Sweet (True Believers #2)(29)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“No. I never have.”

The magazine suddenly became a shield between us. I clutched it tighter to my chest, well aware of the goose bumps raising on my arms and the way my ni**les were hard. “You’ve never had a one-night stand ever?” I tried to snort in derision, but it came out sounding like a shaky laugh. “Please.”

“I haven’t. Not my thing. I totally agree with you. I wouldn’t want to have sex with someone I don’t know, don’t trust, don’t care about.”

My cheeks felt hot and I licked my lips nervously, tilting my chin up so he wouldn’t see how vulnerable I suddenly felt. “So I guess you understand the friends with benefits thing better than you realized. Or maybe you would have if we hadn’t been interrupted.”

But he slowly shook his head and I shivered. “Nah. I still don’t get it.”

“Well, then you make no sense,” I told him flatly, unnerved by the way he was looking at me. When he reached out and touched my cheek, stroking the back of his hand on my skin, I jerked away. For some reason, I wanted to believe he was making fun of me. Yet I was almost certain he wasn’t. Which meant that instead of being able to retreat behind anger and indignation, I was going to have to face something that seemed scary as hell.

“I think what we can conclude here is that while I didn’t say them out loud, my thoughts were running more along the relationship line.”

“Oh,” I said, though my brain had stopped functioning the minute the R word came out of his mouth.

“So what do you think? The princess and the prick . . . it could work. Or at least we could give it a shot.”

My mouth filled with hot anxiety. “You want to have a relationship with me?” I asked, the very idea sending my thoughts galloping in opposite directions. On the one hand, the concept made me want to run away screaming, slamming the door shut behind me. On the other hand, there was something super hot about having Riley Mann as my boyfriend, even if that word made me want to choke on my saliva. “I thought you said you don’t do relationships.”

He’d said that at Nathan and Bill’s, quite clearly. Maybe he had been joking. But I couldn’t grasp that he would actually want to be with me, in the way you are with someone you’re exclusive with. I also couldn’t grasp that part of me wanted to jump straight into his arms and say yes to it. I didn’t give up control like that, I didn’t.

“I don’t. Or I haven’t in a while. Maybe we shouldn’t call it a relationship then, exactly. I mean, it’s only been a week we’ve been hanging out. Maybe it’s more like dating.”

The relief I felt was actually scary. It was like when you skid while driving in the snow and are sure you’re going to hit the guardrail or another car and then you don’t and suddenly your heart rate jacks up in relief and you gasp for air. Relationship = risk.

Yet on the heels of the relief was a profound disappointment.

What the hell was wrong with me?

“What’s the difference?” I asked. “Isn’t dating a relationship?”

Riley shook his head. “Nah. It’s totally different. Dating is what you do pre-relationship, to see if you want a relationship. You hang out, have fun together.”

“Isn’t that a friendship?” And were we really having this conversation?

“No.” Riley leaned on the dresser and shook his head, looking totally confident in his logic. “Because when you’re dating, there is an understanding you both are thinking you’d like it to be more than friendship. So even though you’re not having sex, you want to and plan to.”

Say what? “Wait a minute. You don’t have sex when you’re dating?” I wasn’t sure I understood these categories. “But weren’t you planning to have sex with me just now?”

He shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “I might have been jumping the gun a little. Trying to skip a step.”

I rolled my eyes. “So having sex now, pre-relationship or dating, would have made us friends with benefits and we can’t have that.”

“No! We’re not actually friends, you know. You can’t be friends with someone you want to have sex with, you just can’t.”

“You’ve been saying we’re friends all week! So if we’re not really friends, then you want me to be a booty call, clearly.” I knew he didn’t, but his whole insistence that we define and label whatever the hell we were doing was completely irritating. And we weren’t friends? Weren’t people in relationships supposed to be friends? Or was I even more freaking clueless than I thought? And I didn’t like being offered friendship by him, something I had actually really liked and appreciated, and now have him trying to take it away.

“No, damn it. A booty call is someone you just have sex with, nothing else. No hanging out, no conversation. You just text and make plans to hook up.”

“I’m guessing you don’t spend the night either.”

“No, of course not.” He sounded frustrated, which was exactly how I felt.

“You’ve given this so much thought it scares me.” I tossed my magazine on the floor and myself on the bed. “You’re worse than a girl and I’m done with this conversation.”

I wasn’t sure why I felt bad, but I did. This felt like rules, like a way for him to control me. I knew in my head he didn’t mean that, he was just trying to be clear, but it just made me edgy, like I was right to stay away from relationships because I didn’t know how to do this. Why did it have to be so complicated?

When he came over and tried to sit on the bed with me, I waved him away. “Just leave it for now, Riley, seriously. I’m exhausted and I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?” he asked, voice exasperated. “We’re discussing us.”

“There is no us,” I told him, feeling cranky and bitter. “You just said we’re not even friends.”

“You’re twisting my words and you know it.”

“Go. Away.” I felt like I just might have a meltdown on him if he didn’t leave me alone. And when I melt down, I say mean things. They just fly out of my mouth like darts, and I can’t stop them. So it was better in the long run for both of us if he got the f**k out of my way.

For a heart beat, he hesitated. Then he just nodded briefly. “Fine. Good night.”

Rolling toward the wall, I closed my eyes and formed praying hands. “Night.”