“Why don’t you, then?” Rowe asked sleepily.
Because I’m full of shit and he’s too happy and in love to ever look twice at me again. Because I never really had him in the first place, he was just bored and needed a warm body and I was there. Because I can’t get you, either, and right now with how low I feel because of that I probably couldn’t get anyone.
I snorted haughtily. “I could do so much better,” I said. “I don’t need to lower myself to the level of sleeping with the trash at this hotel. He was alright to slum it with until he started giving himself airs and graces, thinking he was so much better than me. That’s where I draw the line. And I don’t need a boyfriend, either, so stop trying to act like you care what I do.”
Rowe didn’t answer.
My own voice bit into my ears long after it had faded away, the memory of what I had said playing over and over in my mind.I don’t need a boyfriend, I don’t need a boyfriend, I don’t need a boyfriend.
The one thing I wanted in the world more than anything else was a boyfriend.
There was a soft sound behind me and a weight closer to my back. I thought for a second that Rowe had shifted closer to me, that he wanted to talk more – or maybe my false confidence had won me over and he wanted to try and change my mind about the boyfriend thing.
I reached a curious hand behind myself, then rolled slightly so I could look over my shoulder. My eyes had adjusted enough to the dark to see Rowe way over on the other side of the bed, as far from me as he could get, his eyes closed.
And between us, like a barrier so I couldn’t even try to touch him by accident, a pillow.
I closed my eyes and faced the other wall, willing the hot liquid that wanted to spill from my eyelids to stay where it was. I put a hand against my chest and felt my heart still beating, steady and strong. If I hadn’t felt that beat myself I might have questioned whether it was working at all, because the pain in my chest was so strong that it couldn’t possibly be real.
I fell asleep wondering whether I was praying for the morning to come so we could get this over with – or for the night never to end, so I never had to face Rowe again.
Rowe
I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and sighed.
I looked good. The suit had survived the dinner of last night without a single stain or mark on it, and although it had a few extra wrinkles, I’d hung it on the door while I showered. The steam had done a nice job of keeping it fresh. The pale blue shirt I’d brought for this second variation on the outfit looked good against my skin.
The only thing I had to worry about now was my date.
Xavi was arrogant, vindictive, and had almost no regard at all for others so long as he was having fun. But I’d seen deeper than that, yesterday. He was also hurt and hurting, hiding away what he really felt somewhere deep inside where he thought he was safe. He was anxious for approval and he wasn’t used to getting it, and I had seen in his eyes that he wasn’t as unaffected by everything as he pretended to be.
Still, the upshot of it all was that the arrogant, vindictive, selfish Xavi was the one I had to stand next to all day long.
Only one day. Get through the wedding, spend the night at the hotel, and then I could try to make an excuse to leave early on Sunday. Maybe I could still get to the hospital for Daisy if it worked.
And even if it didn’t, by the end of Sunday I would be a free man with two thousand dollars in my pocket.
I nodded at myself and straightened up, running a hand back through my hair to check it was all in place. I didn’t know why I was trying so hard to look good. Everyone at this wedding would be off-limits because they would think I was dating Xavi. And as for Xavi himself…
My mind lingered on last night, on the kiss that didn’t happen. I’d been so tempted to give in. But I didn’t want to kiss Xavi when he was drunk – not when I wasn’t sure if he only wanted to because of the alcohol. He’d already told me his friends thought he was a slut. Maybe he was. I didn’t know.
But if he slept with anyone who looked at him twice, then that was a pretty good reason for me to keep this strictly business.
I stepped out into the bedroom and forced myself to smile, grabbing my cane from beside the bed. “Are you ready?” I asked.
Xavi turned from sitting on the side of the bed and then stood up when he saw that I was done. He was wearing a whole new suit today: dark material tailored more closely to his body with a white shirt and a black tie, though he’d left the top button of his shirt undone. On someone else, it would have looked rakish, but Xavi looked messy. It didn’t have to be in a bad way, but knowing how he was, it made my fingers itch to go over there and do that button up for him.
“We should get down there,” Xavi said. He took a shaky breath and I realized he was nervous. “We’ve only got twenty minutes until the ceremony. Considering we slept right above it, being late might not be a good look.”
“I’m surprised you don’t want to be fashionably late all the same,” I said, giving him what was supposed to be a teasing smile. I was well aware of the timing myself, but I hadn’t expected him to be.
He looked down at the carpet. “I don’t want to mess up their special day,” he said, in a voice so choked with pain that I regretted my joke immediately.
I stepped up in front of him – closing the distance by only a small margin, given how tight the space in this room was. I reached up, letting my cane dangle from my wrist on its strap, and took hold of that button before I could think better of it. “You’re not going to mess up their day,” he said. “They’re your friends. They want you there, and they know you. If they really had a problem with who you are, you wouldn’t have been invited.” I did up the button, brushing my hands across his shoulders and the top of his arms to make sure all the fabric was settled in the right place before stepping away.
Xavi seemed tongue-tied. The fabric of his suit was much nicer than I’d been expecting; it was a good suit, the kind that didn’t come cheap. Like mine. I looked down at my hands and then at myself, busying myself with getting my cane back into my hand and then starting for the door so I didn’t have to say anything else.
How did Xavi manage to go out all the time partying, own at least two suits that looked more expensive than anything I would ever dream of, and yet still have enough money left over to pay me two thousand dollars – after paying for the hotel room and everything else? If he really was borrowing money from a relative, he must have owed them a lot by now.
