Page 13 of Drive Me Crazy
“Why’d you leave your job to spend the season with a guy you barely know?”
“For you to be influential enough for people to want to read about your life? That’s impressive, not to mention brave. I’m excited to be a part of that. And I left my job before deciding to take this job. They’re not mutually exclusive.”
“Why’d you leave, though?” I press.
I tried searching online to see if something scandalous happened and didn’t find much. PlayMedia announced the end of the podcast on their social media pages but gave no reason as to why. Some fans speculated on Twitter, although it’s clear their guess is as good as mine.
“Does it matter?” She tries coming off casual, but her tone is snappy.
“Why should I be honest with you if you’re not honest with me?”
It comes out harsh, but I don’t apologize. If I’m expected to share my life story with her, she can cough up one detail about hers.
“It doesn’t matter why I left, Blake. I just did.”
Ella leans back in her chair, observing me with a cautious gaze. Part of me wants to dig deeper, but a sliver of guilt works its way through my body. I’ve suffered from anxiety since I was a kid and recognize how her shoulders tense and her brows dip. Add in the way she’s clutching her necklace like it’s a lifeline and she’s easier to read than a stop sign.Shit. I didn’t mean to push a button hard enough for her to shut down and go on the defensive. I just wanted to give her a little taste of her own medicine. But a frown lookswrongon her somehow and I hate that I was the one who put it there.
I take a sip of the scalding hot coffee, burning the roof ofmy mouth in the process. Karma for being a dick, I suppose. “Well, what have you been doing between that job and this?”
“WatchingLaw & Order: SVUreruns and selling photos of my feet on the Internet,” she says with no inflection in her voice. Her shoulders seem to lose some of their tension at the topic change. “This pays better, although you’re starting to make me second-guess if it’s worth it.”
I snort in response. Looking through my list of questions, my eyes laser focus on one that’s sure to bring out that fiery attitude of hers. “Are you single?”
I stalked her Instagram and she seems close to this guy named Jack, but there were no obvious signs of them being in a relationship.
“Is that seriously on your list of questions?” The disbelief in her voice has a hint of annoyance.
“Yep. My interview, my questions.”
She mumbles something under her breath before saying, “Yes.”
“Cool. Then how do you feel about a friends-with-benefits situation? It’ll make this whole interview process a hell of a lot more enjoyable for us both, that’s for sure. Figure it’s a good way to get out any tension we have.”
Thefriendspart of friends-with-benefits is a stretch at this point, but my other option wasbum chums, Theo’s favorite way to describe casual sex. I lean back in my chair and link my hands behind my head while I wait for her answer.
Then, as if some internal switch has been activated, she bursts out laughing. All-consuming, belly-holding laughter. “Are … you … I … oh, you’ve got to be fucking with me, Hollis.”
She’s the one who’s got to be messing with me. I’ve been breaking hearts and backs since I grew facial hair, and I’ve never seen someone look so simultaneously offended and perversely entertained by the idea of sleeping with me.
It takes her a few more seconds to stop laughing, but whenshe does, she stares at me as if I suggested we stick our hands in a garbage disposal for some type of twisted bonding activity. “Regardless of if you are or aren’t,” she adds with downturned lips, “I’m going to have to politely pass.”
I scan her face to try to get a better read of what’s going through that pretty little head of hers. “Why? Casual sex between two consenting adults isn’t a big deal.”
Sex is the only thing where coming first is the worst and second is the best for me. I make sure every woman I sleep with leaves more than satisfied.
Ella shakes her head back and forth as if she’s in a stunned state of disbelief. “Uh, we work together. I’m not putting my job in jeopardy just so you can get your rocks off. You need to respect me as a person and as a professional, Blake. And even if we didn’t work together, I’m not the hump-and-dump kind of girl. I don’t do casual sex. Based on the number of women you’ve brought back since I first got here, I don’t think those are things you’re interested in. Plus, aren’t you a little old to be sticking your thingy into holes like it’s playing Whac-A-Mole?”
Thankfully, I’m wearing black, so the coffee I spit out doesn’t stain my shirt. “My thingy? Are you serious?”
She takes a long sip of her coffee-flavored milk. “Were you serious when you point-blank asked me if I wanted to fool around with you and had some unrealistic expectation I’d say yes? Because if so, then yes, I am absolutely serious.”
“I don’t do relationships,” I say without further explanation. “I’m more than happy playing Whac-A-Whatever with my thingy.”
God, I cannot believe I just called my dick a thingy.
“Well, enjoy your games. I won’t be participating. But just a word of advice”—she shoots me a wicked smile—“you may want to brush up on your Whac-a-Mole skills because the redhead from the other night was definitely faking it.”
I’mhonestly not sure how much more my ego can handle. My brain short-circuits and I can’t get a single word out.
