Page 27 of Beautiful Deceit
“A land party?” confusion clear in my tone.
He sighs, “No a L-A-N party. We have a small group of us that get together to test out each other’s video games or play old favorites. You could come, it’s fun even if you just watch.” He adds hopeful.
My denial is automatic, “Maybe next time Nate.” I kick myself the moment my reply leaves my lips. In trying for politeness, I’ve made it seem I might be up for another time. Damn it!
I signal for a cab. Thank God cabbies take cards, because I used my cash to pay for my half of dinner.
I kick off my shoes as I enter the cab, not even caring about the grime on the floor. I don’t take a full breath until we pull up to my studio. I’m so done.
I snapmy book closed and growl. I don't know why I'm rereading this damn thing. I don't need to. I've already read it twice, plus I barely even talk at book club. This is just some strange form of self torture. At this rate, I'll never have sex again. Considering the two times I have had sex ended in disaster, it's pretty damn sad. I’m going to die alone with book boyfriends and vibrators as my only source of pleasure.
What a way to spend a Saturday night. Alone, hungry and sexually frustrated, I look to the timer. It has six minutes left. At least my dinner is almost done.
I'm in such a funk, I'm listening to my Sunday morning playlist. John Legend is powering through a ballad in the background. I pull my cheesy garlic baked chicken from the oven. The fried potatoes should be done as soon as the chicken is done resting, so I turn my oven up high to roast some asparagus. I drizzle them with olive oil, garlic, and coarse sea salt, before sliding them in.
I hear a loud buzz. I pause in shutting the oven door. A few seconds later, I hear the noise again and realize it's my intercom. I look out the window, but I can't see the door from this angle.
It buzzes for the third time, so I pick up the phone.
"Yes," I say quietly.
"Sam, can I come up?" Beau? What is he doing here? I am suddenly aware that I don't even have a bra on. Oh holy hell. "Sam?"
Shit.
"Yeah, can you give me like two minutes. I'll buzz you in and unlock the door, but I just need--- a minute." I say in a rush.
I don't wait for him to respond, I push the button for a long moment and unlock the front door. Then I run. I run like I'm being chased by a pack of wild dogs. My socks slide across the floor. I grab the first bra I see and run to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me.
I pull my white t-shirt over my head. Getting it caught in my hair.
I look down and curse. I grabbed a fucking black bra. I walk to my dryer hoping there are some clean clothes in it but find nothing. Fuck.
I hear the door shut, and I scramble for a brush. I don't have time for mascara and that'd be stupid anyway. I brush out my hair and leave it down.
I have on a pair of black leggings that are far too worn in, but there's not much else I can do.
I hear my timer ding. I straighten the large vee neck t-shirt hoping it stays put. I wash my hands and open the door.
I peer around and find Beau pulling the rest of my dinner from the oven with a dish towel.
"I would have gotten that but thank you." He places the pan on top of my range. He hasn't turned around yet, but there's no hat in sight.
"Do you have company?" He asks, still facing the wall.
"No," I say confused
"Are you expecting someone?"
"Nooo,” I hold out the ‘o’. “Why are you staring at my asparagus?" He finally turns and looks at me. I fidget a bit, then stand still. Whatever. He's the one that came to my house at eight o'clock at night, so what if I look like a bum?
His eyes scan me from head to toe, and a warm feeling settles low in my stomach. He clears his throat but doesn’t say anything.
I walk forward as the traitor I call a shirt falls down my arm. I lift my arm to try and right it, but the hem rises above my bum, revealing skin tight leggings.
I am forced to decide if I’m more worried about my bra hanging out, or how thin my pants stretch over my rump. I choose the former. I keep him in my sight at all times because if I turn around he'll really get his money's worth.
"Hey," I wave stupidly.
