Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
The second we were out of sight, I retracted my hand, shifting the box, so I was holding it with both arms. In silence, we got back on the elevator. I pressed the floor-level button and dared to look at Porter’s face.
His expression was flat. Some part of him had shut down.
“I did the thing.” I sounded stupid stating the obvious.
Those eyes worked to focus on me.
I felt shaky. Like it had been my ex we had just seen. “She’ll come after you.”
“It’s done.”
“Not if you don’t want it to be.” I made a promise I couldn’t keep, “Trust me on that.”
“It’s over.”
The elevator ground to a halt. We carried the boxes across the lobby, and despite the fact that he had the most boxes, he held open the door with his foot for me.
“Porter,” a voice sounded from behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder. Felicia raced down the stairs in bare feet, her long hair flying behind her. She sounded panicked .
“Told you,” I said, as I stepped through the door.
“Wait!” she called in desperation.
Porter let the door shut, and he started down the steps. The door slammed open behind us.
“Please, Porter,” she cried, running down the steps towards us. “Please. I need to talk to you. One minute.”
Porter studied me.
I shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to listen.”
With control, he set the boxes down on the ground.
“I’ll go wait in the truck.” I climbed into the car and tried not to look at them, but I couldn’t help myself.
Next to Porter’s big frame, Felicia seemed delicate and petite. She did all the talking, waving her arms around and continually pushing her hands into her hair to fluff it out.
Porter lifted his baseball cap off his head a couple times, but I didn’t actually see his lips move.
My phone rang.
“Hey, Beth. It’s Jackson.”
“Is everything okay?”
He cleared his throat. “Emily caught me up.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t mess around with other people’s lives, but I do look out for my friends.”
“I know. What do you need?”
“Would you be willing to let Porter crash on your couch for a few more nights?”
“What? Of course.”
Jackson hesitated, his voice pained. “He won’t ask. You’ll have to offer.”
It should have dawned on me that he’d never ask. After watching this train wreck, I wanted to help. I needed to.
“I will. It’s no problem.”
What was the worst that could happen?
Porter picked up the boxes, and Felicia’s movements got a bit more frantic. He said something to her, then he walked towards the truck. She stood there, biting her lip, looking like she wanted to cry.
Porter swung into the truck, beside me. He gunned the engine, hit reverse then somehow turned the truck around in the narrow street. Silence clung to us. I kept checking on him, but he seemed indifferent. Unaffected. Focused on driving.
Here went nothing. “So, are you going to hang around New York?”
Stone-faced, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Not sure.”
“You know, you could always crash at my place. For as long as you want.”
He glanced at me. “Why?”
“I don’t understand your one worded question.”
“Why would you offer that?”
Because Jackson asked me to.
Because I’ve done the three days in a lonely hotel after a breakup, and it sucks.
Because your friends are worried about you. Including me.
“Because I really like messy, non-talking, incommunicative, hard-to-read soldiers hanging out at my place, and I especially like helping them get their supermodel ex-girlfriends back. It’s my go-to for when I need a pick-me-up.”
He was silent for a moment. “I’m not messy.”
“That’s what you got from all of that?”
“I’m neater than you.”
I focused on the ceiling of his truck and laughed. “Did you talk in your last relationship?”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. The entire time you two were on the sidewalk, she did all the talking.”
Nothing .
I valiantly continued, “I think you took your hat off a couple times. Is that some sort of code, because you should know that sign language is a lot more expressive.”
“Sign language?”
“The official language of the deaf.”
“I know what sign language is.”
“Would you prefer morse code?”
I got a look for that, but I could feel him loosening up. He was starting to breathe. So, I took it one step further. I opened my phone and found an app that translated text into Morse code beeps.
I typed in the text: YOU’RE THE BEST LOOKING PRETEND BOYFRIEND I’VE EVER HAD. I pressed play, and a series of short and long beeps came out of my phone.
He listened, slowly blinking, his face tinged with amusement. It was enough to keep me going.
“How about this?” I typed in: I WANT TO HAVE PUBLIC SEX WITH YOU.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked after I played that morse code message to him.
“You have no idea how much. Wait. One more.”
IF YOU STAY WITH ME, I’LL DEMAND USE OF YOUR HOT COCK EVERY NIGHT.
He pretended to listen, and his lips twitched. “That sounds important. Are you going to translate?”
“Nope.” At his silence, I relented, “Fine. The phone is going back in the purse. So, are you going to hang around in New York for a while?”
He cleared his throat. “You don’t mind?”
“This morning, I offered to help you with an armed robbery. When you hit that level of friendship, couch surfing is a given.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Okay,” I said in my most dramatic voice. “But just so we’re clear, you can’t go all frat boy on me.”
His look demanded an explanation .
“You know, I don’t want to be tripping over your dirty socks. You can’t be messy.”
“I’m not messy.”
I smiled as I talked, “I equate frat food with fat food, and this ass can’t handle pizza and beer every night, so if you eat that, don’t offer it to me.”
“Your ass looks fine.”
“My ass looks more than fine. This ass is the result of hours of yoga and spin class, and because I don’t feed it pizza.”
I could tell he thought I was a bit crazy, but if it took his mind off things, I was okay with that. We drove in silence for a few moments, both lost in our own thoughts.
I had to know. “What did she say?”
He drove two blocks before he answered. “She wants to go out for dinner. To catch up. As friends.”
“Translation: she wants you back.”
“You don’t know that.”
“But I do.” My breath hitched in my throat. “When are you getting together?”
“I didn’t say I was.”
“Wasn’t that the point?”
“Of what?”
“Of me doing the thing.”
“I don’t know if I want to.” Huh. Well, he did have the right to not want to see her. She had royally fucked him over.
“Well, where did you leave it?”
“I said I’d be in touch.”
“Oh.”
We drove the rest of the way home in silence. I helped him carry the boxes. He waited until the elevator door closed before he asked, “How do you know it’s hot?”
“How do I know what is hot?”
“My cock.”
What ?
The elevator door opened. I rushed after him. “You know morse code?”
“Yup.”
My face burned hot. What had I texted? Public sex. Demanding use of his hot cock. Every single night. Oh, God. “That’s not fair.”
His smile wasn’t huge, but it was still a smile. “It was entertaining.”
“I didn’t mean it.” I unlocked the door.
“I thought your messages were pretty clear. You didn’t leave a lot of room for interpretation.”
“Porter!”
He didn’t laugh, but he did look amused. Under the circumstances, that was the best I was going to get. I watched as he set down his boxes in my front entrance.
My face was so hot. “I’m not hitting on you.”
Grey eyes met mine.
“I mean, obviously! With your beautiful ex-girlfriend wanting you back and you driving home from seeing her. It would be completely inappropriate to proposition you at a time like that.”
He let me marinate in awkward silence before he spoke. “It wasn’t that inappropriate.”
“It wasn’t?”
“It was a good reminder for me.”
Of what, I wasn’t sure. Nor did I want to ask. “Oh.”
He jingled his keys in his hand. “I’m going out for awhile.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll try and be quiet when I come in.”
“For sure.”
And then he was gone, leaving me to wondering what exactly I was reminding him of.