“And if you hadn’t teased me, I wouldn’t be in this position,” I say, frantic. “If I still can’t satiate this, I’m going to have to spend my afternoon traipsing around Philly for a guy wanting an afternoon quickie. Thanks a lot.”
Lo grimaces and drops his hands to his side. “Well now I’m stuck going to your family’s lunch, so I guess we’re even.” He turns his body, letting me through.
“Don’t come in,” I warn him again, my eyes bugging. I’m more afraid of what I’ll do to him if he does.
“I never do,” he reminds me. With this, he heads to the kitchen and waves tersely, downing the rest of his whiskey.
After my second shower and self-medication in the form of porn stars and an expensive vibrator, I tug on actual clothes: a pair of jeans and a maroon V-neck.
Lo sits in the living room, eating pizza and flipping through channels. A new glass of whiskey balances on his leg.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize quickly.
His eyes briefly flicker to me before returning to the television. “For what?”
Sticking your fingers in me.“For getting you involved in Sunday’s luncheon.” I uncertainly take a seat in a red recliner opposite the couch.
He watches me like he always does, assessing my current state. He swallows his bite of pizza. “Honestly, I don’t mind going.” He wipes his fingers on a napkin and picks up his glass. “Better your father than mine.”
I nod. So true. “So…are we okay?”
“Areyou?” His eyebrows rise.
“Mmm-hmm,” I mumble and avoid eye contact by grabbing a slice of pizza and scurrying back to the safety of my chair. Safe distance, check.
“I’ll take that as aweakyes,considering you can’t so much as look at me right now.”
“It’s not you; it’s me,” I say through a mouthful, licking sauce off my finger.
“Again, what every guy loves to hear.” I can feel his eyes grazing my body. “I’m not even coming on to you right now.”
“Don’t even start,” I warn, holding up a finger. “I swear, Lo.”
“Okay, okay.” He sighs. “You’re going to The Blue Room tonight, aren’t you?”
I jerk back in shock. “How’d you know?”
He looks at me likeseriously. “You rarely go to the same club more than three or four times. For a while, I thought we were going to have to move one city over so you could find a place to…” He pauses, trying to find the words. “…fuck.” He flashes that bitter smile.
“Very funny.” I pick a pepperoni off the cheese. “Do you need a sober driver tonight? I can drop you off somewhere before I leave.” I have no problem shooing away beer and hard liquor.
“No, I’m going to the club with you.”
I hold in my surprise. He only ventures out with me on selective nights, and they vary too often for me to make sense of them. “You want to go to The Blue Room? You do realize this is a dance club and not some smoky hole-in-the-wall bar?”
He shoots me another look. “I’m well aware.” He swishes the ice cubes around in his glass, staring at the liquid. “Anyway, it’ll keep us from staying out too late and missing tomorrow’s luncheon.”
He has a point.
“You’re not going to care if I…” I can’t even finish the thought.
“If you leave me to go bang some guy?” he says, kicking his feet on the coffee table beside the pizza.
I open my mouth but lose my thoughts again.
“No, Lil,” he says, “I won’t get in the way of what you want.”
Sometimes I wonder about his desires. Maybe he does want to be with me. Or maybe he’s still pretending.
