Where We Belong (A Touch of Fate #1)(34)

“Okay, Quinny. But now I’m worried about you.”

“Harley, quit worrying about me. You’ve got an entire weekend to yourself. You need to go out and do something fun. Tell me what you have planned.”

“Well, I’m cleaning right now. I’ve got some laundry to do, the dishes need to be washed, the floors could use a good scrubbing—”

“Jesus Christ…” she moans, effectively cutting me off. “You’re twenty-seven, Harley, not seventy-two. The cleaning can wait. You have no kid and no responsibilities for two-and-a-half days. Do you realize that you could go get shit-faced and sleep in the next day? Seriously, when is the last time you’ve been able to do that?”

She’s got a point. Usually when I go out, I only have a drink or two because I know that I’ll have to pick up Max the next day. When was the last time I got drunk? Or even had a buzz? Honest to God, I can’t remember.

“You’re right!” I announce proudly. “I deserve to have some fun. I’m going to call Levi and make him take me out.”

“Atta girl…” she praises. “Now go get all dolled up and have some fun.”

“Thanks, Quinn. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Have fun tonight.”

“I will, and you have fun too. Bye, babe," she says, hanging up the phone.

I look at my watch—five-thirty. Plenty of time to clean and then jump in the shower. It’s easy for Quinn to say ‘no housework’ because she’s never had to pick up after a four-year-old boy. I gather Max’s toys and toss them in the toy box and then make quick work of sorting through the dirty laundry before throwing a load into the washer.

I type out a quick text to Levi, telling him that we’re going out tonight, and I jump in the shower, relishing the fact that for the first time in a long time I don’t have to rush.

I shower until the water runs cold, forcing me of out my slice of heaven. Crap, that was amazing! I make a note to do that more often.

Throwing the shower curtain back, I reach for my towel and wrap it around my head before wrapping another one around my body. The red light blinks on my phone, indicating a missed call. I pick it up. Damnit. I press 'talk' to call Levi back and make my way into the closet to find something to wear tonight.

"Hey, Harley! I just called you," he says, answering the phone.

"Yeah. Sorry about that. I was in the shower." Reaching up, I grab a few tops and a pair of jeans and toss them onto my bed. "So, where should we go tonight?" I ask, releasing the towel from my grip. "I was thinking we could go get a pizza or maybe Mexican and then hit up some bars. What are your thoughts?"

"Harley," he sighs. "I'm sorry, I can't go out tonight. Marco called in sick and I had to step in and help out in the kitchen." It’s obvious when he steps outside the restaurant because the commotion that I’d been hearing in the background disappears, replaced by the faint sound of the wind blowing into the phone.

"Are you serious?" I whine, throwing myself back on the bed.

"I'm sorry, Harley. Call Quinn."

"I already did," I lament. "She has a hot date."

"What? Really? With who?"

"I don't know. She wouldn't tell me. Must be someone special if she's keeping it tight-lipped. Damn, this sucks. I don’t have Max for a whole weekend and I'm lying naked on a pile of really awesome clothes that I wanted to try on." Pulling myself up, I shimmy on my underwear.

Levi doesn't respond, but I can hear him murmuring something to himself. "Levi? You there?"

"Yup. I'm here," he responds on a deep exhale. "I'm reminding myself that you're just my friend. Only my friend. Nothing more. Right?"

I can't stop the laugh that bubbles up my throat. "Right. If it makes you feel better, I'm putting my sweatpants on now, so I'm not naked anymore."

"What? Why?" he asks. "You have to go and do something. Seriously, Harley, you can't sit at home and clean all weekend."

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do?" I ask, throwing my hand in the air. "Am I supposed to get all dolled up and go out by myself? You know me better than that. No way in hell."

"Tyson."

"What about Tyson?"

"Call him. See if he wants to hang out tonight. I mean, that's what you guys are doing, right? You're becoming friends again, and friends hang out. Call him."

Sliding the towel off my head, I run my fingers through my tangled hair. "No. I can't call him tonight. We already have dinner plans tomorrow night."

"Who cares? Look, I have to go. I'm really sorry. I'll try and stop by Sunday evening to see Max."

"It's okay. I'll see you Sunday." I move to end the call when I hear him yell my name through the phone.

"What?"

"Call. Him." He hangs up before I can respond to his bossiness and I'm left staring at my phone in confusion.

I can't have drinks with Tyson tonight. Can I? Although I can't really deny that I would love to see him again, and it would be really nice to see him outside of work. In fact, since our lunch and brief texting session yesterday, I haven't been able to get him off of my mind.

You know what? Fuck it! I pick up my phone and scroll down to his name. My thumb hovers tentatively over the ‘talk’ button as I give my self an internal pep talk. There is no reason to be nervous. We are friends and friends have dinner and drinks. The only problem is that I can't stop picturing myself shoving Tyson up against a door so that I can rip his pants off, fall to my knees, and worship every inch of his body. And I can't stop imagining him hovering over me and making sweet love to me.