7. Libby #3
The face of my friend pops into my mind.
Drake is a cop from two towns over, and he likes casual sex too.
We’re both career-minded, we loathe the idea of dependency, we love working out, we enjoy a fit body and know the work it takes to get one.
He’s been the best thing that’s happened to me since…
forever. He’s not my boyfriend, we don’t date or chitchat.
But if I’m over his way, we meet up, and if he’s here, we meet up.
When the timing is right, we make each other come, then we part again with a friendly ‘ until next time. ’
It’s been the perfect arrangement for years.
“You have a fuck buddy,” Theo whispers. He leans in close enough that the nosy cashier twenty feet away can’t hear. “I don’t wanna know his name, Lib. I don’t wanna know where he lives, who his people are, or the last time he got to touch what’s mine. But that’s done now.”
“What’s yours–” My eyes widen. “What?”
“You and him.” Theo’s blue eyes dart between me and the front door as though Drake is right here.
The irony is, if he was, there’s not much he’d do about the situation I’ve found myself in.
If I sent out an SOS and said I was scared, he’d take care of business and remove me from the situation.
But if it was a thing about jealousy… there’s none of that between us.
We’ve both explored other things in the last few years, there are no hard feelings, no jealousy or greed.
Every time we’ve tried to find someone else, we invariably end up in bed together because neither of us are looking for what those people who date are looking for.
They want promises and forevers, and we mostly want to be left alone.
“That arrangement you have with whoever he is,” Theo continues.
“It’s done now. If you want a casual fuck, you know where to find me.
” His hand slides into my pocket, then out again to rest on my hip.
“You want an audience while you get yourself off using a toy, you call me. Fuck knows I’d enjoy that just as much.
If you wanna know what it feels like to come so hard you forget to be scared, you know where to find me.
I’m not here to hurt you, Libby. But I’ll sure as fuck enjoy your body when you offer it.
” He turns away with a flourish and leaves me panting against the shelves that hold the rainbow Cheerios .
“Eat the turkey, Lib. It’s good for you. ”
I glance into my cart and frown at the trays of turkey I never put there, then I reach into my pocket and pull out a business card.
It doesn’t have the lion logo I expect. Or a last name.
Nor does it have an email address. It simply says Theo , and below that, a phone number and an address in a city far from here.
These aren’t his typical business cards, but something else. Something a little more personal and, if I read him correctly, something a little more trusting.
I doubt Theo Griffin hands his address out to everyone as freely as he did just now. No doubt he’s made millions of dollars this weekend, and unlike my father, he did it legally. He’s not from my world, not even close. He’s neither criminal nor cop. He’s just… a person. A really rich person.
When that thought crosses my mind, and directly after that, fear that somehow his money will be linked to me and create suspicion amongst those who have a grudge against me, I tear the card into tiny pieces.
I want to toss it to the floor and run away, but it has his address, and I can’t betray his trust like that.
I’ll be damned if anyone ever heard Theo Griffin and I were anything more than…
well, strangers, or suggested I was a cop with less than stellar morals.
I’ve worked too damn hard to risk anything casting doubt on me or my uniform.
So I tear the card into as many pieces as my shaking hands can manage, then I take my phone out and call my arrangement .
“Hey, cutie.” Drake’s voice is like a ray of sunshine on a dreary day. “It’s been awhile. What’s shaking?”
“Ah…” My voice quivers, which enrages me. “Not much. I’m heading up your way tonight for work. You busy?”
He makes a growling noise in the back of his throat that usually gets my engines revving. “How long do you have?”
“An hour?” It comes out like a question. “I have to be back again for shift tomorrow morning, so I can’t stay. We could hang out around eight?”
“ Hang out .” Chuckling, he closes a car door and makes me think he’s on duty. “I love your brand of hanging out, Lizbeth. I’m open for eight. Afterwards, I can tell you about the date from hell I had last night.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, clingy as shit, whiny about every damn thing. I got her top off, and she had a sports bra on. A sports bra!”
My nerves turn to humor. Shaky and uncertain, as my eyes come up to find Theo watching me from the front doors of the store. He can’t possibly hear what I’m saying, but he still wears a coat of anger. Of rage. We don’t know each other, but I still feel like I’m in big trouble.
Can he read lips ? I turn away and give him my back. “That must have been terrible for you. Such a turn-off.”
Drake gives a throaty chuckle. “You know me, girl. You know I have a kink for lingerie. You gonna wear something nice for me? Make it black and barely there, and I’ll make it worth your while. I need something new to wash away the horror of what I saw last night.”
“Wait…” I frown. “Did you fuck her? Because you and I might be casual, but I don’t wanna be day two of your winning streak. That icks me out.”
He scoffs. “No, I sent her home. She was too whiny. She probably would’ve filled out a feedback form after we were done, and you know my fragile ego can’t take that kinda shit.”
“You’re such a little bitch,” I laugh. “I’ll be at your place around eight. I’m not coming to eat, no candlelight. Absolutely no romance. I just need to–”
“Let off steam?” he asks with a laugh. “I’ve got what you need, baby girl. I’ll bring the D, you bring the V, and we’ll jam that shit together till we make the gaga noises.”
“There is seriously something wrong with you. Like, right up in your brain, something got mixed up, and now you’re just weird.”
“And yet, you’re the one calling me,” he teases.
Touché .
“You sound kinda wound up; just come off your period?”
“No! Shut up about my damn period. I’ll see you later.”
I feel dirty as I hang up, and I’ve never in my life felt dirty after talking to Drake.
Women are allowed to have casual sex. We’re allowed to be thirty and not married.
I live my life for me, not to the standards society has set for me, which is precisely why I’ve been able to enjoy a casual relationship with a sexy man and zero commitment for so long.
But then I turn back to the front doors and find Theo Griffin’s eyes boring into mine. Suddenly it doesn’t feel okay anymore.
Scowling, I shove my phone back into my pocket and push the cart toward checkout. My movements are rough, and my groceries are tossed onto the conveyer belt haphazardly, annoying the cashier when she has to sort them before she bags them.
I pause when I finish emptying my cart and feel like something is missing. I have the chicken thighs. I have rice. I have the fresh produce and, annoyingly, the ground turkey. I look up with a frown and try to think of what’s missing.
Then it hits me.
“Where are my beans?”
The cashier continues to ring up my things and bag them with precision, but she does it with a scowl. She doesn’t give a single shit about my missing beans, and when I get home twenty minutes later and begin unpacking, I search every single bag three times.
“Where the hell are my beans?”