Fixation

“You okay?” he asks after I’ve been quiet for a while.

“Sure. I’m just…battling shock, I suppose.” I give him a small smile and look down, pretending to fix my dress when I’m actually wiping my sweaty palms on it.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says, uncertain how much of a fuck-up this really is.

“Oh, you didn’t,” I say, prompted to reassure him.

Vernon might think that this is the first time someone had asked me to be friends with benefits. But the truth is, I’ve had similar arrangements in the past.

Now that I think about it, I managed to have only one semiserious, lengthy relationship after him. All other attempts at connecting with someone were short-lived, fizzling out painlessly like an open can of soda. But most importantly, my hookups weren’t with my exes, or people I liked beyond a surface level. Unfortunately, Vernon is both of those things and, therefore, not suitable.

But I’m not going to tell him that. I’m gonna be kind and let him down easy.

“I’m flattered, Vernon, but I think I’ll pass,” I say, proud of myself.

He watches me solemnly, not a flicker of emotion crossing his face. Not that I expected my answer to crush him, but any sign of mild disappointment would be nice. Instead, he sits there like a man contemplating his next move. I begin to suspect that he expected this. And if Vernon expected it, then Vernon prepared for it.

Shit.

He moves his hand to rub his finger over his bottom lip, but his eyes stay trained on me like a hunter’s on its prey.

“Why?” he asks simply, not accepting my no, but not attacking it yet either.

You don’t have to tell him anything, I remind myself. ~Be vague.~

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He leans back in his chair like he has to get a better view of me to assess me properly. Those black, brilliant eyes roam over me, testing, probing for a weak spot.

My armpits feel clammy. I want to move, to release some of the tension seizing my muscles, but I don’t want to appear rattled when he’s a perfect picture of calm confidence.

His voice deepens as he says, “You afraid you’ll like it?”

Yes.

No.

Shut up.

“Nonsense,” I finally manage, less convincingly than I’d like. “It’s more…we’re different people now. I sincerely doubt the spark is still there.”

Yes, that’s a good excuse, I tell myself as the more intimate parts of me begin to warm up—my own body mocking me. God, I’m a bad liar. ~A terrible liar~, I think when I feel myself blushing.

“There’s an easy way to check that out.”

I muster up a cold stare. “I’m not sleeping with you to check it out, Vernon.”

He grins. “Ouch. Still, that’s not what I had in mind.”

I raise my eyebrows at him, voice strangled in my throat. He shrugs as if what he’s about to say wasn’t planned.

“It’s simple. We go out.”

“You mean…like a date?” I choke out.

He shakes his head.

“No, not like a date. It would be more like a”—he waves his hand—“a reunion.”

What a frigid word.

“We go out, have some fun, talk, get to know each other again. See if we still mesh as people. Maybe we end the evening with a kiss. Maybe we don’t. Either way, I won’t pressure you to do anything you don’t want. You have free rein. If there’s no spark, we go our separate ways.”

Maybe we kiss? The mere idea has me squirming in my chair.

“The worst that can happen is that you have a boring night. Which is, let’s be honest, unlikely,” he says, cracking his knuckles like he’s preparing to prove it.

But I’m still stuck on the idea of kissing him again.

“You can’t be this desperate, Vernon. It’s…well, kind of unbelievable,” I say, completely at a loss. Why is he so intent on this happening? “You’re a good-looking guy. A decent guy. It can’t be that hard for you to find a willing woman.”

He looks pointedly at me. “Isn’t it?”

Oh. Well.

He leans in, placing his elbows on the table. My view is only him, his broad frame cutting off the rest of the world. Determination enters his gaze as he says, “What do I need to do to make you agree to this? I’ll do it. Whatever you want. Whatever you need.”

I have to swallow down a sigh, flustered out of my comfort zone. I would have killed for these exact words when we broke up. Even now, they seem too intense, sapping my will with ease. Oh, I’m tempted. Even if I don’t plan to jump in his bed, I am curious. About him. About us.

“Say ‘yes’,” he prompts, his eyes seducing me. “Let me take you out. Then decide.”

I inhale deeply, realizing I’m screwed either way. If I decline, I’ll regret it. And if I agree to it… It’s only one night, my inner voice hums. ~Just a little bit of fun. No obligations.~

“Okay,” I finally say, throwing caution to the wind.

He bites his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling. He fails.

“Lovely,” he says with a glint in his eyes. “And I already know where I’ll take you.”

“Really?” I say, half impressed. Somewhat more at ease.

“There’s a gig tomorrow night at the Pidgeon. It’s a Smiths tribute band. You like the Smiths, right?”

He shoots me a knowing look. At least he remembers other things about me, not just how much he enjoyed our time under the sheets.

“Come on now. I love the Smiths,” I deadpan.

He chuckles. “I’ll pick you up around nine?”

As if. “Since this isn’t a date, we’ll meet there.” No need for you to know where I live.

It’s obvious he wants to argue, his good manners rebelling.

“You said I have free rein,” I remind him. “I’ll be there at nine.”

“Fine, fine,” he relents quickly. “I’ll meet you in front.”

“Good. Now”—I glance at my phone, pretending to check the time—“if that’s all, I’m gonna go.”

His eyes dart to the waiter. “Sure. Want me to drop you off?”

“No need. I drove here.” I take a tenner out of my wallet and put it on the table. He hastily picks it up and pushes it into my hand.

“Don’t start,” he says, “you can pay when you invite me for coffee.”

I shrug.

“Okay. Thanks,” I say as I get up. He rises after me. Gives me a thorough look over while I straighten my dress. When I look back at him, I’m surprised I don’t hear him purr. He looks content, like a cat with a full belly.

“Till tomorrow, then,” he says.

“Goodbye, Vernon.”