“Bothering you?” he asks, his voice rising.
I shush him quickly. “Don’t make a scene. This is a party for our friends. Let’s keep it that way and not turn it into whatever dramatic affair you’re about to make it.”
“Dramatic affair?”
“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”
“Repeat everything you say? Pishh.”
Oh my God, he’s annoying. Really freaking annoying.
Hot, with the best butt on a man I’ve ever seen, but beyond annoying. But I also can’t blame him, because despite the façade he’s trying to mimic—if the hurt in his eyes is any indication—he’s a man who wears his emotions on his sleeve. It must have bruised his pride to not be fawned over, or even appreciated for his kind gesture. I know I would be if I were in his shoes.
Keeping calm, I say, “Unless you have anything of substance to say to me, I suggest you move it along.”
He pauses and I can feel his eyes blaze a trail up and down my body before saying, “Damn, girl, how long has that stick been shoved up your ass?”
No, he didn’t.
Calm breaths. He’s hurt, he’s mad. You are better than this . . .
I turn to face him with a smile on my face. “Just because I don’t want to talk to you, means I have a stick up my ass? Are you being sexist?”
He smiles back and pats my arm. “No, if I was being sexist, I would have said women as a whole have sticks up their asses. As far as I can tell, you’re the only one who’s bent over and begging for a flagpole to be shoved up there.”
“Wow, you’re offensive.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm?”
He shrugs, then gives me another once-over. Motioning to my purple turtleneck dress that covers my entire upper torso and hits me just above my knees, he leans in and asks, “Are they in hiding?”
“In hiding? What on earth—?”
“Dottie, you’ve got great tits. Why are you hiding them?”
Okay, I am trying to work out if that was a compliment or a dig. I still have no clue why he’s talking to me, especially now that I know he thinks a stick is up my ass. I lean forward and press my hand to his chest, still keeping a smile on my face. “Maybe I don’t have to show off my tits to be friendly. I don’t see you hanging your balls out of your zipper.”
Of course, he smiles at that. “Want me to?”
Argh. I give up.
“You’re disgusting. Stay away from me.”
“Fine by me.” He gives me a quick pat to my arm and takes off.
The fucking nerve of that man. Are they in hiding? What was he even thinking coming over here? Let’s see how much I can push Dottie to her limits?
Well, he got me there, because I’m fired up and ready to do some damage.
“Did you try the potato salad? I heard it’s amazing.”
Seriously?
I look over my shoulder to find Jason hovering over me, plate in hand, ready to dig into the buffet of food Emory and Knox had catered.
“You’re breathing on my neck.”
“Want me to lick it too while I’m this close?”
Is he mad? Is he flirting? Is he trying to annoy me into submission? What is it? Pick a lane, man.
“I’d rather stab my eye with my fork,” I answer, putting some potato salad on my plate and moving out of the way.
Lindsay is busy talking to Carson and Milly. Emory and Knox are speaking with a few of his teammates, which leaves me to myself. It’s for the best, as I’m not feeling very conversational right now.
But as I’m about to stick a forkful of potato salad in my mouth, Jason takes a seat next to me and sets his drink on the side table between us.
This man has a death wish; it’s the only explanation why he’s coming for round two . . . or would this be three if we’re counting my office?
Ignoring him, I take a bite and—oh my God . . . this has to be the best potato salad I’ve ever had. Without even thinking, I scoop up another forkful and stuff it in my mouth. Barely chewing, just swallowing because damn, this is so good, I hear Jason clear his throat as I’m about to stick the last bite in my mouth.
“Enjoying that, aren’t you?” His smile is so wide, I want to flick it back in place with my middle finger. I felt bad for him earlier, now I’m just irritated.
“Yes,” I answer curtly as I put the last forkful in my mouth.
“Good to know, because I made it.”
My mouth pauses, the beautiful dill and sage flavoring immediately turning sour and before I can stop myself, I lean my mouth over my plate and let my half chewed-up potato salad fall past my lips and back onto my plate.
“What the—?”
I set my plate on top of his, stand from my chair, and go back to the buffet where I serve myself again, this time, avoiding the potato salad altogether.
“You look tense,” Lindsay says, carrying a glass of champagne in her hand and when I say glass, I mean a pint glass filled to the top.
Class doesn’t exist within her.
“You think?” I look around, spotting Jason talking to Carson and Knox. They all laugh at the same time, three perfect smiles gracing all their handsome faces.
“Does this have to do with Jason? Is it because you’re so overwhelmed with his hotness? Tell me about it. It’s hard being in this apartment right now with all these athletes. I mean, just look at the way they all grip their beer bottles. By the neck, like they’re choking the bitch for some nectar.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I take her pint glass away. “You need to start drinking water before you embarrass yourself.”
She retrieves her pint glass and takes a big gulp. “Embarrassing myself is in my nature. Why are you trying to change me, Dottie? Let me live.”
“Yeah, let her live, Dottie.” Jason stands in front of us, “choking” his beer while the other hand is casually tucked in his pocket.
Where the hell did he just come from? It’s as if he floated across the hardwood floor and appeared out of nowhere.
Why is he talking to me? I’m sure he doesn’t find me pleasant at this point, I don’t even find myself pleasant. Have you ever gotten yourself in a mood and have to go to bed in order to press the reset button? It’s the only way out. That’s where I’m at.
I’m mad at myself for being rude when I shouldn’t be. I’m mad at myself for allowing one single man to ruin future interactions with men to the point that I’m quick to defend and retaliate rather than befriend. And I’m mad at myself for not being able to actually be normal around someone who I’ve actually thought very highly of for quite a long time.
But for some awful reason, even though I can calculate those thoughts and feelings in my head, it’s as if I can’t translate them for my body so it will act like a normal person. And I’m sad that he probably thinks I’m a horrible human now, most definitely not worth his time. And that is not what I want, not deep down.
“Oh, Jason.” Lindsay giggles uncontrollably. “Look at you standing there with all those muscles.”
Great, Loose Lips Lindsay just made it to the party.
Like the cute doofus he is, Jason flexes his bicep and says, “Thank you.”