New York Nights
Page 21
I slid off the sink and looked at my own face—flushed cheeks, wild hair, runny mascara—and pulled my bra straps back over my shoulder. Before I could pull up my dress straps, Andrew moved my hand away and pulled them up for me.
Our eyes met in the mirror as he smoothed my hair, and for a split second he turned away—to pick up my headband. He gently held it over my head and slid it into place, and then he walked away.
“You know, it’s rude to just leave someone after sex without saying anything,” I muttered.
“What?” His hand was on the doorknob.
“Nothing.”
“What did you say?” He cocked his head to the side. “I’m not a mind reader.”
“I said it’s rude to just leave after you fuck me. You could at least say something, anything.”
“I don’t do pillow talk.”
“It’s not pillow talk.” I scoffed. “It’s part of being a gentleman.”
“I never said I was a gentleman.”
I sighed and turned around. I waited to hear the door close, but his hands were suddenly on my waist and he was spinning me around to face him.
“What am I supposed to say after I fuck you, Aubrey?”
“You could ask if it was good for me or not...”
“I don’t believe in asking pointless questions.” He looked at his watch. “How long do you have to stay here?”
“Another hour or so.”
“Hmmm.” He was quiet. “And while you were stalking me and my date how many shots did you have?”
“I wasn’t stalking you and your date. I’ve been avoiding you all week, or haven’t you noticed?”
“How many?”
“Five.”
“Okay.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ll take you home whenever you’re ready and have someone deliver your car to your apartment tomorrow.” He planted a kiss on my forehead before heading to the door. “Just call me.”
“Wait,” I said as he opened it. “What about your date?”
“What about her?”
An hour later, I slipped inside of Andrew’s car—a sleek black Jaguar. He held the door open until I was comfortable, and waited until I put on my seatbelt before shutting it.
On his dashboard, I spotted a red folder with a New York State seal on its center. I picked it up, but he immediately took it from me and locked it inside his glove box.
He looked offended that I’d touched it, but he quickly turned away from me and revved up the car.
“Can I ask you something, Andrew?”
“Depends on what it is.”
“I googled you this week and nothing came up...”
“That’s not a question.”
“Why didn’t anything come up?” I looked over at him.
“Because I’m thirty-two years old and I don’t waste my time on Facebook and Twitter.”
I sighed. “And you really haven’t spoken to her in six years?”
“Excuse me?” He looked over at me as we approached a red light. “I thought we just sorted this out in the bathroom.”
“We did, but—” I cleared my throat. “You filed for a divorce, and it couldn’t go through?”
“It takes two people to complete a divorce, Aubrey. Surely you know that.”
“Yes, but...” I ignored the fact that he was clenching his jaw. “Wouldn’t it be easier for someone like you to make it happen? Six years is a pretty long time to stay married to someone you claim you don’t love anymore, so—”
“You’d be surprised at how well some people can spin a fucking lie to get what they want,” he said, his voice cold. “My past isn’t up for discussion.”
“Ever?”
“Ever. It has nothing to do with you.”
I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms. “Are you ever going to tell me the reason why you left New York and moved to Durham?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have to.” He steered the car into my apartment complex. “Because like I told you an hour ago, that part of my life never happened.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone. I just—”
“Stop it.” He faced me as he stopped the car, and I could see a world of hurt in his eyes. It was the most vulnerable I’d ever seen him.
“I lost something very special in New York six years ago.” There was regret in his voice. “Something I’ll never fucking get back, something I’ve spent the last six years trying to forget, and if it’s okay with you I’d like to make it to year seven.”
I opened my mouth to say sorry, but he continued talking.
“I’m not sure if I’ve made this apparent over the past six months or not,” he said, “but I’m not the ‘sit up and talk about my feelings’ type. I’m not interested in deep conversations and just because I’ve fucked you more than once and can’t seem to get you or your mouth off my mind, that doesn’t entitle you to things I haven’t told anyone else.”
I immediately unbuckled my seatbelt and flung the door open, but he grabbed my wrist before I could get out.
“I meant what I said a few months ago, Aubrey...” He cupped my chin and tilted my head toward him. “You are my only friend in this city, but you have to understand that I’m not used to having friends. I’m not used to talking about personal shit, and I’m not going to start now.”
Silence.
“If you’re not going to open up to me, what incentive do I have to continue being your so-called friend?”
He said nothing for a few seconds, but then he smirked. “Get in my lap and let me show you.”
“Is this a joke?”
“Am I laughing?”
“Do you really think you can just demand for me to have sex with you whenever you want?” I raised my eyebrow. “Especially since you just said you’ll never be that open about your personal life?”
“Yes.” He unbuckled his seat belt. “Get in my lap.”
“You know...” I looked down, noticing his cock slowly stiffening through his pants. “I've let a few things slide the past few times we've had sex, but I have to tell you...” I bit my lip as I slipped out of the car. “I'm really not into the possessive caveman shit.”
He narrowed his eyes at me as I grabbed my purse and stepped back.
“I think we need to give your cock a rest, don't you think?” I crossed my arms. “You have a pretty big hearing coming up next week. Don't you need to save all your energy so you can be better prepared?”
“Get back in the damn car, Aubrey...” His voice was strained.
“Are you begging me?”
“I'm commanding you.”
“Did you not hear what I just said?”
He didn't answer. He reached for my hand, but I shut the door.
