32. Naya
THIRTY-TWO
NAYA
I thought about Amias wanting me to move in with him a lot. And by that I mean all the time. Darren couldn't understand what my problem was.
"What if people think I'm with him for his money?"
"Who cares what people think?"
He was right; who cared? But I worried that eventually, Amias might.
I was a nerdy kid that no one paid much attention to, and here, Mr. Handsome himself wanted me.
I was obviously in a parallel universe, or I was in a coma, and all this was happening in my head.
Or maybe it was one of those Inception-type situations.
This was a dream, and when I woke up, I'd find myself going down the wrong rabbit hole.
The one thing that I had gotten better at was staying over at his place.
I'd even moved some of my clothes and toiletries.
Every time I added something new, Amias was giddy.
I sometimes wanted to shake him and demand why he loved me.
And I had, and he'd patiently told me what he always did when my insecurities threatened to take over me, make me feel small, make me want to cower and hide: You're the warmest, most generous, strongest, most beautiful woman I know; your pussy tastes like fucking heaven, and you give excellent blowjobs.
It was getting harder to doubt us as the days passed—and it was getting even harder to resist Amias.
I wanted to greedily grab the possibility of our life together.
I wanted to move in and workout in his gym; and make love with him in the sunshine on his rooftop patio; and marry him. I wanted to do it all.
Two weeks after we bumped into Kara and Nolan, I was at Amias's place upon his order while he was traveling.
I'd worked out in his gym and, after a shower, was in his t-shirt and a pair of panties, which was how he liked me to hang around his place, working in his living room, when his front doorbell rang.
Amias must've forgotten his key, I thought joyfully. I set my laptop aside and ran to the door. I flung it open and took a step back. Ann and another woman stood at the doorway. I knew who she was, I thought, once I got a better look.
Holy shit! Vivianna Westbrook, Amia's indomitable mother was at his doorstep.
It was one thing to be caught without pants in general and quite another when the worst parts of your body were on display. There was no hiding as I stood in front of the two women, and they both gasped as they looked at me.
"Oh my god," Ann cried out. "Put some pants on, for god's sake. No one needs to see that."
"Is Amias home?" his mother asked as she brushed past me and walked in, not sparing me much of a glance.
"No, I'm afraid he's in New York," I said pleasantly as I walked to the couch. "And you are?"
Vivianna looked at me. "I'm his mother, and I think you should, as Ann suggested, put some clothes on and get out of here."