I looked up into his eyes, trying to hide my mischief. “What if I didn’thaveto go?”
He pulled back, searching my face like he was scared to get his hopes up. “Your date?”
I fought back a grin. “He left. Before I came to find you. Told me to have fun.”
Now he was grinning too. “And you let me think I was just getting you primed for someone else?”
I batted my lashes at him. “You didn’t seem to hate the idea. It would’ve been mean to tell you when you were so into it.”
“That so? And now you’re mine for the rest of the night?”
I nodded. “Unless you’re finished with me?”
He kissed my neck, his rumbling voice right by my ear. “Not a chance. You still have to pay for earlier.”
I squealed when he flung me over his shoulder, giggling hysterically as he realized his pants were still unbuckled and they dropped to his ankles. He had to put me down to get them up and then we practically ran out of the party.
His band was staying at an Airbnb nearby, so we walked, holding hands like we were dating.
When we crossed to the other side of the street, he switched sides with me so he would still be on the outside where the cars were. He didn’t make a big thing of it—it was clearly just an automatic thing for him. How low had my bar gotten that it gave me a swoony feeling?
When we passed a work site where a cone with tape attached to it was knocked over and threatening to break the branch of a plant next to it, he picked the cone up without even pausing the story he was in the middle of telling me. Hundreds of people had probably walked past it and either not noticed or not cared. He stopped to pick it up without even noticing he was doing it.
He was so young in the sense that he maintained the childish purity of not caring if you were cool. It was like I was looking at someone who somehow hadn’t been fucked up by the world yet. He’d experienced the grief of losing his dad and must’ve had other hardships in his life, but gave off this vibe like he still thought the world was a fundamentally good place.
The strangest part was that it felt that way when I was with him.
When we got inside the house, things took a dangerous turn. Instead of heading straight for the bedroom, he grabbed a couple of beers and some Oreos and led me out to a patio that had a view of the city.
This is a bad idea.
I repeated it to myself and it had no more effect than it had at the after-party. I knew better than to get involved with a client. But it had been so long since I’d just…had fun.
Fun was what ruined your life. Fun is what took years to get back on track from. Is fun really what you need when you’re this close to making something of yourself?
It’s just sex.
Because sex has never ever gotten you into trouble…
He opened a beer and handed it to me. “Besides tempting helpless musicians before andaftertheir shows…what do you do for fun, Helen?” He looked so young and eager I didn’t want to tell him we should skip the talking and just go straight to his room.
Small talk is okay. I can do small talk. Can I do small talk without accidentally telling a client too much?
Was he even a client right now?
I was spiraling hard.
He leaned close to my ear. “You’re getting in your head again, aren’t you? It doesn’t only happen when my tongue’s on your clit?”
Like he’d lit a match, I wanted him again. I scooted my chair closer and draped my legs over his.
“This is just…unfamiliar territory for me,” I said. “I don’t usually do anything this rash.”
“Hanging out with me is rash?” He looked genuinely confused.
I was being ridiculous. I was here with him already. I might as well enjoy myself. “I like to cook, though I do that for my other job, so these days it isn’t so much what I do for fun. Besides that, I like music and the Lakers.”
He scrunched his nose up when I named my basketball team. “Music, huh? Am I brave enough to ask what you thought?”
