Getting Schooled (The Wright Brothers #1)(37)

“Well,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Nobody’s voice has quite the same mean-sexy-bougie blend as yours. It’s distinctive.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to smile even though I was alone. “Ha ha. Funny.”

“Wasn’t trying to be funny, I was being honest. How’d you get this number?” – Oh, shit! I didn’t even think about how I was going to explain that – “I’m going to assume an abuse of power, but I’ll let it slide this time if you answer a question for me,” he said. His voice was suddenly muffled, like he was moving around, and balancing the phone against his ear. “Settle a debate between me and this girl – you’re cooking spaghetti, right? Break the noodles or leave them whole?”

Girl?

What girl?

Who the fuck was he cooking with at nine o’clock on a Friday night?

I mumbled something about how “everybody knows you’re supposed to break them in half, stupid,” and then something unintelligible about having to go. I ended the call, and sat there wondering what kind of non-cooking ass girl he had at his place that didn’t know you were supposed to snap the goddamn noodles before you put them in the damn pot, even if the box didn’t say that.

Ugh!

I completely understood how irrational it was to be fuming about this, for several reasons: I didn’t know who he had over. It wasn’t my business anyway. I didn’t know why she was over there. It wasn’t my business anyway. It had been a month since we slept together. It wasn’t my business anyway. Even if it had been a day since we slept together, we didn’t have any type of commitment. He didn’t owe me anything. And it wasn’t my business anyway.

But I wanted it to be my business.

I fell over onto my side, burying my face in the soft pillows that decorated the couch. My problem of wanting to talk to, wanting to see Jason wouldn’t actually be a problem if I’d worked up the courage to just do it before now. I’d started to, the day we were together in the office, ask him if he wanted to grab a late lunch after. It was bold for me, and I surprised my damned self when I opened my mouth to actually say the words.

It had the power of spontaneity behind it. I wasn’t thinking about anything except how much, in that moment, I was enjoying talking with him. At this point, Jason knew things about me that Gray didn’t even know, had never cared to ask, and it felt good to be in the moment like that with somebody other than Devyn or my mother. Having shallow fun and good sex was one thing – a real connection was something totally different.

And then it was interrupted.

Maybe it had been a one time thing… right? It was crazy to think that we could replicate what I felt in that moment when he said my dream was valuable. Or when he referenced a romance novel to me, or teased me about the sounds I made during sex, or— Shit.

My phone started ringing, and it was him.

I slid it away from me.

Instead of sitting there and staring at it, I got up and did something – anything – else. I took a shower, played in my braids, painted my toenails, rearranged my Tupperware and cleaned out my refrigerator. By the time I stopped forcing myself to not look at my phone, almost two hours had passed.

The little blue LED on top was blinking, taunting me, reminding me that there was a missed call, and I was going to have to address it, at some point.

I picked up the phone like it was hot, and slid my fingers across the screen to unlock it. Turns out there was not only a missed call, but a text message too.

“Hey, I think we got disconnected. You were saying something, but it was muffled, and then the call dropped. Hit me back. – Jason.”

Yes, I’d already saved the number in my phone.

For a few minutes, I sat there, biding my time, not wanting to seem too eager with a quick text back. But then I realized he’d sent it almost two hours ago.

Shit.

I had to respond now.

“Yeah, bad signal or something. I didn’t want anything though. Didn’t mean to interrupt anything with your girl.”

So that was slightly petty, and I knew that when I hit send. What was more petty, and unintentionally so, was sending that kind of message at this time of night, when they were probably still together. I wasn’t that kind of girl.

“My girl? Are you talking about Brielle? – Jason.”

I frowned.

“Uhh, I guess so? The one who didn’t know how to cook spaghetti?”

“Ha! Well, she’s only six years old, and the box doesn’t say to break the noodles. Don’t judge her too hard. ;) – Jason.”

Oh.

So…

“And she’s my niece. – Jason.”

Whew.

“Yeah, I thought it was probably a little kid.”

“You realize that contradicts your statement just a couple of texts ago? You ain’t gotta lie, princess. – Jason.”

“And you had to want something, or you wouldn’t have called. So, what’s up? – Jason.”

“Nothing really. You still babysitting?”

I flinched when my phone went off, notifying me that instead of just texting back, Jason had decided to call. I took a deep breath, then slid my thumb across the screen, allowing the call to connect.

“You know this is a pet peeve for some people, right? Responding to a text with a phone call? You don’t have any kind of manners.”