Where are you?
I recognize Gaige's number immediately but ignore it, setting the phone down on the table. He's been avoiding me, yet picks now as the appropriate time to text? Yeah, right.
"Sorry about that," I say. "So, being an accountant sounds interesting." I'm lying. I take another sip of my margarita.
Bennet is saying something about his job, and when my phone buzzes again, I'm honestly grateful for the distraction. I should be hanging on every word that comes out of Bennet's adorable mouth, except I'm not.
What are you doing right now?
Bennet is still talking, and I nod along, making encouraging sounds while I text back.
None of your business. You?
I set the phone down. Two seconds later, it buzzes.
Are you alone?
I text back.
Yes.
It buzzes again. Damn it.
Liar.
I'm annoyed with Gaige for interrupting my date, and I know I should turn off the phone, but I don't. Instead, I excuse myself to use the restroom, leaving Bennet watching a sports game on the row of televisions behind me, and text on my way.
You've left me alone forever now. Why are you texting me? Are you bored?
I've only made it through the bathroom door when it buzzes again.
Maybe I've just finally recovered from the worst case of blue balls known to man.
I feel a perverse mix of guilt and satisfaction when I read his text message. How can I even respond to that? Sorry about your balls? Hope they haven't fallen off? I wonder if they make a greeting card for that occasion.
I'm sure you found someone to assist you.
I'm washing my hands and fixing my hair in the mirror when he texts again.
So are you in your room? Or are you having a happy hour date?
I stare at his text. Why does Gaige seem to have this sixth sense about me? It's so annoying. Well, I'm not going to outright lie. I turn the phone off and stick it in my purse without responding.
I'm weaving and winding my way back through the crowd in the bar to my table. "Sorry, I –" I stop short when I realize Bennet is no longer sitting at my table.
Gaige is in his seat, looking at me with raised eyebrows. "You didn't respond to my text," he says, looking up. I turn to see the waitress behind me, with a beer in hand that Gaige accepts.
"Where's Bennet?" I demand.
Gaige takes a sip of his beer. "Bennet decided to cut the date short," he says.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"I was in the neighborhood," he says, with a look of smug satisfaction.
"You were in the –" I start to say, looking around for Bennet, but not seeing him anywhere. "Did you really just run off my – "
"Your what, Delaney?" he asks. "Your date?"
"Fine," I say. "I'm on a date. I was on a date. With a nice guy. Before you showed up and ruined it."
"Oh yeah," he says. "It looked like it was going really well. You gazing off into the distance, leaving the guy to fend for himself. Trust me, he was glad to be let off the hook."
"What did you do?"
Gaige shrugs. "I told him you were already taken."
"You told him I was taken." My brain refuses to process this information, so instead I just stand there staring at Gaige like he's speaking in a foreign language.
Gaige sips his beer. "Taken."
"Taken by who, exactly?" I ask. Then I pause. "No, never mind. I don't even want to know the answer to that question. Did you fucking follow me here?" I ask, my voice rising in pitch. Someone looks over at me, and I lower it, aware I'm about to cause a scene. Or I am causing a scene. We look like a couple having an argument. "Have you been listening to my date? Did you bug me or something?"
Gaige laughs. "Seriously, you think I bugged you? Listen to yourself, Delaney."
"That's it," I say. "I don't even care what you did. I'm totally out of here." I dig in my purse for cash, and slap enough down on the table to cover my bill, refusing to even make any eye contact with Gaige before I storm out the door. He doesn't follow me out of the bar.
Back at home, I'm still furious with him, but I have no one to vent to. I start to call Daniel, but what the hell kind of explanation can I give him for my stepbrother's ridiculousness? Daniel texts to ask me how the date with Bennet went, but I ignore him. Instead, I turn on music and take a bath, trying to tune out everything else. I can't believe Gaige, going in there and acting like some kind of caveman, telling Bennet to leave.
Why are you pissed? He did what you yourself wanted to do to Bennet – he told him to get lost. I know the nagging little voice in my head is absolutely true. But even so, he had no right to do it.
I'm not even relaxed after a hot bath. I'm still irritated. And Gaige isn't next door, or if he is, he's been super stealthy about sneaking into his room. I slip into a pair of comfy pants and a tank top and grab my novel to head up to the roof, to the sunroom.