Bet on It (16)
He was being bold. So bold that it made his heart race. All it had taken was a couple of slightly provocative words to bring out the lecher in him. He probably would have been ashamed of himself if he hadn’t wanted so badly—against all reason—to see where the conversation would lead. He watched as Aja’s eyes narrowed. The expression on her face wasn’t necessarily suspicious, but he couldn’t really discern its meaning. He stared back, trying not to break under her gaze.
“It’s not a completely awful idea, I guess.” When she finally spoke, he breathed audibly. First from relief that she’d broken the tension, then out of surprise at her words. “Hypothetically speaking, of course. I don’t know if anyone’s ever gotten horny over a game of bingo before, but it’s definitely not the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”
His mouth went dry. “I don’t know … those daubers are very phallic. I guess bingo is as good a place as any to get turned on.” Hell, sitting next to Aja for three hours, smelling her skin, the anticipation of waiting for her to say something, anything, to him had made not getting turned on a job in and of itself.
Aja looked at him silently, then shook her head, a small smile stretching across her mouth. “Not that I’m happy about admitting it, but you’re not wrong, I guess. The energy in there can get pretty intense sometimes. And I imagine the adrenaline rush that comes with winning is pretty heady too.”
“Imagine? You’ve never won a game before?”
She shook her head.
Walker relaxed into the booth some more, splaying his arms out along the back. He picked at the hard, cracking vinyl fabric, channeling his nervousness about the turn of their conversation into desecrating the worn furniture. “So, what you’re sayin’ is that you’ve actually been projectin’ your desire to steal my virtue as your winner’s prize this entire time?”
“Yes,” she deadpanned. “I honestly didn’t think you’d find me out.”
“How could I not? It’s written all over your face.”
“This face?” She pointed a finger at herself, her expression blank again.
He grinned. “It’s all behind the eyes, Aja.”
“Mmmhmm.” She rolled her eyes. “I think your virtue is going to be safe with me, but lucky for you I wouldn’t mind getting out of the house more, so I’ll take you up on your request. Monday nights are usually pretty bare, if you want to go then. All the little old ladies have choir practice that night.”
“Let’s do that. We can have a little more privacy.”
“And they let Mrs. Schofield call the bingo balls on Monday nights … she talks really, really slowly, so maybe you’ll have a chance of keeping up.”
Unable to stop himself, he caught her gaze. Her eyes were bright and open, and he found himself saving the image of her looking at him that way in his head.
“I don’t know about that.” Walker crossed his arms over his chest. “Somethin’ tells me I might have a hard time maintainin’ my focus with you there to distract me.”
Chapter 6
It was nothing short of a privilege that she was able to work from home. Her shiny bachelor’s degree had left her with a mountain of student loans, but it had also gotten her a job at a new-age company that made up for lackluster salaries with “radical flexibility,” Whatever the hell that meant, it had allowed her to move across the country when living in busy-ass DC had become too detrimental to her mental health. Critiques and all, Aja was endlessly grateful for her job, and she loved that she was allowed as much solitude as she desired. But she also knew something absolutely had to give.
She’d rehashed the conversation with Reniece in her weekly virtual therapy with Dr. Sharp. Her therapist was a Black woman in her mid-forties who had an incredibly kind face but also had a sternness to her that always made Aja sit up straight. She had half expected Dr. Sharp to say she didn’t need to rush to make new friends. Instead, the woman had told her that fostering new relationships would be beneficial to her. The professional opinion startled Aja. She knew it was the truth, just like she knew it was what she genuinely wanted. It was just that she was … stuck.
As a child, before an insurmountable level of anxiety had descended upon her as a teenager, it had been easy for her to make friends. She’d been quiet enough not to hog the spotlight but had enough personality to make her fun and interesting. By the time she was sixteen, she was quietly drowning in anxiety more often than not, but she already had a strong group of friends. She hadn’t sought out counseling until her sophomore year of college, and with therapy and meds, she was more outgoing than she’d ever been. That didn’t last forever though. Life happened, friendships ended for reasons other than her disorder, and the older she got, the more difficult it became to cultivate new ones. Admittedly, after a while she’d stopped trying. She self-isolated, putting strain on what connections she had left, until her closest friend was someone she was related to. It sucked. A lot. She wanted to meet people she could go out with, have fun with, talk to, but she wasn’t sure she knew how to do that anymore.
Walker and his grandmother were the first new connections she’d made in a long time. And she didn’t really feel like Ms. May counted since they only ever spoke in a very specific setting. She didn’t think Walker counted either. Mostly because she knew that whatever friendship they might build was temporary and because the way she felt couldn’t be contained to pure friendliness. She needed friends who weren’t white ladies twice her age and white dudes she kind of, maybe, sort of, possibly wanted to rub herself up against like an overly affectionate cat.