9. Nine
Nine
Ainsley
“ W hat crawled up your ass this morning?” Della, my best friend and roommate, asks as I storm into the kitchen.
I’m crankier than usual. I need to fill her in on the developments with Payton and it’s been a few days since we’ve caught up. Our schedules haven’t aligned lately and this is the first morning we’ve crossed paths in weeks.
I think about the FaceTime call Payton answered while in the shower and every glorious bit of him I happened to see. Jesus, that was inappropriate. I should have hung up immediately. Instead, I let his chiseled body, the incredible way he looked wet, the flirty banter, and straight-up sex in his words distract me. I’m a damn professional, not some boy-crazy teen girl lusting after a crush. Fuck me!
I slam a pod into the Keurig, throw a mug under the spout, and press the button to make coffee before I whirl to face Della. “I met Payton Olsen of Olympus International at the café I like to work at on the weekends.”
“What?” she croaks, the bagel falling out of her hand and plopping cream cheese side down onto the plate sitting on the table below it. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“That’s not the half of it, Dell. He fixed my crappy work laptop that went on the fritz. Did you know he’s a tech genius?” I open the fridge and pull out the vanilla creamer as the coffee maker works its magic.
She shakes her head, blue eyes wide as her copper hair whips around her shoulders. “I just thought he’s a businessman like his brothers. So you actually met him, not just in passing?”
My cheeks heat as I think of him kind of kissing me, the way he held me to his side and touched my face. Yeah, I definitely met him. I take my cup of coffee from the machine, pop in a second pod, and make a cup for Della before I pour in an illegal amount of the magical creamer that makes the bitter brew tolerable. I shake my head to dislodge the way his touch felt and what it did to me seeing him through our video calls.
Nope, not going there. I know what handsome, rich, tech-savvy men do to my head and I won’t let this one get to me. I’ve learned my lesson and won’t repeat my mistakes. Payton Olsen can stay firmly on the other side of the line I’ve drawn for whatever this fake dating situation is, no matter how tempting he is.
“He’s the most annoyingly chipper, smiley, talkative man I’ve ever met. He wouldn’t leave me alone while he worked on my laptop. Later, he texted, called, and even FaceTimed me in rapid succession, with the same incessant chatter. He’s the absolute worst and I hate him.”
“Whoa, the same day you met, he called you , the meanest woman I know? You had a man not only chat you up but also got your number which he texted, called, and FaceTimed the same day? Were you accidentally nice to him? Did you flirt with him, or maybe smile at him instead of frown and hiss?”
“I assure you, I was myself.” I add less creamer to Della’s cup and angrily stir our coffees before flinging the spoon into the sink. I fall into a seat across from her. “He gave me not one but two annoying nicknames he’s insisting on using because I didn’t like him calling me by my full name like a total weirdo.” I take a sip of my coffee and push a cup toward her before I continue my tirade now that I’m warmed up. “He said I liked sparring with him intellectually, like he could dictate my thoughts. He’s such a condescending, arrogant asshole.” I bang my mug on the table to punctuate the last word, and coffee sloshes over the edge.
“Girl, he’s under your skin.” She laughs and shakes her head as she takes her coffee. “What the hell happened? Did you have sexy dreams about the arrogant asshole being nice to you and liking it or something?” She slides her plate with half a bagel across the table to me. “Eat something so you’re not hangry in addition to whatever that man did to get you this worked up.” She raises her eyebrows at me knowingly.
I take a sip of my coffee, figuring out how much I can tell her. It’s embarrassing as hell to explain it all, but maybe it’ll help me unravel the complicated feelings Payton has stirred up. I look at Della over the edge of my mug and she meets my gaze with patience. She’s always been that way, willing to work through my short temper and cranky reactions with calm indulgence. I don't know how I got so lucky with her.
