Hooked 4 (Hooked #4)(4)

“I did, actually. He said his dad died a long time ago, as well.”

Mel nodded, knowingly. “It was terrible.”

I brought my lips together, considering what to say next. My heart was beating fast. I almost felt like he was watching me. I knew that his new bookstore—Femme Fatale—was probably being built just at that moment, at my old dance studio. I wondered what everything had looked like, poised in rubble on the ground. “Well. He understood completely. And at first, he told me I didn’t have to play. But then I wanted to, you know. Maybe I have a bit of the blood in me, I don’t know. But I won all this money.”

Mel’s eyes widened. “You didn’t let him give it to you, did you?” she asked me, her eyes large.



“Of course I didn’t. He’d put the money up, you know. I didn’t feel right about it. But then, we went back to the hotel and we were kissing and we were having sex in this Jacuzzi—“ Again, my face reddened as I talked about it. I took another sip of my coffee. “He’s been all I’ve thought of the past few days. I can’t get him out of my head.”

“Well. And now your loan is paid off,” Mel pointed out. She placed her palm to the air and shrugged her shoulders, as if this were an obvious statement to make.

I chewed on my lip. “I don’t want him to do things like that for me,” I muttered. “I don’t want us to have that kind of relationship.”

Mel waved her hand. “I know. I know you want to be your own woman. But trust me.” She placed her hand over mine. “There will come a time when you need to lean on someone. You can lean on me for words anytime you need to, of course. I’m always here for a talk. But you’ll need more than that. You know that, don’t you?”

I considered this. I had long been so proud, so haughty. I didn’t want to feel like I was at the mercy of anyone else. And god, I didn’t want Drew to take care of my bills. I shook my head. “I still don’t think he would pay for it. He knows how much it means to me to be on my feet. To be responsible.”

Just then, Mel received a phone call. She picked it up and brought it to her ear, greeting her young husband, the father of her child. “He’s got what—? A fever?” Her eyes darted around the café. “Okay. I’ll be home right away. Do you need me to pick up anything on the way home—“


My eyes narrowed. Her baby was sick. I brought my hand to her shoulder, a comfort, and began helping her gather her things. When she hung up the phone, she was already almost out the door. “It’s no big deal, Molly. He just doesn’t know what he’s doing at home by himself, you know. By the way. Please tell me when the next class is. I can run it; we can run it together. Whatever. The point is, I had a blast today back at the studio with you.”

“Me too.” I brought my face forward and kissed her on the cheek, allowing her to dart back into the world and hail a quick cab. My thoughts went with her, back toward the water.

It was still early, around six-thirty in the evening. I walked back to my apartment, with my hands in my pockets and my mind on everything else. I felt like I was spinning. I walked up my apartment steps, thinking about Drew’s smile. It was making me swoon, a bit. I hadn’t felt this way about a guy ever before in my life. In a way, I wanted us to just be a couple—even if it lasted only a week, only a month. This way, I could have a history with someone special. I would have something to show. I could say boyfriend, and then I could say ex-boyfriend. And all would be right with the world, in a way, because I’d have proof of my life.

I unlocked the door. Boomer trounced from the table and onto the floor at my feet, meowing up at me. I patted his head, feeling the softness of his fur. “Boomy,” I murmured as I reached for his food and poured it into his small dish. I turned back toward the couch and thought about what to do. I couldn’t just sit down. I couldn’t just rest. My brain and my body felt so alive. They wanted to see more, to feel more.

Suddenly my phone rang in my pocket. I picked it up swiftly, noticing that it was a call from Drew. My throat grew dry. I hadn’t heard his voice in so many days. I swallowed, trying to practice what I would say, what he would say. I needed this to work suddenly. I needed to woo him, to make him mine.

“Hello,” I answered, trying to make my voice sexy, husky.

“Well, hello, beautiful,” he murmured back. I could hear cars whizzing by him; I could hear horns and beeps. I swallowed, picturing him walking down the street, a million invisible faces around him. “How are you doing?” he asked after a pause.

“You know, I’m doing fine.” I longed to tell him to get in my bed, to get there now. “How’s your new apartment?” I longed for him to live at my apartment complex once more, like he had a mere few weeks before. I wanted him to be in arm’s reach. But he wasn’t.

“It’s beautiful, Mol. You’re going to love it. It needs a lot of work, of course. I need an artistic eye. I’m not much for interior design.”

I allowed my eyes to graze through my shadowed, dusty apartment. I always knew what I wanted to do with it, of course. But I couldn’t afford to renovate. I was a poor renter. I needed money for cat food. “You know. I have a bit of experience with it, if you need a hand,” I spoke up finally. I felt the coffee rollicking in my veins.