Page 26

SYMPHONY

B oth Jenna and Marietta sit on my bed as I go through my closet for the second time.

“I like the blue dress,” Jenna says.

“Diesel likes me in red,” I say, feeling frantic. I have an actual dinner date with Diesel in less than an hour, and I can’t decide what to wear. I confessed everything to Marietta and Jenna. I need besties right now.

“It doesn’t matter what she wears,” Marietta says. “He’s going to yank it off her so fast. I’d be surprised if they leave the apartment.”

“I would take that bet,” Jenna says.

I move hangers rapidly. “We’re trying to go on a proper date! Like real people!”

There’s an eruption of giggles. I whip around. “I mean it!”

“Hmm, let’s count the ways you have seen him so far,” Marietta says, sitting up on her knees. “One, he cuts you out of spandex. Two, he gets you naked at your best friend’s wedding. Three, we’re snuck out of a bar so he can rail you in his house. Four?—”

“We get it,” I snap, turning to the closet. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll just open the door naked.”

Jenna leaps off the bed. “Do it! None of the other housemate people are here this summer. That would be so fun!”

I wasn’t serious. And it’s true I have this entire space to myself for a couple of months. My scholarship only got me enough money to split a four-plex with a joint living and kitchen, but for now, it’s all mine.

Marietta approaches my closet. “Girl, we’re living vicariously through you.”

I sit on my desk chair. “Why is this so hard? He won’t care one way or another.”

Marietta comes behind me to arrange my hair on my shoulders. We painstakingly added beachy waves for almost an hour. “It’s hard because you want him to fall in love with you.”

“I do not!”

“Mmm,” Jenna says, “I think Marietta might be right.”

How can they say that? “I barely know him!”

Jenna sorts through my closet. “But don’t we all secretly want to tame the wild, reckless bad boy? Make him ours? Domesticate the beast?”

“I’m kinda all about the beast,” Marietta says. “Shame they always have to change back into a prince.”

Jenna shoots her a have-you-lost-your-mind look and pulls out a pale yellow dress with a deep neckline. “This one. Wholesome but with so much cleavage. Show him you have two sides.”

I do like that dress. And it’s long enough that I can keep my no-panties rule. “Okay. Let me put it on.”

I take it to the bathroom, not wanting them to notice that I indeed do not have underwear. I smooth it over my heavy duty bra. It has a nice waist and flares out fifties style. But the bodice has a triangular cutout that shows off a lot of boob.

It’s the right color for my hair and the waves. Nobody can be in siren red all the time.

I fiddle with my necklace and earrings before going back out. My friends have me rattled. Do I want Diesel to fall in love with me, at least eventually? It seems ridiculous. I’ve known him for a week, not counting the time we waited to see each other at the wedding.

There’s no way to predict what this thing is.

Our coffee date was nice, back to the easy chatter of the library. He was right. He was an asshole, and I didn’t accept his apology. We were going to have moments like this as our two worlds clashed.

But tonight, it will be steaks and seafood at a very nice restaurant. We’ve texted like normal people, arranging times and checking in with each other.

Maybe we are morphing into a couple. Early-stage relationship.

Shoot. I probably will want him to fall in love.

I can’t do that.

For one, I’m applying for three positions in government. None of them will work if I get arrested for public indecency or if there is too big a splash with tatted, motorcycle-riding Diesel around the poli-sci profs, all of whom have connections in my field.

A biker bar owner who probably commits a dozen questionable actions a day can’t be on my arm at political parties or election rallies.

I stare at myself in the mirror. Stop thinking ahead, Symphony. Just be happy. Enjoy him.

I cup my hand around my throat. I never would have guessed that would be so hot. I want it again. I’m not sure how to ask.

Marietta calls through the door. “Girl, he’s going to be here soon! Get out here!”

I open the door. She’s holding two shots. “Liquid courage.” She passes one to me.

I sniff it. “Fireball?”

“Yes! I bought some. It’s our lucky booze now! Besides, I’m trying to increase my tolerance. I want to keep up with the wild ones at the Leaky Skull.”

I down the shot and watch warily as Marietta takes hers. “When are you going back there?”

“Next time you do. I promise not to flash anyone.”

“We need to check with Diesel and Merrick before we go. We might be banned.”

“Oooh, do you think my boobs are on the wall? Like those pictures in convenience stores of shoplifters?” She seems taken with that idea.

Jenna comes to take our shot glasses. “What did you do with the real Marietta?”

Marietta shimmies her shoulders. “I think this was always me. And the switch has been flipped.”

Jenna and I exchange a glance.

“I have a confession,” Marietta says. “It’s a big one.”

“Hold that thought,” Jenna says. “Let me put these in the sink.”

I slide on a pair of pale gold heels and arrange the contents of my purse until she comes back.

Marietta spies my cache of condoms. “Good call.”

Jenna bounces back in. “Well, what is it?”

Marietta waits until both Jenna and I are sitting on the bed, waiting.

