𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟏𝟎𝟏 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐗𝐈𝐗

• 19 •

People always say that British accents are hot, but I never paid mind to accents. My best friend in sixth grade and my English teacher in Junior year were the only people I met who sounded like they came straight out of an action blockbuster. Dominic Jensen would be the third.

The introductions were brief. Dominic and I shook hands, Dominic said to call him Dominic because Dom sounds too kinky, Keenan introduced me as a friend, and Dominic told us that Keenan forgot the words 'with benefits'. After that I headed for the bathroom with my clothes in hand because I felt too exposed in a big black shirt with a stranger. Had the stranger been single and I not in a complicated sandwich between two writers already, I would not have given a fuck. That wasn't the case.

When I got out of Keenan's bathroom clothed in my clothes and drowning in his scent because your girl snagged some rich man perfume, I was alone. Glancing at the digital clock on his nightstand, I'd been notified that it's half-past eight in the evening. It's the perfect time to head home because I'm sure as hell not spending the night with my mentor.

I collected my things in the living room, hearing the laughter of two males from the kitchen. Yes, laughter. Keenan Travino was laughing. With a friend. Fucking hell, what has the world become?

Quietly, I peaked through an arc, wanting to bid Keenan a gestured goodbye. He had other plans. After a polite—yes, polite—excuse to Dominic, he met me in the living room, still lacking a shirt. Even though we spent hours naked, this man's body hits the same if not more. He crossed his large arms in front of his chest before he spoke, "Leaving so soon?"

My brows furrowed, "What do you mean? two rounds not enough for you, Mr. Travino?" I teased lamely, also reminding us both that it's all just sex. Of course.

"I was expecting four," he replied and I cannot tell if he's joking or not, "And your pizza's getting cold."

I laid my hands on my hips and kept a smile in. I spoke again, teasing in a tone that I know will annoy my mentor, "Is someone turning soft for me?"

When a glare appeared on Keenan's face, it was enough to tell me that no, he's not turning soft for you, Gia. Not even physically. He replied, "Yeah, sure, if you think offering a fellow human a basic need for an evening equates to turning soft."

I rolled my eyes at Keenan, "I'll just eat at home. Plus, I don't feel like being in the same room with Alicia's boyfriend—Alicia who likes Adil and Adil who's still waiting for me."

Something clicked behind Keenan's pretty face. The dip between his thick brows deepened, "Waiting? What do you mean waiting?"

"Nothing," nothing, really. As far as this man knows, Adil and I are exclusively dating. We aren't, but I let the dude kiss me casually because, well, I'm guilty for lusting over Keenan. Plus, Adil's been reminding me that he's waiting and I wouldn't wanna waste his patience. Adil's a great man. Keenan is more of a one-time thing. Travino's a star, he deserves someone who's not me. I spoke again, "I should go before it gets really late."

"Gianna, you live alone, no one'll care if you go home at six in the morning," said Keenan, taking steps forward until he's a foot away from me, "And what do you mean waiting? Waiting as in you'll meet him tonight?"

"Don't pry, Mr. Travino," I used his own peeve against him.

"I can go ask Adil, but I don't think he'll be honest with me," Keenan narrowed his eyes, "I don't think he's as truthful as he seems," that was enough to intrigue me.

I mimicked Keenan, crossing my arms in front of me and shifting my weight to one foot. Before I could speak again, this motherfucker decided to frustrate me, "But because we're not allowed to pry, I'm not telling you anything," he said.