Ruthless Rival

But it doesn't sound like her either.

She's like me.

Guarded. Private.

Simon: From Paris?

Vanessa: Grad school.

Simon: A fellow MBA?

Vanessa: Will you be jealous I've invited another business expert to my house?

Yes.

Simon: A man?

Vanessa: You are jealous.

Extremely.

Vanessa: We're monogamous.

Simon: We are.

Vanessa: You don't trust me?

Simon: I do.

Vanessa: But you're jealous someone else sees me in my pajamas.

Simon: In your real pajamas.

Vanessa: Right. My real pajamas.

Simon: How long is your friend staying?

Vanessa: To be determined. Why? Are you counting the hours?

I will be. If she gives me a deadline.

Simon: I want to make plans.

Vanessa: To come to my place?

Simon: To make you come at your place.

Vanessa: Not bad.

Simon: That's all?

Vanessa: That's all.

Simon: Brutal.

Vanessa: You're a creative man. You can do better.

Simon: Is your friend keeping you busy?

Vanessa: No more than usual.

Simon: Come over tonight.

Vanessa: What about Opal?

She's right. Opal and I have a routine. One I insist we follow. Tuesdays, she meets me at the office after class. Thursdays, I meet her here. We go to dinner. Go home. Watch one of those ridiculous shows she loves.

I can't cancel on my sister.

Vanessa: It's okay. I don't want to leave my guest alone.

Simon: Your male guest?

Vanessa: Maybe. Maybe not.

Simon: Are you trying to make me jealous?

Vanessa: Is it working?

Simon: Yes.

Vanessa: I've never seen you jealous before.

Simon: You have.

Vanessa: When?

Simon: Senior prom.

Vanessa: You had a date.

Simon: You were dancing with the captain of the soccer team, staring into his eyes like you were madly in love.

Vanessa: You liked me that much?

Simon: I did.

Vanessa: You never asked me out.

Simon: You hated me.

Vanessa: Is that really what stopped you?

Maybe Bash was right. Maybe I've been afraid of a real connection all this time.

I never pursued Vanessa.

Even though I wanted her.

Even though she saw me in a way no one else did.

She hated me, yes, but that isn't what stopped me.

It was something else.

I always had a reason. She was seeing someone. She was on the opposite side of mock trial. She was going to school in Paris.

They were all excuses.

The truth is, I was scared.

I was scared I'd fall in love with her.

Fuck, I can hear Bash laughing. See him rolling his eyes, calling me on every ounce of my bullshit.

He always saw through me.

He was good at that.

How was he so fucking good at that?

Simon: No.

Vanessa: What stopped you?

Simon: I imagined a different future.

Vanessa: Now?

Simon: Now, when I imagine the future, it's Adam coming to work again every day. Opal graduating from school. The four of us, together.

Vanessa: You see your family.

Simon: I do.

Vanessa: And you, with a family?

Simon: It depends on the day.

Vanessa: Cute blue-eyed kids?

Simon: First, it was blondes, now this?

Vanessa: You don't need a blue-eyed woman for that? Do you?

Simon: I'm not a geneticist.

Vanessa: Is that what you imagine?

Simon: I did. When I was younger.

Vanessa: The blond, blue-eyed wife?

Simon: You're obsessed.

Vanessa: A little.

Simon: Is it projection? Should I wear a wig next time?

Vanessa: You'd wear a wig?

Simon: Yes.

Vanessa: You have a wig?

Simon: I live with a teenage girl.

Vanessa: Okay. Next time. Wear the wig.

Simon: Only if I keep it on.

Vanessa: Send me a picture then. So I can judge.

Simon: You think I won't?

Vanessa: I don't know.

A murmur fills the hall. Opal's class ending.

A student slips out of the room. Rushes to the stairs. To work or another class.

Or maybe to the bed of the woman he's desperate to fuck.

I should put my phone away now. Before Opal sees me.

That's the smart thing.

But I need to say this first.

Simon: Are you staying in tonight?

Vanessa: Maybe.

Simon: I don't have to come over to make you come.

Vanessa: You don't?

Simon: You've never had phone sex?

Vanessa: An actual call? Of course not.

Simon: Texts?

Vanessa: Pictures?

Simon: Yes.

Vanessa: Is that safe?

Simon: Cyber security wise? No.

Vanessa: But you'll send one anyway?

Simon: Yes.

Vanessa: I wouldn't turn that down.

Simon: Sweetness, you're gunning for my ego.

Vanessa: Not on purpose.

Simon: If you don't want a picture…

Vanessa: I do. But only if there's context. Not just the money shot. The posture. The expression. It's riskier, including your face, I know, but that's what I want.

Fuck. My thoughts are in the gutter.

Simon: Done.

Vanessa: Really?

Simon: I'll warn you first. Make sure you're alone.

Vanessa: I look forward to it.

She's an exhibitionist. Pictures will turn her on.

Not that my intentions are pure.

I want to savor the sight of Vanessa Moyer, naked, for me.

And I want to fuck myself to it.

The door swings open.

Footsteps and conversation fill the hall.

Simon: Until then.

Vanessa: Until then.

I slide my cell into my pocket, but I'm not fast enough.

Opal is already in the hallway, hugging her sketchbook to her chest, tapping her fingers against the yellow surface as she smiles. "Talking to someone?"

"Making plans."

"Plans to…"

"Let's get dinner."

"It was Vanessa!"

"Do you want Thai or sushi?"

"Is that even a question?"

Of course not. She loves spicy stir-fried noodles more than anything. I offer to take her sketchbook.

She hands it to me. And the backpack.