“Did you break up with her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She wanted things I couldn’t give her.”
“Like what?”
“She wanted to get married and have kids.”
“You don’t want those things?” When he didn’t answer, I asked, “Or you didn’t want them with her?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Okay. Like I said, it’s none of my business.”
“The bottom line is…when I first met her, she told me she didn’t want those things. Then, over time, she changed her mind. I didn’t want to keep her from living the kind of life she envisioned for herself.”
“So, you broke up with her.”
“Yes.”
“Did you love her?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
I stared off into space a bit. “Okay. If you have to think about it, you probably didn’t.”
“I know what you’re trying to do, Chelsea.”
“What?”
“You’re trying to analyze my situation to somehow find answers to your own shit. Not all guys are the same. We’re fucked-up for different reasons. I hope you stopped seeing Dr. Fuckwad, by the way.”
“Actually, I did. I took your advice. She wasn’t making much sense toward the end.”
“Good. You should be looking forward not backwards anyway.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do…you know, when I’m not accidentally burning down buildings.”
“You said it, not me,” he said, placing the two round trays into the preheated oven. “These are going in for a half-hour. What do you like to drink?”
“Anything you have is fine.”
“Rhubarb Juice Concentrate, then?” he teased.
“Ugh…no.”
“What do you like?”
“Wine.”
“What kind?”
“Any kind is fine.”
“Do you have a problem saying what you want or something?”
“Seriously, any kind is fine…except Moscato.”
“See…now, what if I’d opened up Moscato? You would’ve drank it and been miserable.”
“Probably.”
“Don’t be afraid to say what you want. Life is too short.”
“Okay, then. Do you have Chardonnay?”
“No.”
“White Zinfandel?”
“No.”
I laughed. “What do you have?”
“Beer.”
“Beer…”
“You can’t always get what you want. But don’t be afraid to ask.”
“Water is fine.”
God, I needed a glass of wine.
CHAPTER SIX
THE DATING GAME
Steam filled the kitchen as Damien took the two pizza pies out of the oven. I couldn’t help admiring the curvature of his ass as he bent down.
Digging my teeth into my bottom lip, I said, “That looks really good.”
“Wait till you taste.”
I bet.
Stop where your mind is going, Chelsea.
I cleared my throat. “Pretty confident in your cooking skills, huh?”
“Pizza is like sex. It’s hard to fuck it up.”
Chuckling, I said under my breath, “I don’t really remember.”
“That long, huh?”
Heat permeated my cheeks. “I didn’t even realize I’d said that out loud.”
He pointed to his ears. “Supersonic hearing, remember?”
“That’s right.”
“So, it’s been a while?”
“Well, it’s going on a year since my breakup. I haven’t been with anyone else after him. And I’ve only been with two men in my life.”
“Both at once, I take it?”
“No.” Grabbing the napkin next to me, I rolled it and threw it at him. “It was only a book, Damien!”
“You mean you don’t really want to be blindfolded and fucked in the ass with a cock in your mouth?”
“No, I truly don’t.”
“I’m just messing with you. If we were all really representative of the things that help get our rocks off, I’d be one pretty sick fuck.”
“I don’t want to know.” I shook my head and sighed.
“What’s that sigh for?” he asked as he placed a plate of pizza in front of me.
“You know way too much about me, Damien Hennessey.”
“By accident, yes.”
“Still.” I blew on the pizza and took a bite. “You owe me. I want more dirt on you. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Your rent is going up in January.”
My mouth was full. “Are you serious?”
“Actually, I am. The property taxes went up significantly. I have no choice but to raise it fifty bucks across the board.”
“That sucks. But that wasn’t the kind of information I was hoping for. Maybe we can negotiate.” The way the words had come out of my mouth made it sound like I was propositioning him. That was not how I meant it.
God, I hoped that didn’t sound bad.
He chuckled and blew on his pizza. “You know what you are, Chelsea Jameson? You’re like pizza. Hot…but bad for me in large doses.”
I tried to sway the conversation, but the only thing I could think to ask was, “You think I’m nuts, don’t you?”
“Nah. I know you’re not really crazy. When I called the youth center to confirm your employment, I couldn’t get them off the phone. They wouldn’t stop talking about how wonderful you are with the kids there. I figured you were good people. So, even when you were being a pain in the ass about the dogs, I never thought you were a bad person.”
“I didn’t realize you called my job.”
“I check everyone out thoroughly before giving them a place here. I don’t want the stress of having to evict people. But even good people sometimes take advantage.”
“Like not paying their rent?”
“Yeah…but it’s one thing if they can’t afford it. What pisses me off is when they’re late and just bought a brand new car, or they’re going out to eat every fucking night. That’s one of the advantages of living in the building you own. I can see the shit that goes on. If you’ve ever seen me lose it on someone, it’s only because they’re bullshitting me, telling me they can’t pay their rent when they’re fucking driving a better car than I am.”
