Take Me (The Submission Games Book 2) Page 18

  She tilts her head. “TMI time? How long’s it been since you had sex?”

  I twirl the end of my ponytail and pull it over my collarbone. “Maybe I’m saving myself for marriage.”

  Alex snorts. “You have to be a virgin to do that, and I know you’ve fucked at least two guys since we met.”

  “I’ve had two boyfriends, yes, who I slept with, but we didn’t fuck. That’s gauche.” And way too exciting a description for the things we did in the bedroom once or twice every couple of weeks. I’d expected something...different, but when my second boyfriend’s performance was on par with the first, I realized I needed to lower my expectations. Regular sex or not, I was still pulling out my vibrator to really take care of things myself. I mean, the act of sex is fine, nice for bonding with someone, I guess, but I’ve never seen what the fuss is about.

  “It’s gauche if you’re doing it right.” Alex’s eyes twinkle.

  I adjust my infinity scarf and look at him again, accidentally making eye contact, feeling the weight of his gaze sizzling all the way to my core. It’s too intimate, penetrating, and I force myself to focus on the tabletop in front of me. What is it about this guy? Not my type, but there’s something mesmerizing about him.

  “He’s totally checking you out too.”

  Heart speeding up, I reach for my empty glass and gesture at the server for another round of the same. “He caught me staring, is all. Guys like him don’t go for girls like me.”

  She leans closer. “Guys like him love girls like you. Look at yourself. Minimal makeup, long hair in a simple ponytail. Skinny jeans showing off your hips and ass, but your long sleeved V-neck and a scarf hide any cleavage. You’re a good girl. Big brown doe eyes. Face it, Rachel, you’re Snow White with a tight ass. You’re the pretty, uptight girl every man wants to corrupt.”

  Gross. “If that were true, someone would have tried before now. Not that I’d have accepted.”

  “Your mind’s so occupied by music, you wouldn’t have noticed them hitting on you. When a straight guy says, ‘Nice scarf,’ he’s only using it as an excuse to stare at your tits. He doesn’t give a crap about your accessories.”

  Maybe she’s onto something there. But it’s too late for all that. I have other commitments now. Specifically, one very big commitment.

  “It doesn’t matter anyways. I’m leaving in a few days and have too much to do before then.” Strange, the sadness that follows that thought. My blood sugar must be low to be sad about a non-existent one-night-stand. I’ve been burning more calories than usual the past few days, and didn’t eat lunch today. The wine’s going straight to my head. “Should we grab a slice of pizza after this?”

  Alex shrugs. “Let’s see how the night plays out.”

  The server arrives with our next round, preventing me from asking what she meant by that. I hope she’s not planning on dragging me to one of those after-hours places again. The sampled strings over the crashing beats depressed me more than made me want to dance.

  When he sets her beer in front of her, Alex pulls the waiter close, whispering something in his ear.

  Ah, now I get it. He’s cute, maybe a bit skinnier than the guys she typically goes for, but definitely not outside her wheelhouse of interest. While it’s one of our last times to hang out, if she made a date for later that’s fine by me. I’m still going to turn the tables a little, though.

  I wait for the server to leave before waggling my eyebrows. “You little minx.”

  Alex stops grinning and tears her gaze from the server’s retreating ass to look at me. “What?”

  “What was that about?”

  Her brow furrows. “What was what about?”

  “Hitting on our waiter? Are you trying to give me a real world example of how it’s done?”

  “I’ve created a monster. I wasn’t hitting on him. I told him to make sure that I got the bill, but the fact your mind immediately dove into the gutter shows how desperately you need to get banged.”

  “I may spend way too much time alone with a stringed instrument, but that didn’t look like ‘I’ll get the tab’ to me.”

  She stands and stretches. “I plead the fifth. I’ve got to hit the ladies room, watch my purse?”

  “Sure.”

  She sashays away, and the difference between us is highlighted again. In another world she’s the conservative musician and I’m the flirtatious girl who goes for the things she wants with no regrets. I don’t sit by the windows playing heartbreakingly beautiful songs written hundreds of years ago. I don’t wonder what it’s like to throw caution to the wind without worrying about what people think. The pressure of perfectionism and expectations don’t nearly break my feet with the weight of every step I take.

  But we’re not in that world.

  And as much fun as I have with Alex, I wouldn’t want her life. I’ve worked too hard for mine.

  I can’t help myself from looking back at Tattooed Guy. He winks at me. I look away as quickly as I can, not wanting to give him the wrong idea. This won’t lead anywhere, but I do sort of like these electric gazes at each other.

