I’m not a one and done type of woman.
That may work for some, and more power to them for being able to accomplish it, but I’ve given enough of myself over to others without gaining anything in return and I will not do that with my heart or my body.
And Keith doesn’t date.
He doesn’t do relationships.
He looks at me and sees a dead ex-girlfriend, which in it of itself is a huge red flag. He would plow through me, literally, and then be done in the next second.
Then where the hell would I be?
Yet another cliché I refuse to become.
So I like his boundaries. They’re protective. They’re smart. They’re necessary for survival.
Now I have to figure out how to just be friends with a man who I already like way more than I should.
12
Maia
* * *
“Your move,” Keith says, and I shift my gaze away from the HUGE screen in his media room, back down to the table in which his Harry Potter Wizard’s chess set is in full action.
“Really?” I growl. “You’re such a cunt.”
He barks a harsh laugh. “A cunt? Women don’t use the word cunt.”
“Well, I just did because that’s exactly what you are. You seriously moved your knight there to fuck with me. We both know you give a rat’s ass about that rook. What’s your game here, Dawson? What are you playing at?”
“Maybe I just like mowing down the little people on my road to ultimate domination.”
I snort. “Wow. That’s super sexy. Nothing like a world domineering tyrant. Seriously, my panties are wet.”
“Maia,” he warns.
“So easy.” I roll my eyes at him. “I still can’t believe your sister bought you this set, and you never used it before I came here.”
“Believe it or not, I never played chess until you brought it out. It was a joke since I thought playing life-size chess like in the book and movie would be cool.”
“Oh, I believe it. You have no strategy. I’ve only played on my phone before and I constantly kick your ass.”
He scoffs. “More like I let you win, darlin’.”
“Whatever.” I shift quickly back to the screen because this is one of my favorite scenes.
“How do you like this stuff? You’re twenty, not eighty.”
“You’re missing it all Keith. We’re talking Grace Kelly and Jimmy Stewart. All the suspense. All the clean Hollywood drama that earned its money in the story and clothing and acting. Not in the special effects or over-sexualization of a generation. Hitchcock, for all his faults, and the man had many, was a cinematic, storytelling genius. ‘When two people love each other, they come together—WHAM—like two taxis on Broadway.’ I quote. I mean, come on. Grace Kelly, who was the embodiment of stunning, says this while wearing a gown for the ages and a flirty smirk for her man. You need to watch this. I mean it. The suspense is just so good.”
“Tell me how you got into classic films,” he commands instead of following my request, though I’ve caught him a time or two when it’s my move checking out the screen.
I eye the board and discover a bishop he left unsecure when he moved his knight. Rookie mistake and I do mean that with the pun. “In the week I’ve lived here we’ve been together practically non-stop and watched almost half a dozen classic films. I’m shocked it’s taken you this long to ask.”
He cocks an impatient eyebrow.
“Fine,” I grouse. “I used to watch them growing up. My mom liked them—one of the only things we had in common—and I got into them because they were beautiful and such a perfect escape. They were free to borrow from the library, so we did that often, and whenever we went, she’d let me check out a book or two because they were also free. That’s also how I got into history and Greek mythology. Anyway, I became a film minor in college. My freshman film classes were super cool and all old films that showcased some of the best Hollywood’s golden era produced.”
“What was your major?”
“Psychology. I wanted to be a school guidance counselor or psychologist.”
“Wanted to be? Past tense?”
I shrug. I’m not going there right now. I’ll get back to college eventually. My plan for the moment is to save every freaking penny I earn as the assistant to Wild Minds and pay off all the debts. By my calculations that should only take a little more than eight months and that includes me finding another dump to live in. After that, when I’m debt-free, the world is my oyster and I plan on finding all its pearls.
“Is that why you came out to Los Angeles? Searching for Hollywood glory?”
“Noooo.” I scrunch up my nose. “Acting is not my passion or my desire. I just like to watch movies. Your move.”
“You took my bishop,” he complains, eyeing the board with regret.
“You left him unprotected. Pay closer attention next time. If I were smart, I’d have wagered huge dollars on this game.”
“Don’t discount me, sweet darlin’. I’m unexpected as hell.”
Ain’t that the truth.
“Are you hungry? I bet you’re hungry.”
He reaches out, flipping my hair and then covering my eyes with his hand as he moves whatever piece he’s moving on the board. I hear a few things clattering around. “Hey.” I laugh, trying to pry his unrelenting grip from my eyes. “Why are you covering my eyes?” I finally break free only to find the board wiped clean of all black figures. I meet his, not even remotely close to an apologetic grin. The man is a wolf if ever there was one. “You totally cheated.”
“No. I sneezed.”
“Oh my god. Are you kidding me? You did not sneeze. And even if you did, the big bad wolf that you are couldn’t have come close to this tactical of a blow. No one is that talented with their mouth.”
“Maia.”
I laugh harder at the warning tone in his voice. “Blow? You’re really getting all penis hot over that? You’re the one who brought up the analogy.”
“Penis hot?”
I shrug, unwilling to take it back.
“I can’t even say my penis isn’t hot because that’s just wrong on so many levels. But we said we weren’t going to flirt or use sexual words or innuendos with each other, and since I’m a man of my life rules, that’s how this goes for us.”
“Oh, but not cheating isn’t one of your sacred life rules? Cheater. I’m calling you a cheater. How’s that work for you?”
The man is all about his life rules. As far as I’ve been able to discern, he pops these random rules out at random times, and they all have random, nonsensical or sequential numbers. Like yesterday he said, “Life rule #208, Maia: Always let them hear your battle cry and make sure they know you mean it.” We were watching a Yankees, Red Sox game and the fans at Fenway were chanting Yankees suck. Hardly a battle cry, but I didn’t argue it.
I also wouldn’t exactly call that a life rule either, but he’s so full of them that I think he makes up on the spot.
“Let’s just call it a draw and eat some dinner while we watch the end of your technicolor film.”