Chapter 7
SEVEN
JULIETTE
I regret saying yes to this date for so many reasons.
It’s against the rules. You know that; I know that. Everyone knows that.
I have no idea what to do with a man like Aaron Bishop—I proved that by wasting the one chance I had to seduce him and didn’t manage it.
He’s intimidating. I feel like he’s toying with me but can’t figure out how? Or why…
Curiosity killed the cat.
“You’re fine, Juliette. It’s fine. People break rules all the time! I mean, look at that sports reporter who married that football player, what’s her name and what’s his face…”
It’ll be our secret…
I repeat the mantra in my head while standing in my walk-in closet, staring at my clothes, tampering down the emotions churning in my lower stomach.
Secret.
That word alone should be enough to make me cancel.
I stop in front of the mirror.
Stare at myself.
“You are not this girl,” I whisper to no one. “You are responsible. You are dependable. You would not knowingly put it all on the line for some random guy.”
He’s toying with me—has to be.
Why else would he ask me out? I mean—look at me! He could have anyone. I look like… like a kindergarten teacher! I stay home to read on weekends and wear glasses.
I alphabetize my bookshelf by author.
He’s built like sin and knows it.
Aaron Bishop knows he’s hot shit.
“Just this once, do something reckless.” Another mantra I will probably regret.
The zipper slides up. The satin dress hugs my curves.
It’s modest but fitted, its delicate floral pattern one of my favorites. Blue. White. With gold buttons down the front.
I turn side to side, smoothing my palms down my stomach, assessing my profile.
Too much?
Not enough?
I step closer to the mirror, brushing my hair over one shoulder. My pulse is already racing, and I haven’t even left the apartment yet.
I add a ribbon to my hair.
Tie it in a bow and step back, admiring the sheen.
Remove it.
“This is ridiculous,” I breathe, staring at my reflection.
No, this is risky.
This is a career-ending date waiting to happen should Whitney catch wind of it.
I reach for a pair of heels and slip them on anyway.
“It’s one meal,” I mutter. “So things between us are not awkward.”
Dinner with the man who had his mouth between my legs and made me come like he knew what he was doing and wanted to make me feel good… before slipping out of my apartment.
“Stop thinking about it!”
I can’t!
I mean, what am I even supposed to say to him tonight?
Thank you for the thigh-shaking orgasm?
Lovely weather we’re having?
Ugh!
Frustrated with my indecision, I pull the ribbon from my hair and let it fall in waves around my shoulders, shaking it loose. Reach for the lip gloss, swiping it across my mouth. Pucker my lips.
I take a long look in the mirror and blow out a steady breath.
“You’re fine,” I tell the young woman staring back at me. “He’s been in your apartment; you’ve flirted with him. This is going to be fun.”
So fun, I tell myself.
“I am fun.”
In a conservative way. In a responsible, always considers the consequences kind of way, which makes this all the more exciting. I am doing something I should not be doing, because I want to, and will think about the potential fallout later.
What woman wouldn’t want to enjoy a meal with a handsome man?
It’s not like we’re in a secret relationship, we’re…
Going on a secret date.
Who am I?
My phone buzzes on the bathroom counter, making me jump.
I glance down, expecting it to be Blaire but it’s not.
Mom.
Of course it is. As if I weren’t keyed up enough.
I stare at the screen for a second, debating whether to answer it, because my mother does not call to say a quick hello. She calls because she’s bored. Or has a million questions about something. Or wants to gossip.
Still, if I don’t answer, I’ll feel guilty. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, honey!” She wastes no time cutting to the chase, but I’m not so easily directed. “What are you up to?”
I glance at my reflection again, resting my hand on my stomach to quell the nerves.
“Getting ready to go out.”
“Oh?” Her voice perks up immediately. “Do you have a date?”
My parents weren’t aware I was dating anyone—I hadn’t mentioned Preston because he and I had only been out a handful of times, even though we’d texted for almost a month.
“I’m having dinner.” It’s not a lie.
There’s a beat of silence on the other end. “With who?”
I tuck the phone between my shoulder and ear while retouching my lipstick. “I’m going out. It’s not a big deal.”
“Is it someone from work?”
My stomach dips.
Technically, yes.
“You could say that.”
“Is this someone a man?”
“Mom.”
She laughs on the other end of the line. “What? Can’t I ask questions? You and your brother are so secretive when it comes to your love lives. I want to be a part of your life, sweetie.”
I sigh. “I’m not so secretive when it comes to my love life, Mom. I have no love life.”
Also, not a lie.
One-night stands do not count.
“Well, I hope whoever he is, he’s nice.”
“Thank you, Mother.” I shake my head, leaning closer to the mirror to check my mascara. “It’s not serious. It’s dinner.”
“I worry about you, sweetie. You’re so different from your brother.”
I know this.
All you have to do is stick us side by side and anyone can see it.
“Well,” she says. “Speaking of your brother, I talked to him yesterday. He sounded so exhausted. Poor thing is under so much pressure lately.”
Of course she did.
And just like that, the excitement I felt five seconds ago flickers and fades at the mention of his name. If my mother finds out I’m having dinner with Aaron Bishop, she will mention it to Declan the next time they’re on the phone.
“I’m sure he’s exhausted. They’re mid-season.”
“Maybe you should call him tomorrow,” she suggests. “He always appreciates hearing from you.”
I roll my eyes. “Mm-hmm.”
Declan is a grown man who does not need constant check-ins.
“He looked fine to me when I ran into him at the office,” I reiterate.
Agitated, but fine.
I twist the cap onto my mascara, my attention drifting back to the mirror while she continues chatting. About groceries. About the neighbor’s new rescue dog crapping in my parents’ yard. I murmur my responses, brain somewhere else.
All I can think about now is the fact that I’m standing in my bathroom getting ready to have dinner with one of Declan’s teammates, with whom I should not be dining.
And if my mother tells my brother…
“Juliette?”
“Sorry,” I say quickly. “Still here. Trying to stay on task so I’m not late.”
“Don’t stay out too late, it’s not the weekend,” she says as if I were in high school and it was a school night. “And if he’s not a gentleman, you don’t have to stay. And you don’t have to see him again.”
I almost laugh. Little does she know, I’m the type of woman who walks out on a man who isn’t behaving like a gentleman.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Mom.” I smile at my reflection to punctuate my sentence, but that fades as a new thought enters my mind. If I have to hide this from my own family, maybe that’s a sign. Maybe this is the kind of complication I should avoid.
“This is not who I am,” I whisper.
“Sorry?” my mother says. “What was that?”
“Nothing.” Nothing. This is just me, being an awful person and a terrible employee, all for a good-looking man who will probably never speak to me again after tonight.
Do not throw it all away for a guy.
“I was talking to myself.”
She laughs, blissfully unaware of my inner turmoil. “Alright, I’ll let you go. Have fun tonight.”
“I will.”
“And call your brother tomorrow.”
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
I stare at the phone in my hand once we disconnect, tempted to message my brother and ask for Aaron’s number so I can cancel our plans.
That would be the responsible thing to do.
Jesus, you always play it safe, a voice inside me says. Live on the edge for once in your life. What’s the worst thing that could happen?
“I get fired?” I shove the phone into my purse before I can overthink it again, grab my keys from the counter, and head for the door.
“Screw it,” I decide, flipping off the lights.
It’s just dinner.