder. “It was great seeing you again,” I continue. “Take care, yeah?”
He nods, wholly disoriented by my friendliness, and I let go of him. The clueless cunt will probably think I had clammy hands, never realizing that this, the moistness I left on him, it’s his fucking ex-girlfriend—the woman he’ll spend the evening with—coming all over my hand minutes prior.
And he’s such a daft prick that he probably won’t even recognize the smell despite spending five fucking years with its origin. He didn’t deserve her, and I hope she’ll see that.
I don’t look for Eli or Hana because I’m not lingering here for another minute. Instead, I ask for my helmet from the woman in charge of coats and shit. I walk out into the night as soon as I have it.
Five times. I’ve seen this woman five times, and she’s already fucked me up more than anyone ever has. Keeping up with this, seeing her again and again, might not be the smartest thing to do.
The problem is that I’m not sure I can stop.
Chapter Eighteen
Gen
What happened at the gallery remainsetched in the back of my mind for the following days. I can’t get over it or figure out what I should do about it.
After what happened in the restroom, I returned to Eddie, only to let him know I had to leave, pretending I had a headache. Hana was over it too, so we headed back to our respective homes, sharing a cab. As suspected, she’s now a fervent Jake defender. Which I can’t blame her for because he’s the most charismatic person I’ve ever met. But as handsome, humorous, and charming as he is, he’s only a fun time, the kind of person to fool around with for a bit and move on.
He himself made it very clear that he wasn’t into relationships. Jake is in this for the sex, just like me, and I don’t understand why everything suddenly got so complicated. It’s supposed to be a mindless, no-strings-attached pastime, and I don’t get why it derailed.
But now, Jake isn’t texting me, I’m too scared to reach out, and I have no idea if our arrangement still stands. He did say we’d meet on Tuesday, but what if he digested everything and decided I wasn’t worth the hassle?
And as if things weren’t complicated enough, Eddie is slowly trying to creep back into my life. Thankfully, it’s just good morning messages for now and the occasional, “Hey, what’s up?” He hasn’t suggested that we meet somewhere, and I dread the day he might. It’s too early for that. I’m not finished with my list and haven’t had my fill of Jacob Clarke. Far from it.
In the meantime, my heart races with every text notification I get, only to squeeze with disappointment when it’s either Hana or Edward.
Ugh, why is this so messy?
I’m still in my NexaCorp office late on Tuesday, fixing mistakes my colleagues left behind or picking up their slack. I’msodone with this position, and I cannot wait to get my boss’s job.
When my phone vibrates on my desk, I know it’ll be Edward asking what I’m eating or whatever excuse he found to text me again. I distractedly check the screen, knowing I won’t answer right away. In an attempt to slow down his advances, I’ve been giving myself a couple of hours to reply to him every time.
But it isn’t Eddie. Nor Hana.
