Page 12 of Big Dix

No. I say no.

I can’t believe I’ve just typed that. I’m blowing off my crush. Honestly, it feels terrible, but none of my choices seem fair to me. None of them feel right.

Clearly, I can’t meet him. Not now. Not after he’s met the real me, he’ll think I’m a quick and easy lay—a sure thing. Yeah, maybe I am; I definitely am, but he doesn’t need to know that. And I’m not ready to give up my fantasy just yet.

I turn my phone on silent, tuck it and my stupid hurt pride away, and head back out to finish cleaning up.

Somehow, this feels like a loss. Though, how can I be upset about a man I don’t even know?

The second I walk out the pantry door, my eyes land on Atticus—his eyes narrowed in concentration, fingers jabbing angrily at his phone. My phone vibrates. I pull it out of my pocket. Shit. Atticus sent another message.

@BigDix.69

I can respect your answer. I can respect you don’t need to tell me why. Just for curiosity’s sake, is it because you’re not interested? Have I put you off? Are you afraid I’ll do things to your body that will make any other man pale in comparison? I promise, my sweet BigBoo...ks, I’ll make you scream my name, over and over again like a chant, a filthy prayer.

Well, shit. Of course, he talks dirty to me. I start to type and stop half a dozen times. When I glance up in his direction, Atticus is glaring at me, his jaw tight. But then I see that sexy jaw tic thing men do and nearly get off where I stand.

How do men do that? Why is it so freaking hot?

Wait…

Why is Atticus Dixon staring at me with so much anger?

He can’t know it’s me, right? I mean, how could he? But if he doesn’t know, then why does it seem like he’s mad at me? I haven’t done anything.

I mean, if anyone has the right to be upset, surely, it’s me. He’s the one here, on a date. He’s the one talking dirty to strangers and flirting with random women working at a party. He’s the player here. Technically, I know I have information I wouldn’t usually have but really, what’s his problem?

It’s something I’ll have to examine later. I don’t have time to sort through this right now. This party is winding down, and I have shit to do. I shove my phone into my pocket.

Atticus Dixon will have to wait until later.

EIGHT

Atticus

She doesn’t answer me.

She doesn’t fucking answer me.

Evelyn plays with her phone for a few minutes and slips it into her pocket. She smiles at something her coworker says, a beautiful, cock-stirring smile, then sets about cleaning the kitchen.

Really?

I’m stunned. I know it sounds arrogant as hell, but I’m a fucking catch. I’m a decent man, I work hard, and I’m a damn generous lover.

My annoyance makes me type out another message, desperately trying to lure her in.

@BigDix.69

Have dinner with me.

I watch her pull her phone from her pocket, read my message, and tuck it away again with a sigh. Still no response.What the hell?

“Are you serious?” I mutter to myself just before Annie drapes her arms around my neck.

“Atti, I’m so bored. Let’s go back to your place,” she coos in my ear like a kitten. My nickname falling from her lips used to get me rock hard. Now, I’m not sure what I ever found appealing about the sound of her voice.

I know what she’s doing. She wants to fuck. She caught me in a moment of weakness a few weeks ago, and I gave in, and by weakness, I mean I was shitfaced. I don’t even remember sleeping with her. Not happening again. I’d rather jack off any day. Those days with her are in my past.