Breaking Even(66)

Oh. That’s the conversation I was expecting. And it sucks a lot worse than I thought it would. But I prefer the hard, cold, brutal truth, no matter how ugly it is.

“It’s fine, Rye. You can be honest. Don’t start trying to spare me by building me up and putting yourself down. I hate that speech. You keep acting as though I’m going to break every time someone makes me feel small, but I won’t. Never have. Never will. So stop.”

He smiles at me, and then he leans over and kisses me. He’s so damn confusing. His lips work against mine for a moment before his tongue slips in, and then he starts pulling me onto his lap.

“You think I’m lying?” he asks, slowly sliding the bottom of my dress up enough to put his hands on my ass.

Since I’m wearing the thongs, his hands find my skin, and I almost moan.

“I think you’re trying to keep me from getting my feelings hurt. Just like you always do. It’s sweet, but unnecessary.”

His tongue slips between my lips again, and he pulls me tighter to his body. “I’m not lying,” he says, barely parting his lips from mine. “I’m not sparing you. I’m telling you the truth. I’ve never done the relationship thing, and to be honest, I never cared. But you... I wish I could be that guy. I’ve been struggling with what to do all day.”

He takes a deep breath as his hand go to my hair, his fingers tangling in the threads, and his eyes study mine. Then he continues.

“But I’ll fuck up. I know I will. And then I’ll lose you. And I really, really like having you around. So I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep and have you hate me when I fuck up. I’m simple. You’re the girl who wants it all, and you sure as hell deserve it, Brin. I’m just not that kind of guy.”

He starts kissing my neck, contradicting his words. I can’t tell if he’s dumping me or begging me to tell him what he wants to hear. And he frigging claims to be simple.

So I do the only thing I know to do. I lie my ass off.

“I never had the chance to have fun, Rye. That’s all I want to do. I’ve only been divorced for a year, and I got married young. I’m not looking for a serious relationship. Have I said anything like that to you?”

He pulls back and stares me in the eyes again as he studies me under the moonlight.

“Are you being serious?” he asks after an eternity of silence.

“Very,” I lie again.

His lips almost bruise mine with the next hungry kiss, and my hands go to his hair. I’ve just thrown my heart into a blender. It won’t be long until the button is pressed and my heart is pureed. But I can’t just stop. Not when I’ve never felt like this with someone.

I don’t feel used. I don’t feel like a disappointment when he’s with me. And I don’t feel like the girl someone is passing the time with.

Even if it’s just an illusion, it feels like he wants to be with me as much as I want to be with him. And it’s hard to let go of something that I’ve always wanted to feel.

“Can we get out of here?” he asks, breaking the kiss and breathing just as heavily as I am.

“Please.”

He starts to stand, but stops, pulling me back down as he tugs at my dress. “And, Brin, don’t do this again.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Don’t do what?”

“This. The hair, the lipstick, the dress you don’t really want to be wearing. I prefer the real Brin.”

That’s a relief, because I’m not overly fond of the fake Brin. I notice he doesn’t say anything about not wearing the slinky panties again, but I can give him that. Especially since I actually enjoy feeling his hands against my skin.

“I prefer being the real Brin. I just knew everyone else would be questioning why you were here with me. Just like Leah did.”

He runs his fingers over my arms, dragging them up and down in practiced motions.

“That’s bullshit. You’re beautiful when you’re just you.”

Okay. So that just makes it all worth it. I really don’t think anyone has ever called me beautiful, and I know I look like a dork grinning right now.

He smiles as he stands up and pulls me to my feet, but as we walk away, my lie sinks in. I just told him I didn’t want anything but fun. Then again, life is nothing but a series of settlements.

I can settle for being his no matter how brief it is. As long as it’s just me.

“I only have one rule,” I say as we make our way toward his car.

“A rule?” he muses, threading our fingers together.

“If we’re having sex without condoms, you can’t be having sex with someone else.”