“There’s something you should know about me,” I told him, bracing myself against the countertop as I pinned his gaze. “I hate mysteries and you’ve set yourself up as one big question since walking into my bar. I will figure you out, whether it’s now or later, but it will happen.”
He barked a derisive laugh. “Oh, really? And why would you want to figure me out?”
“I don’t know,” I answered but that wasn’t entirely true, I was just embarrassed to admit the truth because it seemed ludicrous. “I just want to.”
But damn Gage for being too perceptive. “Are you saying you’ve caught feelings?” he mocked, causing my cheeks to flush. “You wouldn’t even have a drink with me until I paid you. That’s not exactly a glowing endorsement for true emotion.”
“I wouldn’t have a drink with anyone because I was still hating myself over what’d happened with Landon. I would’ve turned down Channing Tatum.”
But Gage didn’t believe me. I guess I could understand his point. The money had been the catalyst and I couldn’t deny it.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, waving away my explanation. “I’m not in the market for a girlfriend so let’s drop it.”
I wasn’t going to let it go. “Just tell me…why me?”
Irritation sharpened his voice. “Because I liked your ass. I already told you that.” I might’ve bought his excuse before, but not now. When I held his gaze, daring him to cling to the lie, he growled, “What the fuck is this? I don’t have to explain my reasons. I wanted to fuck you. It’s nothing deeper than that. Leave it, Mari.”
“I know you’re not telling me something,” I pressed, following him. “Are you afraid that I won’t understand? Give me a chance, Gage. I’ve been hurt, too. I’m willing to listen.”
His cold smirk cut me. “Baby, don’t flatter yourself. I’ve had better therapists than you try to dig into this head and failed. I’m not in a sharing mood, okay? Get your stuff together, the driver will be here in a half-hour.”
And just like that, an iron curtain slammed down between us.
Maybe I should be grateful. Why was I pushing so hard for answers that I probably wouldn’t like?
What if he was telling the truth and he really did pick me up on a whim because he liked my ass?
I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat, hating how cheap and disposable Gage had made me feel.
Everything about Gage raised questions but the one thing that was solid was the way I felt when wrapped around him.
I wasn’t the kind of person to spout love poetry or go on meme hunts for sappy love quotes but he created those feelings in me as if he’d simply been the key needed to unlock the warm and fuzzies.
Did I want that? Did I want to open myself to someone like Gage with the way he was acting?
God no.
Maybe this was a blessing. Just go home, forget this ever happened. Focus on putting your life back together.
Was that even possible?
I guess I would find out.
13
Home.
It’d only been twenty-four hours and yet everything felt different. My apartment felt like someone else’s, not mine.
Sure, I remembered buying the sofa at a downtown thrift store and lugging it up two flights of stairs with the help of a junkie I’d found to help me in exchange for a few bucks.
And yes, I totally remember picking up my reading chair from the sidewalk when someone had pinned a free sign on it but, it still didn’t feel like mine anymore.
It was kinda like when you move away from home and then returned to your childhood room for a visit and while everything looks the same, it’s somehow not the same.
Maybe it’s because while the room stayed the same, you didn’t.
Had my time with Gage changed me so much? How was it possible?
Miss Switch came trotting over to me, mewling plaintively for food and I scooped her up, grateful for my kitty to grant some semblance of normal in my topsy-turvy life.
After dishing up some food for my prissy kitty, I settled onto the floor beside her to watch her enjoy her feast, while I wondered how I was going to move forward.
Especially when I wasn’t careful, I found myself replaying my short, explosive time with Gage over and over.
Was this how obsessions started? I doubt anyone set out to become obsessed with someone or something. Seemed like a lot of work for very little reward.
So, if I were smart, I’d just wash my hands of the entire experience, chalk it up to a weird sexual adventure, and move on.
I had the freedom to relax, thanks to the healthy number of zeroes in my bank account so I should be spending less time moping and more time planning my next move.
But the weird thing was…as much as I should’ve been delighted by the money…I wasn’t.
I kept hearing Gage’s comment about him having to pay me before I would accept a drink with him.
It was true and I hated that the money had motivated me.
I liked to think I was above such petty bullshit but if I’d learned anything, it was that desperation had a tendency to weaken previously held ideals.
If I’d known that Gage was actually pretty cool to hang out with, I would’ve accepted the offer of a drink the first time he asked.
Maybe that would’ve changed things between us. Maybe he would’ve trusted that I’m not a gold-digger, just looking to get paid.
Even I knew it was an uphill battle to convince someone of something different when you were actually guilty of their first impression.
First impressions were a bitch, yo.
“Well, he shouldn’t have made the offer if he was just going to use it against me later,” I told Miss Switch, sliding my hand down her silky fur, her booty bouncing up in response. I chuckled, adding, “Yeah, that’s what I looked like, too, when Gage did his thing.”
Did it matter that Gage had secrets he didn’t want to share? I supposed not.
I tried to hold onto that truth but another voice was screaming the opposite, it does matter!
Because it mattered to me.
Climbing to my feet, I went in search of my high school yearbook.
I vaguely remembered a Donnelly — we didn’t hang in the same circles but it was a small enough school that the name struck a bell — and I wanted to see if there was any resemblance to the Donnelly I went to school with and Gage.
I know, total long shot, but I had to do something.
I found my yearbook, dusted it off, and flipped through the pages. Ahh, nostalgia. I lost myself for a few minutes in memories, chuckling at some of the ridiculous statements made by kids who hadn’t had a clue what life had in store for them, and finally found the Donnelly kid.
Dustin Donnelly, a freshman when I was a senior, so definitely not in my peer group.
Dark hair, similar to Gage, but really that was a stretch, right?
I chewed my lip, wondering. I flipped to the index where the index of students featured on which pages were listed. Dustin Donnelly was only listed once and that was the class page.
True, he’d been a freshman and the yearbook staff tended to cater to the upper classmen for candids but he wasn’t listed on any sports or clubs sections either.
Maybe he was a loner.
But judging by the bright smile in his picture, I didn’t buy it. Kids with social issues didn’t tend to ham it up for the camera.
And this kid…he was definitely grinning like the Cheshire cat.
Great. I closed the yearbook. Another mystery.
I hesitated before grabbing my phone. Tara might’ve known Dustin Donnelly but the last time we spoke, well, it hadn’t been a Hallmark moment.
My sister and I were polar opposites. She was the brainy one — the one most likely to make decisions based on logic and reason — and definitely not likely to sell her vagina to make rent.
Okay, so…maybe I won’t mention that little fact.
I might have to preface the conversation wit
h an apology.
I might’ve called her a stuck-up twat with an ass so tight she could go into the diamond business if her accountant husband dumped her and she needed cash.
Yeah, not my finest moment.
I shouldn’t have said it. Plain and simple. If it counts for anything, I felt bad and I’d planned to call to apologize but then the whole Landon thing happened and I wasn’t about to admit that I’d been so grievously fucked over by my boyfriend.
Especially when…Tara hadn’t been a fan of Landon and had warned me that he’d seemed shady.