Out of the Storm(26)

"I want to trust you, Jules, but for some reason we got disconnected, and it took you a long fucking time to call me back, and you've given me no explanation as to what the fuck you were doing during that time." His voice cracks. "I was so worried about you, and you're acting like nothing happened. But I can feel it, something isn't right. And I'll tell you I'm holding my cock wanting to stroke it while thinking about you, Jules. I want to do this with you, but you need to answer my question first."



       
         
       
        

"Answer what?" I ask, starting to squirm with need.

"The elevator was stuck for minutes, and I couldn't reach you. I called twice."

"My ringer was off."

He growls. "Were you in the elevator, Jules? Tell me what the fuck happened in there. Who were you with? You want me to trust you, then you need to be straight with me about the lapse in time between our calls."

I sigh. "I can't. I'm sorry."

"Good night, Jules." He hangs up as I close my eyes, a tear trickling down. There's no point in calling him back. There's nothing left to say tonight. Swiping the screen, I erase his calls from my history, then put my phone on my nightstand.

Another tear seeps onto my pillow. And another. Rolling over, I bury my face and let the emotions from the day consume me until the intense stinging keeps me from keeping them open anymore. That's when I play the highlight reel of all the many moments I had tonight with Theo that felt so good, so right, until I finally drift off to sleep wishing he were beside me, kissing my hair, telling me the sky isn't about to fall-that my life isn't about to crumble.

I need him to let me know we're okay. Or else, I'm going to have no choice but to pursue other options. And they won't involve him.





I barely slept last night. Trying to get my brain to shut off was nearly impossible. It kept attempting to figure out what my next move would be, whether Jules was really into me or playing games, and what the hell happened on that elevator. She didn't deny she'd been on it. Why would she not just tell me?

Sitting at the bar, images of her sprawled out right here fill my mind. I push my glasses up on the bridge of my nose, roll my sleeves up, and toss my tie over my shoulder as I take a bite of my hot oatmeal.

I'm not sure if we're still having our meeting, or not, but one thing is for sure. She asked for me to wear my glasses, and I'm going to do it. I'm going to make it my mission to look as sexy as I can for her, to remind her what we had last night before she left me. After I dropped her off to go back to her car, it all turned to shit. Not that part. She needs to remember what we were like here.

My phone rings. I glance at the screen, some part of me hoping it's her, but it's not. It's fucking Marco. Swiping to answer, I put it to my ear. "What do you want?"

"Who pissed on your Cheerios, dude?"

"No one." Jules. Him. The universe. "I'm just not in the mood to play your little games this morning. Especially after you fucking hung up on me last night."

"You're mad about that?" 

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Do you think this is some sort of fun little game?"

He breathes into the phone. "No."

"Don't ever do that again, or I'm out." He doesn't need to know that it's a bluff, that even if I wanted out, I'm so deep in this shit, I may never be able to dig my way to the top.

"Yeah, okay. Sorry. I was just playin'."

"You play too much sometimes." It's hard to stay mad at him sometimes too. "How was your date?" I take a bite of my oatmeal. "Did you get a piece of ass?"

He laughs. "It was good. No piece of ass. Just pussy."

Slamming my hand into my forehead, I close my eyes. "TMI. TMI."

"You asked."

I cringe. "I know I did." And ordinarily, I don't think it'd bother me. But when I open my eyes, I'm staring at the spot where I had Jules on my counter, and she's all I can think about. "I met Jules last night."

"Fucking beautiful, Jules. I'd like a piece of her ass. Or pussy. I'm not picky."

Dropping my spoon into the bowl, I ball my fists. "She's more than taken. Stay away from her. Do you understand me?"

"Touchy, touchy. You're so sensitive this morning. What the fuck happened to you last night?"