  If Alex liked him, she’d strut over there and make conversation, be utterly charming and fun and even leave with him—if she wanted.

  But I’m not Alex, I’m Rachel, so I look away and focus on the framed micro-brewery awards on the wall. Now closer to eleven o’clock, more people stream into the bar, taking up seats, taking up space, taking the quiet atmosphere and charging it to the beat of the faster music chugging through the speakers. I miss the solemn hum of my cello, filling my apartment with only the sounds I create.

  Even that’s changed, now that most of my place is packed up. The acoustics are off, rendering familiar music foreign again in subtle ways.

  How would it feel to kiss a man like Tattooed Guy? Or touch. Or fu—

  “I’m back, what did I miss?” Alex adjusts the strap of her tank top and sits down again.

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing at all? Not even with your friend over there?” She sips her beer oh-so-casually.

  Prompted, I look over at him again as the waiter sets a full beer on his table. Tattooed Guy raises his beer in a private cheers and winks.

  A shiver runs down my spine. He’s so...brazen.

  Alex cackles.

  That can’t be good. I’m immediately suspicious. “What’s going on?”

  “Seems like the sexy stranger is trying to get your attention.”

  Sure enough, when I look over he gives a small wave. I don’t wave back. “What did you do?”

  She holds her hands up, feigning innocence. “You bought him a drink. Go over there and take credit.”

  Her conversation with the waiter... “Alex! Why would you do that?” I fiddle with my scarf, suddenly too warm with mild mortification.

  “Oh, come on, it’s harmless.” She dismisses my argument, shrugging one shoulder like it’s no big deal.

  “He thinks I like him!”

  “Don’t you?”

  I can’t like someone I don’t even know, even if he is...magnetic. “I—that’s not the point.”

  She sighs, suddenly serious. “Rachel, I created an opportunity for you because I knew you’d never open the door yourself. That’s all it is. You just have to walk through it. What’s the worst thing that could happen if you go and talk to the guy?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “You bought him a drink and said it was from me so I’d go and talk to him?”

  She giggles. “Fine, I’m busted, talk is cheap. I want you to ravage him! I want you to leave this place with a big, dirty fuck you’ll still remember when you’re eighty years old. I know there’s a secret freak in there screaming to come out and play. A lady doesn’t spread her legs that wide on stage for everyone to see if she doesn’t have a wild streak.”

  I close my eyes and shake my head. “I eagerly await the day you run out of cello jokes.”

  “And I eagerly await you getting it on with that scruffy delight of a b
eefcake. For once in your life experience someone who cares more about your body than your bowing technique.”

  “Hey, I’ve—”

  “Nope. You never follow your baser instincts. For tonight only, be impulsive! Instead of comparing resumes and five year plans, listen to your body and treat him like... like lust is a song you’re playing together. But not overplayed, over-practiced, lifeless notes you know by heart. Spontaneous like jazz.”

  I blot my palms on my jeans. “You know how I feel about jazz. It breaks too many rules that are there for a reason.”

  She stops what was going to be a longer rant with a hand on my forearm. “I’m trying to speak your language. Throw me a bone here.”

  “Is this really that important to you?”

  “It’s...I won’t be there with you in Boston, but I can see how it’s going to go. How it could go. You’re getting the job you want, but maybe it’s a little bland devoting your life so completely to it. We’re young, we’re supposed to be floundering around a bit, screwing up and taking names! Taking names and screwing people. I’d hate for you to be so focused on the end result that your life becomes a means to an end.”

  I didn’t know she was so worried about my goal-oriented nature. Her words should sting, but they resonate more than anything. “Thank you for caring so much.”

  “Someone’s got to be the voice of chaos in your starchy life.” She grins.

  “But there’s no guarantee he’s even interested in me.”

  “Snow White. With a tight ass.” She moves her hands like a conductor drawing the song to a close.

  “Don’t make that my catch-phrase.”

  “You should have business cards made.”

  The thing about Alex is it’s impossible to get mad at her—even when you should be. This time when I sneak a glance, the sexy guy smiles at me, revealing even, white teeth and a dimple on his left cheek. Goddamn, he’s delicious.

  “Careful, Rachel. He might think you’re going steady if you keep looking at him like that. Time to raise the stakes and flash him an ankle.” She clutches fake pearls, acting scandalized.

  “Excuse me, girls, sorry to interrupt,” the waiter cuts off my witty retort.

  “Yes?” Alex trills like she was expecting this all along.

  He leans closer to me and gestures at the stranger “I” bought a beer, who jerks his head up in a nod of recognition. “That gentleman has requested you join him.”

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