Too Much : Chapter 12

THIS IS A BAD, BAD IDEA.

Why did I agree to go out with him? I’m not attracted to him on any level. I don’t even particularly like him. There’s no chemistry between us… so why am I doing it?

Because I’m petty, apparently.

I’m stooping to the lowest level. Sinking to the bottom, desperate to get Theo’s attention. I’m childish, immature, and plain stupid.

I’m trying to make him jealous.

A drink with Dean, one of the young, wealthy, flirty golfers, seemed like a good idea when he asked me out this morning… not for the first time. The idea is no longer good. It’s idiotic at best because Dean isn’t the man I want.

Theo is, but he doesn’t want to fuck me, let alone date me.

He’s in the living room, working on the game when I leave my bedroom wearing a cute but sexy blue dress that falls to my mid-thighs, hugging my curves.

I’m not thin by any definition. I could lose a few pounds. Maybe more than just a few, but I’m lazy, and despite the extra weight, I’m comfortable in my own skin. Big boobs and a nice ass are an undeniable bonus of avoiding the gym. Wobbly tummy and thick thighs could do with a bit of work and toning, but again… lazy.

Theo peers up from the laptop screen, eyes slowly taking me in before he meets my gaze, his handsome face void of emotion. “Where are you going?”

“I have a date. Dean invited me out for a drink.” I hate myself for seeing this through. “He’s been very persistent since I started working at the Country Club.”

Theo shoves the laptop aside, a sly, derogatory smirk curving his lips, the gesture laced with mockery. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but that drink is not a date. It’s a play to fuck you.”

Rocking on my heels, I readjust my bag, taken aback by his clipped tone and how much the comment stings. “Thank you for that. Good to know that’s all men could want from me.”

Theo’s expression changes to a pained one, as if he just realized what he implied. “I didn’t mean it that way, but I know Dean. He doesn’t want to date you. You or anyone else.”

My cell pings in my bag, letting me know the Uber I ordered waits outside. Defeated and painfully aware of how idiotic the date with Dean is, I pivot on my heel. “Good night.”

“Thalia, wait.” He jogs up to me, blocking the door with his big, deliciously smelling body. “Call it off. Don’t waste your time. Dean’s an ass, omorfiá.”

“It seems that everyone in this town is an ass, but I’ll take the risk,” I say through gritted teeth, adamant about seeing the date through, especially now that I have something to prove—Dean doesn’t just want to sleep with me. There are easier ways to get a woman in bed than a date. “He wouldn’t have asked me out if he’s only interested in sex. He likes me.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Wow…” I mouth, arms crossed over my chest. “Two for two. You’re on a roll tonight.” I shove him aside, grab the handle, and burst out the door before he tries to insult me again.

◆◆◆

Newport Beach is dotted with small and large cocktail bars, restaurants, and clubs to accommodate the luxurious tastes of the elite. The bar Dean chose is one of the most expensive places on the main street.

Luxury slaps you across the face the second you step inside. It drips from high-end furniture and the sophisticated splendor of the interior design.

It’s Monday, but the place is far from deserted.

A group of elegant women in their forties sits by a long table, dressed to impress, necks adorned with diamonds, hair styled for the red carpet. Two young couples enjoy drinks and light snacks near the window, men dressed in suits. A bunch of friends are tucked away in the corner by a wall, wallpapered with old newspapers.

Dean’s in a suit too. A navy-fitted blazer hugs his shoulders, a white shirt underneath, and his hair is sleeked to the side. The conversation runs smoothly for over an hour. We talk about my life in Greece, or the vague story I’m willing to tell, and his work. He’s nice, for lack of a better word. Talking to him is as easy as talking to Shawn or Jack, but sparks aren’t flying, and my heart isn’t racing. If I’m being honest with myself, I’m bored. I hoped I’d find him attractive once I got to know him better, but he’s not growing on me.

I’m forced to admit defeat.

To make things worse, Theo’s words prove correct. Dean doesn’t like me. He’s not interested in getting to know me on a meaningful level. On any level, really. Every question out of his mouth sounds forced, and he pays no attention to my answers. He wants to sleep with me, but the scowl tainting his features hints frustration. He must’ve thought I’d play ball.

