But Ransom puts an end to those troubling thoughts when he pulls back and sets me on my feet. I am a mess. My clothes are bunched around my waist, my underwear hanging in useless strings, and his cum is leaking down my thighs. He didn’t use a condom this time, and I thank whoever is listening above that I had enough sense to get on birth control. When I look at myself in the mirror, there is cherry red lipstick smeared across my face, which is the icing to my disheveled state.
The same goes for Ransom, but even rumpled and stained crimson, he is completely edible.
“You know, as much as I enjoy these little rendezvous, we really must stop meeting up like this,” I say as I begin cleaning myself up.
After zipping himself back up, Ransom positions himself beside the sink, lifting one arm in the air to press against the wall. With his suit jacket hanging open to expose the white shirt beneath and the expensive silver buckle on the black leather belt circling his narrow waist, he looks like he belongs on the cover of GQ.
“What do you mean?”
“I say, for public decency’s sake, we should probably keep our activities confined to a bed. Yours perhaps? I’ve never seen your apartment.”
Instantly, he throws up an invisible wall and I know I’ve said the wrong thing, pushed him too hard. “And you won’t.”
His harsh tone confounds me and I watch in disbelief as he straightens. Refusing to look at me as he fastens the single button on his jacket and walks toward the door.
“You’ll forgive me,” he says firmly, “but I have business to attend to.”
My mouth gapes open, but no words come out. After what we just did, I thought we were in a good place.
When am I going to learn that sex isn’t a magic fix? It doesn’t mend relationships. Rather, it’s like plugging a hole in a sinking ship with caulk—utterly ineffective. As soon as you stop filling the hole, it begins leaking again.
Once I put myself back together again enough to return to the floor, I don’t bother looking around for him. Ransom is long gone and I’m not in the mood to chase after him. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe this is the wake-up call I need to realize that it’s time to let go of something that was never going to be.
NINETEEN
I can’t get the strange look Ransom shot me, when I declined his invitation to meet him after class, out of my head. It’s almost as if he didn’t understand why I might be upset with him. At the very least, he should recognize that walking away from a woman in the middle of a discussion, directly following hot and heavy sex, is definite grounds for a problem. That he doesn’t shouldn’t be a surprise to me, but it is. I was just starting to get used to New Ransom, and then Old, Callous Ransom reared his head again.
Worst of all, I like both sides of him. I like his overbearing, bullheaded, take-charge attitude just as much as I like the more subdued, almost domestic side of his personality.
That’s where I made my first mistake. I allowed myself to get comfortable and forget who he really was. What this really is. Sex. Nothing more than good, casual sex. What happened in the bathroom is the perfect example of what we are. It would be prudent of me to not forget that again.
Over the course of the last week, I have lost my best friend and the boyfriend I thought I had. My world feels like it’s imploding. A smart person would point out that I am clearly the problem in at least one of those equations and it’s fully within my power to fix it.
I am not a smart person. Clearly. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be standing in the middle of a crowded bar on a Friday night ordering another pitcher for the table I am sharing with a guy who I know has feelings for me—the kind I don’t return.
My life is like a train speeding down unfinished tracks. One of these days, it will hit the end and plunge into the abyss. I need to stomp on the brakes now, but my common sense has fallen asleep at the wheel.
Brody jumps out of his seat as I walk up with my hands full and takes the pitchers. “I brought two,” I state the obvious as I drop into the hardwood chair.
“So we won’t run out.” Brody taps his temple. “Excellent thinking, J.”
I mock bow. Well, as much as I can given my seated position. “As always, I aim to please.”
Brody’s eyes flicker with appreciation as he scans my appearance. “Have I told you how good you look tonight?”
Topping off my glass, I respond coyly. “Only twenty times or so, but hearing it never gets old. You may refresh my memory.”
“You look really good tonight.”
I wink at him, and instantly regret it. I’m leading Brody on, giving him false hope. There must be something wrong with me because I can’t seem to help myself. I’m a shameless flirt. Maybe that’s why Ransom warned me against other men, because he knows it’s as much my fault as it is theirs?