Chapter Five Violet #2
“Just come with me,” the strange woman says, grabbing my waist and leading me away from the asshole at the counter.
Damn, she smells good. Is that… cologne? No. Too feminine to be cologne, but definitely a stronger scent, and holy shit, it’s having the same effects on me as the women in the Axe Body Spray commercials.
I inhale once, and my panties are soaked.
What the hell is that?
Legging Fondler stops walking and turns me to face her. I’m not sure if she wants my full attention or if she doesn’t want me glaring at Mr. Quality Padlocks.
“I was the one who took you from the bar and put you in your hotel room last night. I wrote that note.”
I stare at her. “Why did you do that? I was fine to get to my room on my own.”
She laughs. Actually laughs. It’s not soft or careful, but low and rough around the edges. I’m glaring at her, and that’s when I realize she’s decked out in Under Armour spandex.
“Are you an athlete?”
Legging Fondler looks down at herself as if realizing for the first time that she is, in fact, an athlete.
“No, you could not get to your room on your own. And yes, I am an athlete. I’m here with the U.S.A. Women’s Hockey Team.”
“What do you mean, I couldn’t get to my room on my own?” Now I’m starting to get worried that maybe Theo did show up here and caused a scene. Or worse… they showed up here.
I need to call Michel.
“Listen, I called you Drunk Woman all night because I didn’t know your name.
But you spent two hours pouring your life story out to the bartender.
And for every ‘cheating bastard’,” she says with air quotes, “that spilled from your lips, Jacopo-Johnny refilled your glass. I swear you’re a champ.
You basically drank an entire bottle of vodka through a tiny straw. ”
“Who the fuck is Jacopo-Johnny?” I’m not sure why this is the only question that comes to mind. I’m mortified that I spewed my personal life to anyone at the bar who would listen. How much did I tell them?
“The bartender’s name was Jacopo, but you kept calling him Johnny.”
I run a hand over my face. “Wow,” I breathe. “I was really drunk.”
She laughs again. “You really were.”
My eyes drop to my feet, and when I look up, Legging Fondler is still staring at me.
Oh, shit…
“Did we…?”
“No,” she shouts, immediately before looking around the room, embarrassed at her outburst. “No, we did not. I took you to your room, put you into your bed, wrote the note so you didn’t think you were robbed, and then I went to my room.”
“Did you try to…”
“No,” she shouts again with her face twisted in what I can only read as disgust.
“Well, you don’t have to be so mean about it.” I’m not sure why I’m defending myself. I’ve never even been with a woman, and I wouldn’t expect one to look at me and assume I would be interested.
It’s not like she isn’t attractive. I don’t have to be a lesbian to appreciate the good looks of another female. I know an attractive person when I see one.
And she is attractive. Good for her.
My eyes continue to drift over her before I meet her gaze.
Shit.
“I wasn’t checking you out.” I practically stutter over my words. “I mean, I was, but it wasn’t on purpose.”
“You were accidentally checking me out?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head like that can erase the past thirty seconds of this conversation.
“I didn’t mean to offend you.” Her tone is soft and apologetic. “I would definitely hit on you. I just wouldn’t take advantage of someone. That’s all.”
I look around the room and notice she does the same thing. Thankfully, nobody is watching us.
My phone buzzes for the fourth time since I’ve started yelling at the counter snob, and in a panic, I say, “Listen, I don’t know your name or what I said to you last night, but I apparently trusted you enough to let you take me back to my room.
” Her eyebrows lift at that last part of my statement.
“But I don’t really know anyone here, and it would be nice to have a friend. At least for as long as I’m here.”
I open the contacts app on my phone and hand it to her. She stares at it like I’m giving her a bomb.
“It’s not going to bite.”
She still hasn’t taken the phone.
“Can I please just get your number? I’ll take you out for coffee or something as a thank-you for making sure I was safe last night. Nothing more than a thank you.”
Her eyes soften at that, and she accepts my phone. Without saying anything, she types for a few seconds and hands it back to me.
“I’ll call you… No, I won’t.” I shake my head and squeeze my eyes closed before sighing and looking back up at her. “I hate talking on the phone. I’ll text you and see when you’re free. I’m here until after the Olympics are over.”
She nods. “Me too.”
I give her a shy smile, suddenly feeling extremely exposed. “Okay.”
“Alright.”
And with that, she turns on the heels of her sleek, black sneakers and heads out the front doors of the hotel.
That’s when I notice the Olympic logo on the back of her jacket.
“Holy shit,” I whisper to myself as the hotel doors close, and I give myself a few seconds to let it register before picking my jaw up off the floor. My stupid hangover brain heard her say she was an athlete, but never put the two pieces together that she’s an ATHLETE.
“AN OLYMPIAN?!” Cassie screams into my ear. “YOU SLEPT WITH AN OLYMPIAN?!”
“Cassie,” I shout as I flip my turn signal and pull into the studio parking lot. “I didn’t sleep with her. She brought me back to my hotel room after I’d apparently spilled my relationship story to the hot bartender.”
“Did you sleep with the bartender?”