Sorry to disappoint.

More long minutes pass. The atmosphere turns awkward, and his patience slowly evaporates, evident by the nervous tapping of his long, slim fingers on the tabletop. He checks the time on his wristwatch as if he’s gone into this with a set timeline of events and can’t believe the plan is falling apart.

“You’re not here, Thalia. What’s going on?”

I’m not here? He ignored my last two questions, gawking around as if checking whether a more willing woman stands by the bar, awaiting his company.

“I’m here.”

He huffs a frustrated puff of air. “Let me guess. This,” he points between us, leaning back in the chair, “won’t happen, right?”

I chew my cheek, fishing ice cubes out of the tall glass with a red straw. “Maybe it would if you weren’t just hoping to stick your dick in one of my holes.”

Instead of swallowing, he inhales a sip of the golden whiskey, breaking into a coughing fit.

Was I supposed to sugarcoat the subject? Come up with a plausible, politically correct excuse, or feign a headache?

Again, sorry to disappoint.

“I like that filthy mouth, babe.” His eyes sparkle again. “Listen, you’re beautiful and seem like a smart, fun girl, but I’m not looking for a girlfriend. We’re adults. We have needs. All I want is one night.”

“I appreciate the honesty. You would’ve saved yourself time and money if you laid your cards down sooner and asked me if I wanted to sleep with you.”

“You don’t?” The sparkles fizzle out like cheap fireworks. “Figures. I’m not a Hayes. I should’ve known you’re Theo’s shiny toy when I found out you live at his place.”

“I’m not sleeping with Theo,” I hiss, bracing against the edge of the table. “Were friends. As a matter of fact, he’s the only person I trust around here.”

Point invalidated by my unwillingness to listen when he said Dean only wants sex, but I won’t say that aloud to benefit my date.

God, this was a bad, bad idea. The plan failed miserably, and to top it off, I’m about to make an enemy out of a Country Club member, which might earn me an earful from Jared when Dean requests another cart girl.

He scoffs with a mocking grin, pulls out his wallet, and throws a fifty on the table. “If you think he’ll date you, you’re not half as smart as I pegged you for. He’ll throw you out of his house like a cheap slut once your holes stop meeting his high expectations.”

My mouth falls open. A hoard of insects crawls up and down my skin, but a sort of untamable violence hissing in my head scalds away humiliation.

I lurch forward, snatch a fistful of his shirt, and yank him closer, the tornado of my thoughts spluttering like a defective neon sign. “You don’t know me very well, so let me give you a quick rundown. I’m not a slut, and I don’t let people walk all over me as they please. Have some dignity. Learn to lose like the adult you claim to be.” I shove him back, slide off the stool, and flip my hair over my shoulder, walking away, chin high, back straight.

There was a time in my life when I had no courage, will, or strength to fight my battles, but life taught me well. The only person who’ll always have your back is you.

Cabs line the curb on both sides of the road, waiting for people to exit many bars and restaurants. I take the back seat of the one closest, give the driver Theo’s address, and press my forehead against the glass, staring out the window while unsure what annoys and hurts more: that Theo was right about Dean or that Dean might be right about Theo.

Not the throwing me out of the house part. The he won’t date you part spoken in a degrading tone, as if I’m not good enough for a man like Theo.

I swat the thought away before it sprouts roots and grows. It’s not me. At least not just me.

The Hayes brothers refrain from commitment, enjoying their youth. That’s perfectly understandable, but it also means I need to bury the growing affection before I end up hurt and crying. Theo hasn’t brought any woman home since I moved in with him, but that’s not to say it won’t happen soon. It’ll be safer for my heart to cap the feelings while it’s not too late.

“Could you close the window, please?” I ask the driver, my skin dotted with goosebumps. “I’m a little chilly.”

The driver glances into the rearview mirror, eyebrow raised, because who the hell is chilly in the middle of summer in freaking California?

Lack of quality sleep is starting to affect me.

Ten minutes later, the driver pulls up outside Theo’s condo complex. As if the evening can’t get any worse, I spot the man in question resting by the wall, a cigarette between his lips. Leaving a generous tip, I exit the car too quickly. Headrush hits, sprinkling my vision with black spots, while evening air introduces shivers and more goosebumps. I hold onto the trunk, swaying on my feet.