I push the bowl of oatmeal away, my appetite having fled the moment Marco mentioned eating Jules out. The thought alone causes my stomach to sour. "Nothing. I don't want to talk about it." The reality is, I can't trust Marco to not open his mouth and say something that might blow everything. I shouldn't have even mentioned having met Jules. "Don't say anything to anyone about me seeing her. Got it?"

He sighs. "Who would I tell and why would I?"

"That's not the response I was looking for from you, Marco. Do not tell anyone I even know her. Do. You. Understand?"

"Yeah. Okay."

My head starts to pound. I massage my temples. "What are you planning to do today other than work?"

"The girl I went out with last night, I'm taking her out again tonight."

"Oh. What's her name?"

"Anna."

"I see."

"She's gorgeous. And a spitfire. You're gonna be jealous she's mine and not yours." No. I'm not the least bit jealous. I'm only jealous of one motherfucker. He's got the only one I want.

"I need to get into the office, prepare for a meeting I have at noon." Again, I'm not sure if this is going to go down, but I need to be ready. And right now, I have no fucking clue how I'm going to establish this account to keep Jules' fuck face fiancé off my trail. "Maybe we can grab lunch tomorrow, or something."

"We'll see."

We'll see. Does he realize what I'm doing for him? And he can't even fucking pencil me in. "Marco." I blow out a breath. "Tomorrow. For lunch. When you hang up, add it to your calendar. I'm not taking no for an answer. You can bring her with you if you want. I'd love to meet her."

He laughs. "I don't know about that. If she sees you, she may ditch me. We'll see, though."

"I'm not interested in your girl, Marco. Have a good day."

"You might change your mind."

"Trust me. I won't. Later."

"Yep." He hangs up.

That phone conversation went much better than the last one. My thoughts go back to Jules, to the past twenty-four hours. I want to know what she was doing last night when I couldn't reach her. Speaking of calls ending in a piss poor way, our last one may take the cake. Me leaving her hanging, naked and begging for phone sex. Me in my car with a pair of blue balls.



       
         
       
        

And something has been nagging at me ever since I left her that I can't place-whether it's regret or longing. It's torture to not know her motivations, to think I had her figured out only to go back to questioning everything. The only time I felt like all the bullshit had been put to the side, that she was really honest with me, was when we were here and on the way back to my car.

Furthermore, the thought of meeting in my office has had me on edge. The windows and that view are great, but there's no way I'm going to touch her in there. Never mind the fact her fiancé came into the bathroom on my floor with the Angelo dude yesterday. I've not yet figured out what brought them to my floor, but the last thing I need is for them to see her coming to my office.

The wheels of my brain start to spin. I stare at the counter, envisioning her sprawled out over it, naked, her nipples pert and her pussy waiting for me.

Get this shit out of your head, Theo. Get her out of your head.

But then I also see her handing me her ring, the pleading look in her eyes for me to believe her, and I'm fucking pissed at myself for allowing doubt to creep its way back into the picture. Pulling my phone, I swipe and open the contact for her.

My fingers type the message so quickly, but then I sit there and gaze at it.

Change of plans. My place. Noon.

Do I want to go through this? Is there any other option? It's not like I can back out. She's my only hope, my only savior, if I'm going to figure this out. I tap the little send envelope icon on the right and toss the phone on the granite, pursing my lips together.

Glancing at the clock, it's just a little after eight. I have less than four hours to figure out what I'm going to do. The only thing I know for sure goes back to the conversation we had right here when she handed me that ring. I'm going to have to push aside my doubts, any insecurities that may present themselves, and make it my mission to show her that I'm worthy of her trust. That's what last night was about, right? That she didn't trust me to tell me what she was up to during the time lapse between our calls.

Who am I kidding? This isn't a real relationship. We're both playing games. It's just a matter of who plays it better. Last night, I lost a little control by letting her nudge at the door of my heart, knocking a little too loudly, but I won't make that mistake again. And if she's being honest with me, if the things she said to me last night in this very kitchen are true, then maybe by the time it's all said and done she'll really leave the bastard so we can pursue something more.