“It’s not like you don’t fuck with me,” she shoots back.
“Please. Enlighten me.”
“The other night in the hot tub? Dropping your towel last night?” She shakes her head. “You’re not so innocent.”
“But my intentions have never changed,” I say, tapping the table once. “I’ve been clear from the very beginning about what I want. And it’s always the same damn thing.”
Her gaze shifts away.
I wait.
She doesn’t look back.
I say it anyway. “You, Jordan. It’s always been you.”
She turns to me then. “Do you want me,” she asks coolly, “or do you just love the idea of me?”
“What are you talking about?”
She shrugs. “Sometimes I wonder if you just like this part.” She gestures vaguely between us. “The flirting. The banter. When it’s easy. When it’s fun.”
“For Christ’s sake,” I mutter. “Are you still looking for reasons not to be with me? Because it’s getting really fucking old.” I lean in again. “When are you going to stop listening to all the noise outside of you and me and just let yourself be happy? Take what you want for once in your damn life.”
She lifts her chin. “And what is it that I want, Matt?” she asks,hand in the air. “To fuck you?” She continues before I can answer. “Sure. There. You got me. Yes, I wanted to fuck you.” She lets out a humorless laugh. “I haven’t had sex in months. I’m dying to be touched. I need to be cuddled. I’m starved for affection.”
Her words come fast now, tumbling out, raw and truthful. “So, yeah. I drank whiskey so that this morning I could wake up completely satisfied from you fucking my brains out and have something to blame it on.” She looks at me, fury blazing behind her shades. “But you had to go and grow a conscience overnight and ruin that for me.” She exhales sharply. “There. You happy?”
Christ. Finally.
There it is. The truth.
I let the silence settle before I answer.
“I wouldn’t say that makes me happy,” I say softly. “But it’s the first honest thing you’ve said all morning.”
“Well,” she says flatly, “it’s like you said last night. I had too much whiskey.”
Our server arrives, setting my coffee down between us. “Are you ready to order?” she asks.
We both hesitate. I haven’t even looked at the menu.
“I’ll just have a croissant,” Jordan says.
“I’ll have the same,” I add, mostly so the server will leave.
She walks off, and I turn my attention back to Jordan immediately.
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
She sighs. “Sure.”
“Why do you feel you need to be drunk to sleep with me?”
“Jesus,” she mutters under her breath. “Are we still talking about this?”
A quiet chuckle slips out of me. She’s a fucking firecracker today. Sensitive. Feisty.
“You know what I think?” I ask, half to push, half because I need to say it.