We met by chance when I moved to Atlanta two years ago and needed a roommate. I was scared out of my mind, flat broke, didn’t know a soul, and was desperate to get away from the worst thing that had ever happened to me. She was a friend of a friend from Charleston, and we met over coffee to see if we vibed, and it worked out. She didn’t mind the surly attitude I’d picked up in New York and I could handle her plant lady tendencies. She’s a landscape designer who tends to bring her work home with her.
I look around at the fifteen plants crowding our small kitchen waiting to be taken to her next installation as if confirming my decision to give her a shortened version that doesn’t include details of our fake dating arrangement. I don't have all the information on that yet, and Payton said it had to be kept a secret.
“He flirted with me incessantly. I wanted to know why he said sparring with him was giving me a release , like, in a sexual way, right before he ended the call, which sent me into an anxiety spiral all night, so I texted to ask this morning. Of course his response was some bullshit that I was thinking about him all night, which I had to refute, so I FaceTimed him.” My cheeks heat and I take another sip of my coffee before continuing in a muffled voice. “He answered from the shower.”
“Holy shit. Did you see him naked?” She sets her bagel down on a napkin and plants her elbows on the table, leaning toward me, fully invested.
“From the abs up, which he has many of, and he’s not shy about showing off his insane body.” If I thought he was being inappropriate and flirty yesterday, today he was downright indecent. “He’s an exhibitionist who likes the sound of his voice and getting a rise out of me, and he knows that’s the way to do it. He asked me out, Dell.”
I hate not telling her the full story. Still, it’s a version of the truth that will be public knowledge soon enough when he launches whatever publicity campaign he thinks will convince the world that we’re a couple and he’s no longer an eligible bachelor.
“Seriously?” Her voice is incredulous. After a moment, a smile slowly turns up the corners of her lips as she stares at me, reading the embarrassment on my face. “You said yes, didn’t you?” She flattens her hands on the table and leans toward me. “You hate him, but you’re going out with him! Oh, this is good. A hate fuck is powerful. If you want to get laid by a hot man who likely knows how to make you scream in ecstasy and won’t expect anything from you later, this is your chance. He could be a closet freak. I don't know what it is about those cute, smiley ones.” She looks off dreamily, and I bet she’s imagining the kind of sex she likes best. I’ve heard about her sex escapades for the entirety of our friendship. I know all the smutty details whether I’ve wanted to or not.
“No.” I cut my hand through the air and bring her attention back to me from whatever sexy place it strayed. “I can’t sleep with him. I’m a journalist and I’ve written about him. It’s not ethical to get tangled up with him in any way, and I know he’s smarter than that. He’s just messing with me because he knows it gets under my skin and he’s a world-class manipulator who reads people all too well. He’s the mastermind behind all the Olympus PR and marketing, so it’s no surprise he would want to fuck with my mind knowing I write the business beat on occasion. I’m not going near that train wreck.”
“You sure about that?” she asks, smiling at me and pushing her messy hair behind her ear. “I think he wants to fuck with more than your mind. Tell me about this shower FaceTime. It sounds hot as hell.” She shifts in her seat, the conversation getting her hot and bothered. Same, girl, same .
I glower at her to hide my reaction. “Didn’t you have a date last night? You shouldn’t be this hard up for secondhand sexual stimulation if you just got laid.” I, however, need time with my vibrator while she hits up the farmer’s market later to get myself right. It might take a few rounds before I can exorcize the picture of a water demon with intense blue eyes that can see into my soul from my head. There were…So…Many…Muscles. That won’t be erased from my memory anytime soon.
She waves her hand airily at the comment. “It was a quick hookup and he wasn’t great. I’d rate him a hard four, at best. I thought from our conversations through the app that he was going to be way more adventurous, but he was vanilla. He didn’t even slap my ass or choke me when I asked him to. What is wrong with men these days? They can't even take a direct request when we tell them exactly what we want in bed.”
I arch a brow at her. “You asked him to choke you? I thought you wanted the man to take control?”
“Most men think they’re so adventurous until they’re met with a woman who knows what she wants, then they’re faced with the reality that they want the status quo. I like to feel them out and use direct communication to see how they react. If they don’t rise to the occasion when given the green light, it won’t be a repeat.”