Then she blurts out, “I auditioned at Silk Pearl today.”

“What?” I cry.

“Why?” Jenna asks.

“I just wanted to try it out.” Marietta sits on the chair, fiddling with the hem of her shorts. She seems surprised at our reaction.

We should be more supportive. “How did it go?” I ask.

“They didn’t hire me.” She stares at her hands.

“Did they give you a reason?” Jenna sounds relieved.

“I need to tone my belly.” Marietta lifts her shirt and pokes at her perfectly smooth skin.

“But you’re so skinny!” I say.

“I need to have definition, they said. It’s a competitive field. But they liked that I had tiny tits. Their words. Apparently, some people dig that.”

“Are you going to go back?” Jenna asks.

Marietta shrugs. “I’m doing crunches every day.”

“Okay,” I say. “Please let us know if you go again. We’ll go with you. We don’t want you to be in danger.”

“Oh, Silk Pearl is nice. There were a ton of women there and men in suits. I hung out to watch the lunch crowd.” She sits up tall. “I even paid for a lap dance so I could see what it was like.” Her eyes light up. “Did you know men aren’t allowed to touch the dancers, but they are fine if women do?”

Oh, goodness.

“Our little Marietta’s branching out,” Jenna says. “Do you think you’re bi?”

Marietta shakes her head. “Oh, no. We ended up talking about bra sizes and if she had any tips for me to get things that fit as well as hers did. You know, before she took it off.”

I cough into my hand. “Oh. Okay. Wow.”

“Don’t be so shocked,” Marietta says. “You had sex in a classroom.”

She has me there.

Jenna holds out a hand to squeeze Marietta’s. “I’m not saying I disapprove. I think sex work is fine as long as no one is being taken advantage of. But why get a master’s degree in political science if you’re going this direction? It might disqualify you for a lot of jobs.”

“Oh.” Marietta looks at her hands again. “I didn’t think of that.”

“It’s all right,” I tell her. “You have time to figure this out.”

There’s a knock at the door.

“Oh, shit, he’s here.” I jump up, taking one more look in the mirror on the back of my closet door.

“You look perfect,” Jenna says, snatching up her backpack. “We’ll make sure to leave in case you don’t make it to the restaurant at all.” She pulls on Marietta. “Come on.”

“Okay, okay.” Marietta picks up her purse. “You two have fun.”

When I open the door, Diesel is there. He’s a hybrid of the two ways I’ve known him, dress pants like the wedding, but a tight black shirt under a leather vest. And the skull chain.

His dark hair is GQ perfect, a thick wave across his forehead. His beard is trimmed to an edgy scruff. He smells divine, like a forest.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

Jenna scoots by us. “Don’t mind us! We’re leaving!”

Marietta pauses. “Compliment her hair. We spent an hour on it.” She follows Jenna out.

We wait until they’re down the open corridor and descending the metal stairs.

“So,” Diesel says. “About your hair.”

I shake my head. “It’s all fine. Let’s go.” I pull the door closed and lock the deadbolt.

“I’m just saying, the helmet might crush it.”

I pause. “You brought a motorcycle?”

“I did. Two helmets. Thought you might want a ride.”

“I do.” I’ve been dying for this.

“But the hair.”

“Who cares about the hair?”

He looks down at my dress. “You’ll have to bundle up that skirt.”

“Will do.” I hesitate. “Or should I change into pants?”

“Nah. People do it all the time.” He gestures to the stairs. “After you.”

We make it to the first step when I feel a tug on my arm. I turn to him.

“Maybe wait one sec.” His voice is low and growly.

“Yes?”

He presses me against the wall. “I want to take the edge off first.”

“The edge—” He silences me with his mouth, his lips teasing, then getting more forceful. His tongue slips inside, running across mine.

His arms circle my back, drawing me against him. Everything responds to him, heat flooding my chest, my belly, pooling between my legs.

I can feel him hard against me. We are so hot for each other. I didn’t know it could be this way between two people. Certainly not again and again.

He reaches for a breast and grips it hard in his hand. I feel slick and wonder if I shouldn’t go back for panties after all. But then his hand is sliding up my leg, fingers pressing inside me.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he says against my mouth. “I’m going to get you off, then we’ll get dinner.”

I can’t argue, flooded with the need for what comes next like an addict wanting a hit. The edges of my skirt tickle my calves as he works me, plunging deeply, curling to that spot he already knows so well.

I cry out against his mouth, then pull my face away to bury against his shoulder. I muffle the sounds against the leather as my body clamps down on his hand, juggernauts of pleasure cascading over me.

He goes still, letting me come down. I clutch his shoulders, turning my head to rest my cheek on the dampness of the leather. My breathing slows, and the ache in my calves reminds me I’ve been standing on tiptoe.

I’m going to feel that tomorrow.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he says, withdrawing his fingers. “You ready to eat?”

I glance back at my door. I might be ready to keep going. Who needs food when you have Diesel?

But he takes my hand and leads me down the stairs.

Dinner it is.