“How much have you had to drink?” Theo clips, clutching my forearm, creases lining his forehead.

“I’m not drunk.” I straighten my back, wriggling out of his grasp. “I had one drink. It’s just a headrush.” Black spots fade to grey. “I didn’t know you smoke.”

“I don’t. Call it a moment of weakness. I quit a while ago.” He flicks the cigarette onto the street, motioning with his chin toward the building, urging me to follow him inside. “You’re upset. What did Dean do?”

“I’m not upset.”

He grabs me again, my wrist this time. The urgency of his touch awakens the ache deep inside my core—the one I’ve been plagued by every night for weeks while erotic fantasies intensify. He spins me around, pushing my back against the brick wall, his muscular body crowding my personal space.

I feel him. The heat radiating off him in palpable waves, the arousing scent of his cologne, the firm touch of his fingers on my waist.

“Don’t lie. What happened?”

“I’m not upset.”

To keep his raging temper at bay, he inhales a deep breath. I wait, hoping he’ll close the distance and kiss me, but he doesn’t. I can almost hear the spine of my wish snapping, the sound accompanied by a cloud of disappointment when Theo steps back. I take it as a cue to leave, but he touches the back of his hand against my stomach, keeping me still, fire dancing in his dark eyes.

“Tell me what’s wrong. I don’t like seeing you upset.”

Why does he say all the right lines? It’s as if someone built him according to my instructions: handsome, caring, thoughtful. My throat clogs with frustration. I’d be much happier if he wasn’t so stubborn.

“You were right. Dean just wants to fuck me.”

A smile pulls at the corners of his full lips. “I told you not to waste your time.”

“That’s not funny. Seems like I only attract men who want nothing more than sex.”

“You’re a shitty judge of character. Check with me next time someone asks you out.”

A tickling sensation floods my chest, cranked up and almost unbearable when Theo hooks his finger under my chin, tilting my head so I look up to him.

“You look tired, Thalia.”

“Isn’t that a compliment every woman is dying to hear? Three for three. Would you like to hit again, or are you done insulting me tonight?”

He smiles wider. “I’ve seen you with and without makeup. I’ve seen you with mascara smeared under your eyes when you were too lazy to wash your face before falling asleep. I’ve seen you wearing a sexy dress, and I’ve seen you in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt stained with tomato juice. You’re beautiful, little one. Always. But now, you’re tired.”

Stopping a smile from ripping my mouth open is impossible after hearing that. Hot and cold flushes slide down my spine as if my body can’t decide how to react. “Saved by sweet-talk,” I tease, pushing him away. “I’ve not been sleeping well lately.”

“Bad dreams?”

Good dreams. Very good, intense dreams of Theo’s face hanging over mine, his eyes hooded, hungry. His naked body hot to the touch as he drives into me in a rushed rhythm. Vibrant, erotic fantasies plague me every night, stopping seconds before orgasm blooms and I wake up frustrated.

“No, just late nights and early mornings.”

“You’re normally a good liar, you know? Tonight, you’re slacking. If you don’t want to tell me what’s bothering you, don’t, but don’t lie.”

“Okay,” I huff, defeated. “I don’t want to talk about it. Can we go in now? It’s chilly.”

He’s silent for ten seconds, staring at me as if to read my mind. Finally, he steps aside and holds the door open, letting me in first.

“I’ll get changed and fix us a light bite to eat,” I say, heading to my bedroom.

“Another episode of “Ozark?”

We started watching the show last week, which is why I ditched the afternoon naps. Instead of recharging my batteries between working at the Country Club and waitressing, I’m on the couch with Theo, watching at least one episode a day.

“Do you have to ask? Set it up.” I close the door behind me, shimmy out of the dress, slide a pair of jeans on, then wrap myself in a thick cardigan and pull my hair into a ponytail before invading the kitchen. “Play,” I say ten minutes later, hurrying into the living room with two beers and a charcuterie board.

Theo loves it when I make tiny cracker sandwiches throughout the show. And I love that most of the time, I get to put those little bites straight into his mouth.