“Sorry you dealt with that.” I have a feeling Payton is far more adventurous, but I want nothing to do with him in that regard, so it’s irrelevant.
“It’s fine, but I’m only partially satisfied and have to keep looking for the next hookup who will treat me like a queen in public and leave handprints on my ass in private. Dating these days is so hard.” She slumps back in her chair and I burst out laughing until she joins me.
When I rein in my laughter, I raise my mug, feeling less cranky. “It’s a good thing I gave up dating and this Payton thing isn’t going anywhere.” The honest thought falls from my lips before I can think better of it. Shit. That won’t help sell our relationship later on. Or maybe it will, given what Della knows about my stance on dating.
Her blue eyes soften with concern as she takes me in. “I wish you’d rethink that. It’s been too long, Ains. Not one date since you moved to Atlanta. You’re too young to have sworn off men,” she says, leaning toward me. “Maybe going out with Payton will be a way to dip your toe in as he weaves sex into your conversations while answering FaceTime calls in the shower.” She raises a brow at me and fans her pink face, her scattering of copper freckles standing out on her smooth cheeks.
“It’s not good for my journalistic integrity to consider sleeping with one of the subjects of my stories.” I look away from her intense stare, feeling uncomfortable even considering this. It’s also a bad idea for me to think of fucking a man like Payton for other reasons that have everything to do with my dating mistakes that have kept me on the straight and narrow. Sex complicates everything, especially with a history like mine. I know my limits.
“Oh, please. Like that’s stopped anyone in the past, it’s not like you write about him, personally, right? You write about his company, their projects, and acquisitions, that kind of stuff. It would be different if you were writing about Payton Olsen, the man, instead of Olympus International, the business. Possible workaround?” She raises a shoulder at me and smiles wickedly.
“Stop trying to make this happen. I don't need anyone telling me what to do.” I take a bite of the bagel she pushed over to me.
“I just want you to have every opportunity to enjoy yourself, in whatever way that looks like. You’ve been so focused on work, and the Gazette has been a shitty alternative to what you could have had before everything went down the way it did in New York. Allow yourself to do something bigger and better, finally. You’ve more than earned it, and you deserve it. Both professionally and personally, it’s time to try again. Maybe going out with Payton will be the push you need to get out of that black time for both.”
“Stop,” I say, brushing off her well-meaning words. “Payton’s an annoyance that’s popped up in my life like a bad penny, and it’s not so I can ride his dick or use him to get ahead with my career.”
“That’s not what I’m saying—”
My phone vibrating on the table next to my mug cuts her off. We both look down at it and she chokes out a laugh when she sees the name on the screen with the FaceTime request.
“Well, it looks like your annoying new friend wants another chance to video chat. Maybe he’ll start with the lower half of his body this time and you’ll see what he’s packing and decide if it’s worth it to get back into the dating pool for that alone.”
“Shut up." My cheeks heat as I snatch the phone and leave the kitchen, heading for my room as she laughs at my retreating back.
“At least let him take you out and show you what his intentions are. Just go with it!” she yells before I slam my door.
I swipe to accept the call. “What?” I snap, mad at what Della said but taking it out on Payton. He deserves it, anyway.
“Still so grumpy? I thought I gave you plenty of time to handle your business and unwind.”
I roll my neck, feeling more than the tension he’s referring to, trying to get my emotions under control. I’m a professional. I have a solid poker face, and I can usually keep my reactions in check and make it through any interaction without letting them get the better of me, annoying caller be damned. He manages to get under my skin so easily, despite all that.
“This is how I am. If you want to fake date me, get used to it,” I snap, running a hand through my hair and pacing around my small room.
“I’m not complaining. I like you just the way you are. I just thought you’d be a little…less on edge if you did what I expected you to. Unless you like being edged. Which I can work with.”
“Payton,” I warn, my eyes meeting his, humor crinkling the corners. “I don’t want this to turn into another conversation full of innuendo and sexual overtures. Stop it right now.”
