Chapter 3 DIEGO #3
In truth, she was goddamn gorgeous. Beautiful blond hair pulled back tight, large, dark eyes like a doll’s, great contouring that made her look like she had cheekbones to die for.
Average body, but nothing to scoff at, from what I could tell, and she clearly had an understated and elegant sense of style.
I hated her immediately. Which was stupid, because this was not a competition, and even if it was, I was clearly hotter. But I don’t fuck with cheaters.
Except that Taran wasn’t my problem, and I, of all people, didn’t need to be sticking up for him with his ex-lovers.
“Oh, no. Just a girldate.” She waved one hand and took a step backward.
“Technically we’re on a boydate,” I pointed out.
“I mean, um.” Her smile was a thousand watts of forced, false sunshine. “We had a boozy brunch and now we’re just. You know.”
Taran said, “Diego’s a theater guy.”
“So, uh, how do you two know each other?”
“High school,” I said.
“Oh.” She looked at Taran as if to ask what the fuck?
The lights flickered and the bell gave three little dings to let us know we had five minutes to get back to our seats.
“There’s our cue.” Taran stood and came around to my side of the table. “Later, Jennie.”
“Enjoy the show!” I slipped my free hand into Taran’s, let him pull me up to standing, and twined my fingers through his as we walked away.
“You have no idea the restraint I’m showing right now by not smacking your ass,” I said through my teeth.
He laughed again. “You were amazing. I think she was surprised even to see me, let alone me with someone.”
“With a guy,” I corrected.
He shot me a knowing look. “It is pretty funny.”
“Hilarious.”
We made our way through the crowd and back to our seats. And by that time, I had to say something. “She’s like a seven at best.”
He snorted into his drink again. “Come on. She’s an eight at least.”
She was probably a nine. Maybe a nine-point-three, if you were into that type. So I just shrugged and asked, “What am I?”
“One to ten?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation, Taran immediately replied, “Twenty-seven.”
Later, at our early but fancy dinner, our server told us we were cute together. Taran smiled and said thank you, and I flirted with the guy like crazy. Got us free dessert, too.
Taran told me about his work friends, and I told him about mine.
We talked about people we used to know and movies we loved to rewatch, about music from the last decade that still hit just right and the most life-changing meals we’d ever eaten.
All of this over the most expensive steak in town, both of us ordering top-shelf cocktails before sharing a bottle of wine he picked.
I’d had guys take me out for nice dinners before.
I couldn’t figure out why I was so impressed with this one until I realized it wasn’t just the server looking at us and smiling.
The overstuffed barflies, the middle-aged ladies on a post-theater binge, and the young aspirational professionals were all smiles when they noticed him touch my hand or pour me a glass of wine.
Not in a creepy way, but just like it was… yeah, cute. Normal.
As we were eating our free crème brulee, I finally had to ask, “Is this weird?”
“What?” He looked down at the custard. “Something wrong with it?”
I hated that it made me laugh. “No, not the food. I just mean, this. You and me, being here.”
He frowned. “Do I seem weird?”
“No. You seem like this is totally fucking normal,” I admitted.
“Well, I mean, I’m still a little nervous. Working up the courage to ask for confirmation that we can do this again.”
Anyone would’ve been charmed, or so I told myself. This was how he’d done it back in the day, too; I would’ve hooked up with him even if I hadn’t liked him. But goddamn, I had liked him. And still did, in spite of spending years blaming him for the worst heartbreak of my life.
He nodded, licking his lips. “You mean, like, that it’s you and me, and we’re doing this?”
“It’s weird, right?” I sounded like I wanted him to agree with me. I didn’t. I wanted to believe that this was just two guys who’d been too stupid to make it work the first time trying again in a more grown-up way.
But it felt… yeah. Too easy. Uneasy? That little itch in my brain from before was coming back, and I couldn’t figure out what it was. But something felt off—and not something obvious.
“I don’t think it’s weird,” he said apologetically. “It actually feels like the good kind of easy, to me. Not like we never stopped talking or anything, or like we picked up where we left off. Thank god.”
I snorted.
“I guess I just feel lucky you want to be here,” he said finally, then gave a little nod, as if that said it all.
I took a long drink of my wine, flailing for the words to explain that him saying that didn’t make me feel any better. I mean, yes, obviously I loved to hear a big, beautiful man grovel a little. I’m not made of stone.
But I didn’t like that he felt the need to keep doing it, maybe? Not in a way that made me irritated or angry with him, but just in a way that made me feel…
Guilty?
Fuck. That was it. I felt guilty, seeing all this evidence of just how much he blamed himself for, as he’d said last night, disappointing me.
Because when it came to what’d gone down between us all those years ago, it was just as much my fault as his. Maybe more.
Fuck.
“Don’t,” I said suddenly, setting down my drink.
He nodded. But then paused and asked, “Don’t what, exactly?”
“Don’t… worry about that. Not right now. Let’s just—not pretend it never happened, but just put it to one side for now?” I suggested.
Another nod, this time with a smile. “Sure.”
“Tell me about Jennie. She seems like she has serious drama potential,” I suggested, trying to slide into gossip girl mode. Again, retreating into the familiar.
“I never really thought so before we broke up.” His smile was faint, crinkling the corners of his bright eyes almost fondly.
An odd expression when talking about someone who had recently upended his whole life.
“But looking back, she used to spill a lot of tea about her friends. And to her friends, and some of them live for it. So, I guess it was just that she never brought the drama on me.”
“Until she did.”
“Yeah, exactly.”
“I note that hockey boy was not present today,” I pointed out, stabbing a French fry into some delicious truffle aioli. “I bet he didn’t last a month.”
He chuckled. “No idea, honestly. I didn’t block her or anything, but I turned off notifications. Not sure why she’d tell me, anyhow.”
“Did she try to get you back?”
“Yeah, but it was kinda fake. Like she just didn’t want to have to pay rent on her own or something.” He snorted and sipped his expensive bourbon, rocks clinking.
“This is why living with someone is usually a terrible idea,” I said. Honestly, I was just impressed that he really didn’t seem to care; most people said they didn’t care, but even when faced with his ex in the flesh, he’d just been kinda meh about it.
Kind of badass. Or sociopathic. Hard to say.
“When’s the last time you tried it?” he asked.
“Mmm, a year or two. I hate sharing a bathroom and I’ve never been able to afford a place with more than one.” I was being dead serious but was aware it was also funny, in a bitchy way.
“I have two and a half, so you should definitely come visit. You can have your own.”
“I might.” I smirked a little, already thinking I should do just that, and show up in the skirt.
“I’ll make you dinner,” he promised. “I do the most amazing cacio e pepe.”
“I don’t know what that is, but it sounds Italian, so I’m in.” Red meat, pasta, bread—all treats I rarely allowed myself. But if he was offering…
“Great. When do you have a free evening?”
“I’m usually off Tuesdays and Wednesdays.”
“Tuesday?”
Someone was in a hurry. “One condition,” I said, biting at my lip in the most suggestive way I could, in public.
His gaze immediately fixed on my mouth. He nodded.
I smiled. “It’s sweet for today. But I’m going to need to do more than kiss you, if I come all the way out to Robinson for a date.”
He smiled right back. “What did you have in mind?”
I licked my lips while he watched—and ran the toe of my boot up the inside of his calf beneath the table. “I’m sure something will come to me while I’m all alone tonight.”
“Yeah, now you mention it.” He shifted in his seat, chuckling and flushing. “I’ll probably have a few ideas by then, too.”