“I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Hamilton.” I smiled and walked away.
Liability (n.):
Legal responsibilities for one’s acts or omissions.
Our eyes met in the mirror as he smoothed my hair, and for a split second he turned away—to pick up my headband. He gently held it over my head and slid it into place, and then he walked away.
“You know, it’s rude to just leave someone after sex without saying anything,” I muttered.
“What?” His hand was on the doorknob.
“Nothing.”
“What did you say?” He cocked his head to the side. “I’m not a mind reader.”
“I said it’s rude to just leave after you fuck me. You could at least say something, anything.”
“I don’t do pillow talk.”
“It’s not pillow talk.” I scoffed. “It’s part of being a gentleman.”
“I never said I was a gentleman.”
I sighed and turned around. I waited to hear the door close, but his hands were suddenly on my waist and he was spinning me around to face him.
“What am I supposed to say after I fuck you, Aubrey?”
“You could ask if it was good for me or not...”
“I don’t believe in asking pointless questions.” He looked at his watch. “How long do you have to stay here?”
“Another hour or so.”
“Hmmm.” He was quiet. “And while you were stalking me and my date how many shots did you have?”
“I wasn’t stalking you and your date. I’ve been avoiding you all week, or haven’t you noticed?”
“How many?”
“Five.”
“Okay.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ll take you home whenever you’re ready and have someone deliver your car to your apartment tomorrow.” He planted a kiss on my forehead before heading to the door. “Just call me.”
“Wait,” I said as he opened it. “What about your date?”
“What about her?”
An hour later, I slipped inside of Andrew’s car—a sleek black Jaguar. He held the door open until I was comfortable, and waited until I put on my seatbelt before shutting it.
On his dashboard, I spotted a red folder with a New York State seal on its center. I picked it up, but he immediately took it from me and locked it inside his glove box.
He looked offended that I’d touched it, but he quickly turned away from me and revved up the car.
“Can I ask you something, Andrew?”
“Depends on what it is.”
“I googled you this week and nothing came up...”
“That’s not a question.”
“Why didn’t anything come up?” I looked over at him.
“Because I’m thirty-two years old and I don’t waste my time on Facebook and Twitter.”
I sighed. “And you really haven’t spoken to her in six years?”
“Excuse me?” He looked over at me as we approached a red light. “I thought we just sorted this out in the bathroom.”
“We did, but—” I cleared my throat. “You filed for a divorce, and it couldn’t go through?”
“It takes two people to complete a divorce, Aubrey. Surely you know that.”
“Yes, but...” I ignored the fact that he was clenching his jaw. “Wouldn’t it be easier for someone like you to make it happen? Six years is a pretty long time to stay married to someone you claim you don’t love anymore, so—”
“You’d be surprised at how well some people can spin a fucking lie to get what they want,” he said, his voice cold. “My past isn’t up for discussion.”
“Ever?”
“Ever. It has nothing to do with you.”
I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms. “Are you ever going to tell me the reason why you left New York and moved to Durham?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have to.” He steered the car into my apartment complex. “Because like I told you an hour ago, that part of my life never happened.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone. I just—”
“Stop it.” He faced me as he stopped the car, and I could see a world of hurt in his eyes. It was the most vulnerable I’d ever seen him.
“I lost something very special in New York six years ago.” There was regret in his voice. “Something I’ll never fucking get back, something I’ve spent the last six years trying to forget, and if it’s okay with you I’d like to make it to year seven.”
I opened my mouth to say sorry, but he continued talking.
“I’m not sure if I’ve made this apparent over the past six months or not,” he said, “but I’m not the ‘sit up and talk about my feelings’ type. I’m not interested in deep conversations and just because I’ve fucked you more than once and can’t seem to get you or your mouth off my mind, that doesn’t entitle you to things I haven’t told anyone else.”
I immediately unbuckled my seatbelt and flung the door open, but he grabbed my wrist before I could get out.
“I meant what I said a few months ago, Aubrey...” He cupped my chin and tilted my head toward him. “You are my only friend in this city, but you have to understand that I’m not used to having friends. I’m not used to talking about personal shit, and I’m not going to start now.”
Silence.
“If you’re not going to open up to me, what incentive do I have to continue being your so-called friend?”
He said nothing for a few seconds, but then he smirked. “Get in my lap and let me show you.”
“Is this a joke?”
“Am I laughing?”
“Do you really think you can just demand for me to have sex with you whenever you want?” I raised my eyebrow. “Especially since you just said you’ll never be that open about your personal life?”
“Yes.” He unbuckled his seat belt. “Get in my lap.”
“You know...” I looked down, noticing his cock slowly stiffening through his pants. “I've let a few things slide the past few times we've had sex, but I have to tell you...” I bit my lip as I slipped out of the car. “I'm really not into the possessive caveman shit.”
He narrowed his eyes at me as I grabbed my purse and stepped back.
“I think we need to give your cock a rest, don't you think?” I crossed my arms. “You have a pretty big hearing coming up next week. Don't you need to save all your energy so you can be better prepared?”
“Get back in the damn car, Aubrey...” His voice was strained.
“Are you begging me?”
“I'm commanding you.”
“Did you not hear what I just said?”
He didn't answer. He reached for my hand, but I shut the door.
“I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Hamilton.” I smiled and walked away.
Liability (n.):
Legal responsibilities for one’s acts or omissions.