“Anything for you, Muffin,” he agrees with a slow smile and darkening of eyes that dry my mouth more effectively than his playful, sexually explicit words managed to. “Are you working today?”
“No. It’s Sunday. Even I manage to take a day off. I bet you’re working because you don’t have a life,” I deflect.
“Good. I’m coming to get you. We’re going to the lake for the day. I need to get out of the city and we need to work out our relationship details. I’ll be there in ten.”
“What? No! How do you even know where I live?” Horror jacks up my heart rate as I look around my room and then down at myself, still in pajamas.
“You put your address in your contact yesterday like a very good girl.”
I narrow my eyes at him calling me a good girl like a fucking dog despite the quickening of my pulse at the words. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Nine minutes, Spitfire. Put on your favorite bikini. It’s time we start this fake relationship. I’ll text you when I’m outside your apartment. Don’t make me wait or I’ll come up and get you myself.” He ends the call and I’m left staring at the blank screen, my body shaking with adrenaline at the thought of Payton on his way to pick me up to take me out to a lake. What the fuck? I’m overwhelmed and unable to process. I can’t do this on my own.
“Della!” I yell, opening the door before turning back and looking at my room without knowing what to do first.
What the hell is wrong with the man, and why am I falling into the web he’s weaving around me? I’m smarter than this. Yet…I’m too curious to know who the real Payton Olsen is to give up the opportunity to find out when he’s providing it to me on a silver platter. There’s a story in there somewhere, and I can unlock it, all his sexual innuendo be damned. And he’s right, we have to work out the details of our fake relationship before we start pretending. God, that makes me feel so shitty to even think about it because I’m curious enough to go along with his dumb plan.
“What’s wrong?” she says, hurrying into the room and seeing me on the edge of a panic attack. “What did he say this time?” She suppresses a smile as I vibrate in frustration.
“That jackass is on his way to pick me up to take me to the lake. In ten minutes. I did not consent to go anywhere with him. He’s such a jerk. What do I wear?”
She bursts into laughter and walks me back to my rumpled bed to sit. “I think asking what you should wear is giving consent, Ains. If you didn’t want to go, you wouldn’t even be worried about that. You have clean bikinis, right?”
“Of course. Top left drawer. But how dare he make decisions for me when I want nothing to do with him? He’s unbelievable.”
Della throws a white bikini on the bed along with a few more items. “Put that on and brush your hair. I’ll get sunscreen and a towel. You have flip-flops by the door. You’ll be fine. Just have fun, don’t think too hard about this, and enjoy your day at the lake, whether or not you want to call it a date.”
“Dell, what am I doing?” I ask, panic setting in again. Maybe getting his story isn’t worth my sanity. Payton sets me on edge. He gets under my skin, slides through my defenses, and penetrates my guarded walls with ease, and it pisses me off. I don't want him inside with me, seeing what I keep buried, or why it needs to stay locked up.
“You’re having something called fun that most people partake in on a regular basis. It’s good for you. You need it more than most. Please, I beg you, let down your guard enough to enjoy yourself a little bit, for me. Now scoot. You have a few minutes left if your countdown is correct.”
I look at my phone and gasp. He’ll be here in three minutes. I grab the clothing she picked and race into the bathroom to change. I brush my teeth, splash water on my face, run a brush through my hair, and grab my pink Yankees hat just as my phone vibrates with a new text.
Annoying Payton: I’m outside. Ready for me, or do I need to come get you?
I roll my eyes as my heart slams against my ribs. I type out a hasty reply.
Me: Don’t get your panties in a twist, asshole. I’ll be down in a minute.
Annoying Payton: I’m not wearing panties, and I sure hope you aren’t.
Me: Fuck you.
Annoying Payton: Nice choice of words. Want to explore that later?
I ignore his text as heat simmers in my veins and throbs low in my body. That man is all sex, all the time, and it’s getting me worked up more than I care to admit.