“I used to think you were just being mean. I made assumptions about you before I knew certain things. I’m sorry for that.”
“Oh no, I quite liked being called Angry Artist.”
I almost asked him how he knew about that term but soon realized that would have been a dumb question. His stare burned into mine once again. I found myself having to look away.
I suspected there were many layers to Damien. I wanted to peel them slowly. It had been so long since I’d wanted to know everything about someone. It scared me how much he knew about me, though.
“Do you think I’m pathetic?” I suddenly asked.
“Why would you say that?”
“After all the stuff you overheard?”
“No. I really don’t. You have every right to be upset by what your ex did to you. The guy told you he loved you. He led you to believe certain things. He promised you something, and he faltered on it. You don’t do that to someone.”
“You never told Jenna you loved her?”
“No. I didn’t. And I never promised her anything, either. I don’t make promises I can’t keep. That’s the difference between him and me. The thing is, you’re letting his mistakes reflect on you somehow. You didn’t do anything wrong but be a loving girlfriend. He didn’t deserve you.”
My heart suddenly felt heavy. “Thank you for saying that.”
“But you need to move on.”
His words were sobering. Of course I knew I needed to move past my issues about Elec. It was just easier said than done.
“I guess I don’t really know the best way to do that.?
??
“Stop focusing on it. Stop giving it power. You need distractions to do that. You have to put yourself out there. You need to get in the dating game.”
“That’s what I mean by I don’t know how to do it. I haven’t ever dated.”
Damien squinted in disbelief. “How is that possible?”
“I’d just broken up with my high school boyfriend a few months before Elec started working at the youth center. Elec and I became friends, and then it eventually morphed into something more. So, I went from one serious relationship right into another. I’ve literally never dated. I don’t even know how people go about dating nowadays. Do you go to bars? What do you do to meet people?”
“What do I do…or what do most people do? All I need to do is just…be. Women flock to me.”
“Seriously?”
“I’m kidding. Sort of.” He winked. “Someone like you? You should do online dating. But only meet people in public places. Otherwise, it’s too risky.”
“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“It’ll take ten minutes. You just need a picture of yourself to create a profile.” He suddenly got up.
“Where are you going?”
“Getting my laptop. We’ll do it right now.”
Hit with an onslaught of disappointment, I hoped my face didn’t give me away. I hated that I felt this way, but it bummed me out that Damien was so quick to pawn me off. It basically closed the door on any potential interest in me before the door really even opened, I suppose.
“What are you…my pimp?”
“No. But you seem clueless, like you could use some guidance. So, I’m offering to get you started. Unless you don’t want my help.”
Hell, if he wasn’t interested in me, I might as well let him help me.
“I guess it couldn’t hurt.”
“Alright, then.” He pulled up the site and spoke as he typed. “Your user name is Chelsea Jameson, and your password is fire3…since you like threesomes.”
“Thanks a lot. That will be easy enough to remember.”
Jackass.
He continued entering information. “Name…Chelsea. Age…” Damien looked at me for clarification.
“Twenty-five.”
“Height?”
“Five foot four.”
“Weight?”
“They ask that?”
“They do, but you don’t have to put it down.”
“Skip…on principle.”
“Bra size?”
“They ask that?”
“No.”
“Jerk.” I smiled.
Damien continued entering my information. “Hair…blonde. Eyes…blue. Okay, now they’re asking personality questions. Hobbies and interests?”
“Reading…”
“Of course. Reading ménage!” After typing that in, he tapped on the keys to delete the last part. “Okay. Reading. Anything else?”
“Working with children, taking walks, and travel.”
We continued going down the line as I tried to make myself sound as least boring as possible. The last question was the most superficial one.
“How would you rate yourself on a scale of physical attractiveness from one to ten?
“I can’t rate myself.”
“Ten,” he quickly answered.
“Ten?”
“Yes.”
“Are you just saying that?”
“No, I’m not. But here’s the thing…even if you don’t think you’re a ten, you should still put down ten, because that exudes confidence. Confidence is sexy. But in your case, you really are a ten. You’re beyond beautiful.”
Feeling like I was melting into my seat, I said, “Thank you.”
“You’re lucky that’s the case, too. It helps balance out the crazy.” He winked.
“Thanks,” I laughed then cleared my throat. “What next?”
“Your profile is done. We just need to upload a picture. Do you have one in your phone you want to use?”
I sifted through the photos, and to my surprise, I hadn’t taken one good picture of myself alone in the past six months. All of the decent shots, where I was smiling or made up, were with Elec.
“I like this one, but he’s in it.” I said, handing him the phone.
