The Hookup Handbook(40)
One inch at a time, I sink into the steamy, hot water, the bubbles climbing up to my neck as I hold my glass of wine high for safekeeping. Heavenly. I take a slow sip of wine, enjoying every second of the rich taste before setting down my glass next to the tub and reaching for my phone. I’m going to wash that devil and angel right off my shoulders and call upon my voice of reason instead. Luckily, I’ve got her on speed dial.
Allison picks up on the very first ring. “What’s up, coconut?”
I give her the full Case update—the surprise visit to the studio, the proposition, the wink as I headed back to the apartment. I feel like I’m in high school again, overanalyzing my crush’s every move.
“I’m just so unsure about everything,” I say quickly, annoyed at how much it sounds like I’m gushing. “Is this how a fling is supposed to feel? I don’t know how to do this. There needs to be some kind of rule book for this. Some kind of hookup handbook.”
Allison cackles. “God, I wish. I’d buy out every copy on the shelves.”
But isn’t that basically the book that Case is writing? A bit of my anxiety slips away into the tub at Allison’s words.
“I’m overwhelmed,” I admit. “I really had it in my mind that this would be a one-time thing. But now he wants to do it again?”
“Okay, so that’s what he wants,” Allison says, putting on her best matter-of-fact voice. “But what about you? What do you want, Sienna?”
And the answer hits me harder than a flying ballet slipper to the head.
What I want is Case. Maybe even all of him.
Even though I know he’s completely wrong for me.
Chapter Seventeen
Case
Checking over an email one last time, I hit SEND and glance at the time on my computer. Twelve p.m., right on the dot. Perfect timing.
“I’m heading out for lunch,” I say, standing to stretch my back.
Sienna doesn’t look up from her computer and simply nods while keeping her eyes trained on the screen. “Tell your mom I say hi.”
My lips quirk. “I always forget that you two have met.”
“Yeah, well. I don’t.” She looks up at me then, a smile on her face.
I still can’t quite read where things stand between us, but the smile and the eye contact seem like good signs. Aside from work stuff, we haven’t really talked since I told her I wanted to go another round, and it’s been killing me not to bring it up again. But the last thing I want to do is make her feel pressured into doing something she doesn’t want to do, so at this point, all I can do is wait and hope she’ll come around.
That, and do my best to ignore the constant half chub she gives me simply by existing.
I arrive at the restaurant before my mom does, taking the opportunity to ask the hostess to move us to a table by the windows, my mom’s favorite spot. We’ve made a habit of meeting for lunch every few weeks or so, especially now that there are so many logistics and details to discuss with her new place.
A few minutes after I sit down, my mom arrives, her short, dark, graying hair hanging loosely around her gently lined face. Her mouth twists into a knowing smile when she sees me.
“You didn’t bully the hostess into a table by the windows, did you?”
I stand and give her a hug, a rush of warmth and gratitude washing over me like it does every time I see her. “Bully? No. Charm? Yes. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine. But don’t think I don’t notice you changing the subject.”
We sit down, and Mom grins at me.
“Speaking of charming, how’s that little assistant of yours doing? Sienna, right?”
I sigh and rub the back of my neck. Way to cut to the chase, Mom.
Although I shouldn’t be surprised. We’ve always been close and open with each other about these kinds of things. I mean, I run a male escort service. But I haven’t told anyone about what’s really going on with Sienna yet, and in this moment, I’m not even sure where to begin.
“She’s doing well—great, actually. I mean, you saw her. Very capable, fast learner, hard worker. I helped her get a part-time job teaching at a ballet studio a couple weeks ago, and she’s been balancing it all so well, I sometimes forget this isn’t her only job.”
My mother nods, watching me closely as I answer. It’s in moments like these I wish we were maybe a little less close. Because no matter how casual I think I’m being, there’s no denying the fact that she can read me like an open book.
“Mm-hmm. And what about your relationship? Considering the fact that the two of you are crammed in that office alone together, day in and day out, surely you’ve gotten close?”
Close is one way to put it.
“Well, like I told you, she’s helping me with my book, so we’ve definitely gotten to know each other pretty well through that.”
Mom nods again, a hesitant look on her face, but before she can press me any further, our server arrives to take our orders. He refills our waters, chatting briefly with my mom about their Friday specials.
I’m grateful for the disruption to our conversation—she was getting dangerously close to putting too many pieces together. But I also know there’s no way she’s going to drop the topic.
“Well, sweetheart, I think this Sienna sounds like a very nice girl, and truthfully, like someone who’s turned out to be a wonderful asset for you.”