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"Okay. I'm grateful I have you in my life."
"I'm grateful for you too," she says. "Oh, and guess what?"
"What?"
"Hank tried to kiss me last night."
"And?" I asked her, wondering if she was open to it.
"Ew."
"Ew?" I repeat her sentiment. "So, you didn't like it?"
"He's a horrible kisser. He slobbered all over me." She shudders. "Nothing like your Zeus."
"Oh," I say to her as I remember I haven’t told her everything that happened last night. "You don't know."
"I don't know what?"
"Zeus has a name."
"How do you know his name? Are you stalking him?"
"No, I’m not stalking him, but I do know his name is Jackson Pruitt. I met him at an interview. And, of course, I didn't get the job. But then, guess who was at the club last night?" I whisper.
"No." Her eyes are as wide as saucers. "Not Zeus."
"Yes," I say, nodding. "He even gave me and the kids a ride home last night."
"And did he stay the night? Is he in your room right now? Oh my gosh. Did you shag him?"
"No, I did not shag him. And who are you, Austin Powers?"
"No." She giggles. "But I'd love to be in an Austin Powers movie."
"I know you would," I say. "He even asked me for my number."
"No way. Are you going to go on a date with him? Has he called yet?"
"No, I didn't give him my number. Are you crazy? He doesn't want to take me on a date. He probably just wants to bang me in another expensive hotel. I’m sure of it."
"And you would say no to that?" She giggles. "Didn't you say he was like the best sex of your life?"
"He was totally the best sex of my life, but I don't need any more drama in my life right now. Not even for good sex. And girl, trust me, that man has gotten under my skin. I know I’ve gotten under his skin as well. It's better for us not to be around each other or in any contact."
"But you barely know him. How can you get under each other’s skin?"
"I just know. Trust me, I don't want to get to know him any better because he's the sort of guy who will ruin your life. He's the sort of guy who worms his way into your brain, heart, and soul until you don't even know how you've lived without him."
"Whoa," she says. "You really like him." There’s a glint of understanding in her eyes, and I frown.
"No, not at all. I don't like him. I just…" I pause as she looks at me in disbelief. “It’s not that. It’s just I know that he’s not the sort of guy I should have in my life. Everything with him is just too electric. You know what I mean.”
“Nope,” she says with a knowing smile. “It sounds like this man means something to you. Whether you want to admit it or not. And it sounds like you mean something to him as well.”
20
Jackson
