My head snaps up and I look at him with actual confusion. I open my mouth to respond, but he doesn’t let me.
“You just want me as your secret. You’re the one who suggested we be fuck buddies, August. Don’t forget that. You wanna fuck me but you won’t date me. So who’s using who?”
My heart falls to my stomach and I go to reach for him, but he jerks his arm away and flings the truck door open.
“Remi, wait!” I say, but he slams the door and walks away. I want to follow him—to tell him that’s not it at all. To tell him I was scared to ask for more. But it’s too late. He’s already across the parking lot and heading home.
6
Remi
When I wake the next morning, it feels like a freight train is running through my head. My stomach lurches and I clench my jaw and pinch my nose, willing myself not to puke. I look down my body and see that I’m still in my jeans and boots from last night. At least I managed to make it to the couch before I passed out.
I close my eyes, breathing deeply, and try to recall what happened last night. I feel my phone buzz in my pocket and pull it out.
Nine missed calls and six texts from August.
Shit.
I type in my passcode and open the messages.
* * *
August: Hey, did you make it home OK?
August: Remi, please just let me know you made it home.
August: I’m sorry, I feel like an asshole. Just want to know you’re safe.
August: Okay, you’ve made me worry enough.
August: I’m driving over.
August: You left your front door unlocked so I locked it. I locked up your truck too and left the keys under your doormat. I’m sorry . . . again.
* * *
I feel bad. I should’ve at least texted her back. I think back to the conversation we had last night. I don’t remember everything that was said, but I do remember the way she pushed me off of her when Jade saw us—like she was ashamed or embarrassed to be seen with me like that. The thought makes my stomach curl again, and I toss my phone on the coffee table.
I swing my legs around and slowly sit up, hoping the movement doesn’t worsen the pounding in my head, but it doesn’t help. I lean forward, letting my head rest in my hands for a moment before I get up.
I grab my phone again and pull up the text thread with August.
Me: Hey, just waking up and seeing all your messages. Thanks for locking up for me.
I question if I should say more, but I don’t. I’m not sorry for what I said to her last night. It’s how I feel and it needed to be said. After I talked to Lane, I thought about what he said—how he thought I was using her—but the reality is, she’s using me. She wants a dick she can ride when she wants to while she goes off and looks for her Mr. Happily Ever After. The thought makes me pissed all over again. I look down to see the three floating dots that indicate she’s texting me back.
August: Thanks for letting me know. Hope you’re not in too much pain from the hangover. I’d love to talk. Let me know when you’ve got time.
That right there sets me off: the fact that she thinks I’m at her beck and call. I hastily type out a quick reply—right to the point—and hit SEND before I can talk myself out of it.
Me: Not ready to talk, need space.
I’ve buried myself in work, gone camping, contemplated moving to Montana to avoid life, and finally settled on going to the gym seven days a week. It’s all in the hope of forgetting about my feelings for August.
I was actually surprised that she didn’t respond to my last text. Well, she technically did with just a “k,” the universal symbol for “I heard you but I’m pissed about it.” Doesn’t matter; I’ll take it. I also appreciate the fact that she’s actually giving me space.
I can’t think of any other way to work through this. I don’t blame her. She didn’t know I was in love with her when she asked to hook up, and I sure as shit didn’t tell her it was a bad idea. In reality, we both used each other.
I groan as I bend backwards, trying to arch my back into a comfortable stretch, but it’s not working.
“You should give my class a shot. Might help with those mobility issues you’re having.”
I turn around and see a petite brunette standing behind me. She’s wearing a bright pink sports bra and matching tights that hug every inch of her curvy little frame. I’ve seen her in here before, but only from a distance in passing. But damn is she beautiful up close.
“That right?” I ask, her big brown eyes meeting mine. “And what kind of class is that?”
“Pilates. I teach four classes a week. I also teach a meditative yoga class a few evenings if that’s more your taste.” She folds her arms across her chest, emphasizing her ample cleavage. She might be petite, but she makes up for it in other areas.
“Never tried it.” I take a swig of water from my bottle and she leans against the wall next to me.
“I offer hands-on guidance.” Her tone changes and her eyes scan me slowly . . . all the way down my body and back up. Now that’s a message I can read loud and clear.
“My giant ass would probably be falling all over the place. Wouldn’t want to hurt you.” I hear my own voice drop an octave. Call me crazy, but her pupils look like they dilate a little at my response.
“Don’t let my small frame fool you. I can handle it.”
Fuck me.
If her signals weren’t clear a second ago, they’re crystal now.
“Remi,” I say offering my hand. She reaches out and shakes it firmly, her eye contact not wavering.
“Leigh.”
“You new here?” I motion around the gym with my finger.
“Yeah. Started teaching here when I moved to the area about three weeks ago. I was in Boulder. That’s where I’m originally from—born and raised.”
“Ah, one of those uppity granola types, huh?” I joke.
“I guess you could say that.” She rolls her eyes. “I get that a lot. I mean, I teach Pilates and yoga and I’m a vegetarian, so I guess it’s not too far off.”
“Vegetarian? So no meat then?”
“Right, no meat. But I guess I should clarify . . .” she says, cocking her head to one side, “. . . no animal meat.” She emphasizes the word meat before seductively dragging her teeth over her bottom lip.
“Well, damn,” I say around a laugh, and I think I feel myself blushing. “You’re not very subtle, you know that?”
“Yeah, I get that a lot too. I figure there’s no point. I prefer honesty, so might as well just put it all out there.”
“I like a woman who knows what she wants and goes after it.” She just stares at me, so I figure what the hell? I might as well go after it. “What time you get off?”
“My last class is at 7. I’ll be out of here by 8:15.”
I’m about to ask her where she lives or if she’d rather I pick her up here and take her back to my place, but I stop myself. I’m not going to keep repeating this same pattern of seeing a woman, fucking her, and then figuring things out. I want to get to know her and see if there’s potential. She’s sexy, confident, and seems to have her shit together.