CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jovana
“I can’t believe you have this much shit,” Grayson grumbled from the kitchen the second the movers left his condo.
I’d asked the men to stack my boxes in the living room. I couldn’t have them place my things in Grayson’s bedroom. I’d just have to move them all the way to the other side of his condo, and I didn’t want to do that. At least the living room was much closer to the guest wing. I also didn’t want the movers to know I wasn’t going to be staying in his room.
Extra precaution was necessary when you were lying to the entire world.
“It’s not shit,” I told him, standing next to the six rows of boxes, each row five boxes high. “This is my entire life. Everything I own aside from my bed, dresser, nightstand, and bookshelf.” I’d given all the furniture to Sloane since I couldn’t bring it here. Once the year was over, I hoped she’d give it all back—a thought that caused a knot to lodge into my throat, causing me to whisper, “Be a little gentler with your words, will ya?”
He was leaning over the island with a bottle of water in his hands, the plastic making a crinkle sound as he squeezed it. “What are you planning on doing with it all?”
“Unpacking it. Obviously.”
“When?”
I opened the nearest box, which was full of books. The guest room didn’t have a bookcase or shelf. I was sure I had at least five more boxes that were just as full as this one. “Over the next couple of days, assuming I can get some shelves installed or something to hold all of”—I reached inside and pulled out the top title, showing him the cover of a shirtless man gripping the waist of a woman dressed in his button-down—“these.”
He eyed the book. “You want to display those in your room?”
“Yes.”
“Because?”
I placed the book back and tucked the folds to close the box. “I’ve told you my parents have been very inspirational when it comes to love and what I want in a relationship, but so has everything I’ve read. These aren’t just stories to me. They’re lessons. Tales about life and commitment and the hardships of a relationship. Every one that I’ve read means something a little different to me.”
He shook his head. “You’re setting yourself up for failure. You know that, don’t you? Whatever goes down in those stories isn’t reality. At all.”
“You would say that because you don’t believe in love. But I do and I’m not going to settle.” I glanced toward the boxes again. “Are some of the novels a little outlandish, sure. But the point is that everyone deserves to be loved. Not cheated on. Not used. Not disrespected. Not constantly screamed at. There’s someone for everyone, and I’m going to find my person.”
As I glanced in his direction, he was slowly licking across his lips. “And who is that person going to be? Jared?”
I laughed. “Maybe. Or maybe one of my other followers. Or a man I meet in the elevator of your building. Or someone I find on Hooked. Heck, even Holden is kinda cute.”
I’d seen Holden a few times in the bar and after we’d shot the ad in Grayson’s office. He had this beautiful, golden-color hair that reminded me of honey, the most dashing dark-blue eyes, and the kind of smile that was infectious. And when he looked at you, you could feel it, sense it, a unique type of charm that was positively consuming.
But Holden wasn’t my type.
I just wanted to get under Grayson’s skin.
His top lip lifted, like he was about to bare his teeth, and he clenched the plastic so hard, the bottle bent. “Watch yourself. You’re playing with fire right now.”
“Why would you care if I dated your best friend? Or one of my followers? Or a man I met in your elevator?” I waited for a response. When he said nothing, I continued, “Do me a favor, Grayson. If you’re going to warn me, at least have a reason to back it up. I’m the most patient person in this world, but empty threats get on my nerves.”
“God, you have a mouth on you.” He opened the bottom cabinet where the trash was located and tossed the water inside. “I’m starving. I’m going out to get something to eat. You can either join me or sit around and play with your ridiculous fucking books. Your call.”
My stomach groaned at the mention of food. With the move, I’d accidentally skipped lunch, and the only things in me were several cups of coffee and a banana.
I glanced down at what I had on.
Yoga pants.
Tank top.
Sneakers.
And on my head was a baseball hat, my hair braided and hanging across my breast.
I didn’t care if we spent the rest of the night arguing where I could prove how wrong and ridiculous he was. I needed to eat. “Will you go somewhere casual? And not bougie like usual? So I can wear this and I don’t have to change?”
“And here I thought you were going to decline my offer.” He’d left his wallet on the counter after tipping the movers and he shoved it into his back pocket.
“I know that’s what you really wanted, but I’d rather torture you with my presence.”
“Sounds like it’s going to be the perfect dinner.” He chuckled. “How about the pub across the street?”
“Yesss.”
“Then let’s go,” he said, walking to the door.
I quickly grabbed my purse from the guest bedroom and rushed to meet up with him at the elevator.
The ride down to the lobby was silent. Fortunately, I kept my hat low, so I could look at him without being so obvious. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, his eyes on the door, his expression full of focus, like he was deep in thought.
I was so curious about what ran through his mind.
Did Grayson ever self-reflect on his choice of words? Did he ever regret the things he said?
Did he ever say one thing but mean another?
