Layers(55)

“Raging hormones? This is what Terms of Endearment does to you? No wining and dining, no foreplay, just hop on you?” I giggle. “Don’t get me wrong, not that I have any problem with jumping you at any given moment, twenty-four seven for all I care, but seriously, what’s up, D?”

“Come on, I tried to be all nice, sensitive boyfriend and watch this crap with you but this is pure torture. It is seriously emasculating. I need to make amends here, ASAP.”

I burst out laughing.

“I am not kidding, come on, no time, straddle, Hales, straddle,” he commands, looking dead serious. My stomach is sore from laughing but in parallel I feel another sweet clench forming at the pit of my insides.

Still highly amused, I ask, “Hey, can you pretend to be pissed off and say for f**k’s sake again?”

It’s his turn to look perplexed, though a he cracks a small, crooked smile.

“Enlighten me, dear,” he chuckles in a raspy, low voice.

“I just find you mighty sexy that way, Mr. Stark.” I blink suggestively, and I am gifted by a vivid, enchanting laugh which is followed by a clenched jaw and lips pressed into a thin line, though a shred of delight flickers in his eyes.

“Oh, for f**k’s sake Hales, straddle me now,” he snaps.

And straddle I do, gladly.

~~~

When I turn to sleep cradled by his firm arms, I murmur, “Tomorrow, after work, I’m going home. Ian’s coming over. You can join us if you want.”

“I don’t think I will. I have a hectic schedule waiting for me and you probably want to be alone with your friends.”

“You’re always a welcome addition,” I say, and am answered with a kiss. I burrow deeply in his embrace just before, exhausted, I close my eyelids.





Chapter 21: Poor Chinese Life Philosophy and Then Some


“Ladies, if it’s the subject of alcohol we’re dealing with here, then this is what I have to say.” Ian halts for a moment, adds a dramatic note to his voice and continues. “If you choose to brace up only one thing I ever tell you, let it be this, my dear ladies. Clear alcohol, go with clear!”

We both look at Ian sitting next to us on our white marble floor, then at each other. I bite my lips trying to subdue a wider smile, doing my very best to look attentive. I can see Tasha imitating me. Rob, on the other hand, is looking at the three of us in bored awe as if to say, “What am I doing here with this strange trio?”

Doing my best friend, Rob, that’s what you’re doing.

“Ladies,” Ian declares, drawing our attention back to him. “If you go for any other color in the booze palette, and remember I’ve warned you-try not to, but if you do, skip food.”

We both nod, feigning admiration for the dogma coming out of Ian’s beautifully lush, rubbish-preaching lips.

“Just stay away from dark alcohol. Whatever you do, gorgeous ladies, keep it away from your dreamy mouths. It is goddamn fattening.” He nods, emphasizing his belief.

“It looks tempting, but just don’t try. It’ll stay with you forever and mess with your brains. Take it from me, it’s no good.”

“Now that’s something a priest won’t be preaching.” Tasha murmurs.

“Let me see if I understand you,” I say, trying to look serious but finding it hard with the smirk spread over Tasha’s face. “In case we decide to consume alcohol, we should always choose clear liquids as they contain less calories?”

Ian sends me his zillion-dollar, adorable grin. “That’s right, gorgeous.”

I start to giggle. I can’t imagine anybody who can elate my spirit better than Ian does. He’s my own private sunshine—well, ours—Tasha’s and mine. Though now that I think of it there’s someone else who can lighten my mood just as much as Ian, though he does it in so many very different ways.

“So what did you end up ordering, Hales?” Tasha inquires, while Rob massages her shoulders.

Why do I find this so disturbing? He’s no different from any other guy Tasha’s had over till now. Perhaps the fact that he’s her boss? Or the fact that he’s in a committed relationship with someone else? Or maybe what Daniel thinks is affecting the way I feel … I shake my thoughts away and reply, “Poor Chinese.”

Ian to my side shakes his head disapprovingly, murmuring under his breath, “Oil-saturated carbs, on your thighs that’s were it’ll end.”

“Poor Chinese, what’s that?” Rob asks and the three of us laugh in stereo.

“Just greasy, cheap Chinese fast food. Our thing.” Tasha fakes being repulsed.

“We dine in style,” Ian comments wryly, adjusting his orange Scuba watch higher on his wrist.

Rob smiles and plants a kiss on Tasha’s head.

Mental note: I need to ask Tasha later about how weird it is for them to act as though it’s business as usual at the office after, well, this …

“Munch time!” Ian rejoices at the knock on our door, clapping his hands enthusiastically like a content toddler. I beam at the aura that seems to constantly surround him. He’s always so vibrant.

“My treat. I’m getting it.” I grab my purse from the shabby chic chest in the corridor, and head to the door.

Oh, shit, Daniel. Not good. Didn’t he mention yesterday that he would be tied up at work? Crap! I greet him, trying to hide my surprise mixed concern with a happy-to-see-you smile. Apparently not doing such a great job.