Billionaire's Escort

I left Failte feeling confused and very much like the wind had been taken out of my sails. I’d been practically skipping down the street to get here, thinking that I could finally tell Caroline that it had happened—I was no longer a virgin!—but I had ended up leaving without having said a word of that.

I was still thinking about this as I walked up to my apartment, digging for my keys out of my purse. How was Caroline going to react when I told her—

“Daisy.”

I froze. It was Noah.

“What are you doing?” I said. He was sitting on the front steps of my building; there was no way that I could sneak past him. He stood up and took a step toward me.

“Daisy,” he said, a relieved smile crossing his face. “Daisy, where have you been? Your car was here, but you weren’t, and then I saw some taxi pull up and you got out with some guy. Who was that?”

If he was saying that he saw me get out of a taxi with Ian, then that meant he was here Saturday night. “You were here on Saturday?” I said.

“I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I’d swing by and see if you were home. And, as I said, I saw your car, so I figured you’d be there. I know you haven’t gotten your phone issues resolved yet, because you still haven’t responded to any of my messages, but that’s okay. I’m around here a lot, so it’s easy enough to just stop over.”

“Yeah, except it’s usually considered good manners to give a little bit of notice first, isn’t it?”

“So. How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine. But I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t be hanging out on my doorstep when I get home. It’s . . . it’s weird, okay? You just need to stop all of this, Noah. Please. You seem like a nice guy; I’m sure there’s a girl out there who would really be able to appreciate that. I’m certainly not the only girl in the world, you know.”

“I know you’re not,” he said. “And that’s what makes this so special. With so many people in the world, the fact that we finally found each other is . . . well, it’s amazing. I just need to help you see it.”

“No, you don’t.” I felt emboldened. Also, I felt pretty sick of his shit. I wanted this to stop. It had gone on for long enough. “This needs to stop, Noah. I’ve been trying to be nice to you, and I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you’re really not getting it through your head. You’re not hearing me. I am not interested in you. I’m not! I have a boyfriend, actually. That’s the guy you saw me getting out of the cab with. So I need you to leave me alone. Get on with your life, because you’re just wasting your time on me. We’re not going to be together. I’m not sure what gave you the idea that we would, but it’s not going to happen, okay? And if you don’t stop showing up at my place and following me around, I’m going to have to call the police. Which I don’t want to do, but I will, because it really feels like you’re leaving me no choice.”

He kept his eyes on me the whole time, his face blank. But then, when he was sure I was done speaking, his face broke out into a grin.

“I know you don’t mean that,” he said.

“No, but I do. I mean exactly that. I should have told you this a while ago. I’m going inside now. And if I look out the window and see that you’re still here, I’m calling the police.”

I marched past him, my keys in hand. Isn’t that what they said to do in women’s safety classes—carry your keys in your hand when you were walking alone or through a parking lot at night? Just feeling the cool metal in my hand calmed me a little, though I doubted I’d really be able to stab Noah’s eye out or something with them, if he were to lunge at me. But he didn’t; he simply stood there as I walked past, and I could feel his gaze boring into me as I hurried to unlock the front door.

I didn’t turn around to look when I finally got the door unlocked, but I quickly slipped in and slammed it shut behind me. It was a heavy door, and part of me was expecting that his arm was going to snake through at the last second before it shut, but it didn’t. I breathed a sigh of relief and then walked through the small lobby to my own door. What the hell was wrong with me? Why was he completely undeterred by everything that I said?

When my mother called the next evening, I felt for sure it was because she had some sort of sixth sense about my virginity, and she knew that I had lost it. Usually, more time elapsed between our interactions, especially when they ended as they had the last time we met up.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, trying to keep the weariness out of my voice as much as I could.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m good.”

“Am I interrupting your work? If I am, I’ll call back at another time.”

I glanced at my laptop, which I’d placed next to me on the couch to answer the phone. Yes, I’d just been using it—no, it hadn’t been to work on any writing. I was on Facebook, looking at Ian’s profile, scrolling through pictures, wondering if I should friend him or not. Since we were sleeping together, the obvious answer seemed yes, but I wasn’t sure since we were keeping things hush-hush.

“No, you’re not interrupting anything,” I said. “How are you?”

“Quite good, thank you. I was just working on my own manuscript, as a matter of fact, but thought I’d take a little break to give you a call. I’ve really found momentum to be the key to productivity, but everyone needs a break now and then, right?”

“Sure,” I said. “Glad to hear your writing is going so well.”

“So everything is good with you? Have you resolved any of those issues that you brought up the last time we got together?”

“If you’re asking whether I’ve quit my job or not, the answer is no. And I still ha

ve a stalker, and yes, I’m still considering moving.”