And I understood why he protected himself with a thick outer layer—after what he experienced with his mother, he struggled with trust—but I just wished he didn’t wear a shield all the time. That there were more moments when he’d hang that metal coating in the closet and show me the softness that was underneath.
The elevator opened before we reached the bottom, and an older woman walked in. She smiled at us, and since we were standing against the far wall, she gave us her back to face the front.
I was focused on the screen that showed our descent, the number changing with each floor, when Grayson whispered, “I thought that was going to be your chance.”
I tried to piece together his statement. “Excuse me?”
“Your future husband.” He nodded toward the woman. “Too bad, isn’t it?”
My God.
He didn’t self-reflect at all.
The man was just a constant, relentless asshole.
I shot him my middle finger, and when the door slid open, we allowed the woman to leave first and quickly passed her in the lobby, exiting through the front and crossing the street to the pub. We sat at a table near the bar, and just as I was taking my phone out of my purse so I wouldn’t have to make small talk with Mr. Asshole, a waiter approached.
“What can I get you to drink?” he asked.
“Everything,” I replied.
He laughed. “Ironically, I can probably make that happen.”
While I pondered, Grayson said, “Since she can’t make up her mind, I’ll take an extra-dirty martini.”
My mouth watered at the thought of sipping something olive flavored. “I’ll have the same.”
“Coming right up—” The waiter paused midsentence, staring at me much more intensely than when he’d first come to our table. “Hey, you’re Jovana, aren’t you?”
I held the top of my hat while I glanced up at him. “I am.”
“I follow you on Instagram. My girlfriend got me into you. Well, ex-girlfriend now. I dumped the girl but kept you around.” He laughed as though he realized how weird that sounded. “I like your vibe. I even bought that fanny pack thing you’ve been wearing for the last couple of months for my sister. She loves it.”
This wasn’t the first time I’d been recognized.
Each time, I found it so odd. Fantastic for business, but still ... odd.
Especially when I smelled like a goat without a swipe of makeup on my face and an outfit that I’d sweated through more than once today.
Regardless, he was a follower of mine. His purchase contributed to my income. And now that his sister owned the fanny pack, maybe she would become a follower, along with her friends.
That was why it didn’t matter how I felt about myself in this moment. How bad I smelled. How gross I looked and felt.
I appreciated what I had.
And kindness was never difficult.
“What color did you get her?” I smiled.
“Same as yours. The pink one.”
“Good choice,” I replied. I read his name tag and held out my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Sebastian.”
“You as well.” His stare gradually shifted over to Grayson. “And you’re the boyfriend. I’ve seen your pictures on Jovana’s account.” He gave Grayson his hand and they shook. “You own that dating app, right?”
Grayson wasn’t amused.
He was also losing his patience.
“You mean Hooked. Yes, I’m a cofounder.” Coldness was pouring off his face by the gallon.
“Yeah, Hooked, that’s what it’s called.” Sebastian’s focus returned to me. “It’s cool to see you in here. I can tell my friends I met someone famous.” He laughed to himself as he walked away from the table.
I connected my stare with Grayson’s, who was now leaning back in his chair, his arms perched high on his chest, his gaze penetrating right through me.
“What?” I asked him.
“What do you mean, what? That dude was eye-fucking the shit out of you.”
“No, he wasn’t.”
“He certainly was, and the kicker is that I’m sitting right here. That takes some serious balls.” His expression became a little more pompous when he said, “You’re the boyfriend. You own the dating app.” He even tried to mimic Sebastian’s voice and Boston accent.
Someone was hot and bothered.
And I loved that.
“What did you want him to do?” I rested my arms on the table. “Bow down to you?”
He glanced around the bar until he found Sebastian, his eyes turning into a glare. “How about treat me with a little respect. I’m your goddamn boyfriend.”
I sighed. “Isn’t that a loaded statement.”
He mirrored my position and said just loud enough for me to hear, “On paper, I am, Jovana. And as far as that motherfucker knows, you’re taken.”
Except that paper was going to be shredded.
And in Grayson’s mind, I wasn’t his.
“It’s funny to me that this even bothers you. You don’t want love. You don’t want to be tied down. You don’t want emotions to be involved whatsoever. But you don’t want to hear about the male friends I’ve met online, like Jared, and you don’t want me to date your best friend, and you care about Sebastian striking up a conversation with me, which was all he was doing, Grayson.” I knew the next thing I was going to say was a bold move, but I no longer cared. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you actually felt something for me.”
“Do you know what I feel?” He ground his teeth together. “Blue balls.”
I knew how long it had been since we’d slept together.
I felt the ache too.
But I wanted him to desire me in a way that went beyond a physical need.
I wanted him to crave me emotionally.
I wanted his care as much as I wanted his mouth.
I smiled as large as my lips would pull apart. “Get used to that feeling. It’s going to be a very long time before anything down there”—I nodded toward his lap—“goes anywhere near me.”