A Slip of the Hand

Chapter 23

I can't stop smiling as I wait for Ellie to respond to my messages, leisurely sipping coffee at a cafe in downtown Hollywood and not at all concerned about my obvious "walk of shame" look. After taking a long shower and helping myself to a yogurt with granola and a sliced banana, I left my number on a notepad in Daniel's kitchen, signed with an embarrassing excess of X's and O's. I was careful not to leave a mess in his immaculately organized kitchen. It's also part of why I didn't snoop around his condo. I was tempted, of course, but I didn't want to risk moving something out of its place. More importantly, I didn't want to violate his trust before I even earn it.

I transport my mind back to our time together, contemplating his every touch, his every glance at me. Never, ever, have I felt anything close to what I felt last night. An orgasm is usually a brief rush of pleasure that fades as quickly as it comes, not a prolonged, body-shaking explosion. And then our little romp this morning... I wonder if we'd still be in each other's arms if he hadn't had plans.

My phone buzzes with a text from an LA number. Speak of the devil!

Hey Madison. It's you-know-who, the message reads, and it includes a smiley with hearts for eyes after my name.

Hiya, I respond with a red heart emoji.

An icon lets me know he's typing, and my heart pounds with anticipation.

I want to take you out—just the two of us. Are you free tonight?

Absolutely.

An actual date, with Daniel all to myself?! Fuck, yes! And then after, he can show me some of those "things" he wants to do with me. Sore as I am, I haven't lost my appetite for him.

Daniel sends me the name of a restaurant and a time. Judging from its website, it's far more expensive than any place I've ever been to. Ellie better help me choose something nice to wear!

I'll see you then. I can't wait!

***

I got here a little early. I'm just right inside, I message Daniel.

While I wait, I smooth the skirt of my navy-colored midi dress before fiddling with the wide silver belt that wraps around my middle. I don't know why I'm so nervous. The man has already seen me naked and vulnerable. But there's something intimidating about going on a proper date with him. What if he finds me boring when there aren't others around to fill in the gaps?

My phone vibrates with a message notification: Dropping my car with the valet now.

I watch the restaurant door for a few minutes, and my heart stops when I see Oliver walk through and head straight for me.

"Hi," he says with a wide, pointed grin. His pale eyes slowly look me over. "You look stunning."

He holds out his hand, and in a daze, I take it. My blood pounds hard in my temples as I struggle to process what's happening. Oliver helps me to my feet, and I devote all of my focus to putting one foot in front of the other.

"I'm glad we can finally get some time together," he says as we're escorted to our table.

I simply nod, struggling to figure out what the fuck to do.

"Don't look so nervous!" he chuckles.

There might not be a graceful way to exit this situation. I might just have to get through it—like I'm just catching up with a friend.

A friend who I'm obsessed with... whose best friend I just fucked so hard I can still feel it.

I allow myself to smile.

A server comes over, and if he recognizes Oliver, he doesn't seem to care. He must be used to serving Hollywood's elite, working at a place like this. "Can I start you both off with something to drink?"

"Do you like wine?" Oliver asks me, and I nod. My hearing fades, overtaken by the loud thump of my pulse ringing through my head, as Oliver orders for us and I stare at my menu like it's my lifeline. Surely no one has ever been as interested in a menu as I appear to be right now.

"Cheers," Oliver says after the server pours the wine, his word cutting through the fuzz, and he clinks his glass against mine.

"Cheers," I repeat, and it's the first word I've managed to get out.

The full reality of the situation crashes into me like an on-coming car: I'm on a date with Oliver Rose.