“That’s him?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm.” He scratched his chin as he examined the photo then said, “You could do better. Anyway, I’ll crop him out.”
“Can you?”
“Yeah. It’s easy.” Damien started messing around with it. “Okay. Done. See?” He turned the phone toward me. “You’d never know he was there except for that piece of black. It looks like a sweater over your shoulder.”
It gave me a strange sense of satisfaction that Elec had been reduced to a mere garment of clothing.
“So what do we do now?”
“Now you have to figure out how to use it. I’ll create an account if you want, and we can pretend to connect, so you can see how it works.”
Pretend to connect. Was I a fool for thinking we were somehow already connecting?
“That would be good. So I don’t make a fool out of myself later.”
“Well, that very well may still happen.”
Watching Damien as he input information about himself, I noticed he often licked the side of his mouth whenever he concentrated. Each time his tongue moved, I felt a tingle run through me.
I definitely wouldn’t mind licking that spot for him.
He flipped the computer toward me. “Okay. I just made both of our accounts active. It’s a free trial for thirty days. After that, it’s forty-five dollars a month. You use this computer. I’ll use my iPad.”
A notification popped up on my screen. “Did you just poke me?”
“No.”
“Someone poked me!”
“Believe me. You’d know it if I poked you.”
“Seriously. Someone just poked me.”
“Ignore him.”
“Why? I see him now. His name is Jonathan. He’s not that bad looking.”
“You literally just became active a few seconds ago. He couldn’t have had time to read your entire profile. He’s just poking you because you’re pretty. He only wants one thing…to fuck you. Stay away from him. I’m going to send you a request to chat.”
A picture of Damien popped up on the screen. It was taken in his bathroom. It was a shockingly good selfie where the light happened to be shining at just the right angle into his eyes, making them appear like they were glowing. He was beautiful.
“I just accepted your request.”
Damien: Hi.
Chelsea: Hi.
Damien: You’re very pretty.
Chelsea: You’re not so bad yourself.
He peeked over my computer. “Don’t return his compliment so quickly. You already have the upper hand. You don’t need to kiss his ass, especially with someone who starts off so corny.”
Chelsea: I take that back. You’re hideous.
Damien: This chat thing is kind of annoying, isn’t it? Can I have your phone number so that we can talk?
Chelsea: Sure. It’s 95-
He stopped me. “Don’t give him your number yet. He could be a psychopath. You don’t want him having your personal information.”
I chuckled. “I think he is a psychopath.”
Chelsea: Sorry, my pimp says I can’t give you my number just yet.
Damien: Maybe we can meet up, then? I could pick you up.
Chelsea: Actually I’d prefer to meet you somewhere.
“Good girl. You didn’t fall for my trap.”
Damien: Sure. How about the restaurant inside the Westerly Hotel?
Chelsea: That would be okay.
He put his iPad down in frustration. “No. You choose the place to meet. You don’t know what his motives are in getting you inside a hotel. He could plan to slip something in your drink and take you upstairs or some shit. Always choose the location.”
Chelsea: O
n second thought, I’d prefer a different place.
Damien: You just tell me where.
Chelsea: How about the Starbucks on Powell Street downtown?
“Good. Coffee’s very non-committal.”
Damien: Okay. How about Saturday afternoon at 3?
Chelsea: Sounds good.
Damien: Looking forward to it. See you then.
“Well, that was pretty easy,” I said.
“You’ll get used to it. Just always keep in control. You make the decisions.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Does it matter?”
“Probably not.”
“What?”
“How am I going to know that the guy isn’t a bad person?”
“You can’t really know a hundred percent. Use your instinct the best you can. And get his full name. I pay for this background check service. I’ll run the same one I do on all the tenants to make sure any guy you date is legit.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“What are friends for?”
“Oh…are we friends?” I joked.
“Yeah. Why not?”
And there it was: final confirmation of the fact that Damien wasn’t interested in anything more with me.
Handing him back the laptop, I said, “I’d better get back. It’s late.”
“Oh, hey. Before you go.” He walked over to the kitchen and unplugged the toaster oven before reaching it out to me. “Here.”
“You’re giving me your toaster oven?”
“I don’t use it much. I get the impression it might be all you use to cook. Am I right?”
“Mostly, yes.”
“So, here.”
I took it. “Thank you. I’ll give it back.”
“No need. If I ever need to toast something, I’ll just knock. Loudly. In case you’re holed up with a ménage book in the bathroom.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks again for dinner.”
“Sweet dreams, Chelsea.”
As I walked back to my smoky apartment, I couldn’t help the smile on my face. I also couldn’t help wishing the Saturday coffee date with Damien was real.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHANGE THE STORY
A couple of weeks later, it was Arts Night at the youth center, and I’d found myself in a major pickle.