This should be interesting. “Go ahead.”
“First, there is the fact that I feel like you should willingly submit yourself to the very noble cause of feminine hedonism by enjoying Marco.”
I rolled my eyes. While it was an argument, it wasn’t a particularly good one.
Only some parts of me agreed with my assessment, though.
“Second,” she went on, “he likes you.”
“Untrue.”
“He lights up every time he looks at you.”
There was a hollowed-out feeling in my stomach that I couldn’t define. “He does not.”
“He really does.”
“Then he’s acting. That’s the entire point of all of this.” Of course he looked at me that way. He had to. Otherwise no one would ever believe our scheme.
“Okay, then somebody needs to give that man an Academy Award, because he is just that good. And you are not an expert on men’s feelings. Let’s not forget about the fact that you are completely clueless whenever a guy likes you.”
I scoffed. “Not true.”
“Oh yeah? What about that time we went out to the Moonlight Lounge and that guy flirted with you? He said you were beautiful, and your response was, Thanks, but you just think that because I’m wearing this new lipstick shade called Rosy Dreams, and then you described the ingredients, and he didn’t so much walk away as he did run.”
My memories of that event were completely different than hers. That man had not been hitting on me. “He was just being nice.”
“He was interested, and you were oblivious. You can be aggressively dense sometimes. He asked if he could buy you a drink.”
“But I already had a drink.”
“I rest my case, Your Honor. Third, you and Marco have so much chemistry that I feel like I should be wearing lab goggles whenever I’m around you. And it’s my job, so I know what I’m talking about.”
“That’s not—there isn’t any—” Everything she was saying was wrong.
“He flirts with you.”
“I’m sure Marco flirts with everyone,” I countered. It was probably as normal to him as breathing.
“He didn’t flirt with me, and men usually flirt with me. I saw him flirting with you at the party.”
A little flutter filled my chest. He didn’t flirt with Catalina? That was new, interesting information. “It wasn’t real flirting. He was practicing.”
“You think that man needs to practice how to flirt?”
“No, we had to practice me being used to it.”
“Oh. I guess I can see that. You do freak out a lot.”
It was true. I couldn’t even argue with her. “Maybe this whole thing is like some kind of transference situation. I can’t have Craig yet, so I’m transferring those feelings onto the hottest guy closest to me.”
“Love the one you’re with? I don’t know if I buy that as an explanation, but okay. However, please allow me to repeat myself by saying that you are oh so very screwed.”
Again, I was extremely concerned that she was not wrong. I was going to win this war with my hormones. I might have been down for a couple of battles, but I was the boss of my body. “Nobody’s getting screwed.” I paused as I realized what I’d said and then hurried to add, “It’s just mind over matter, right?”
“We deal solely in matter, so you know that doesn’t work.”
“What about it being the thought that counts?”
“If that were true, then I would lose ten pounds today because I thought about eating healthier and exercising and instead I ate an entire bag of Fritos and had a two-hour nap.”
I grit my teeth together in frustration and did another sweep of the giant living room / kitchen area to make sure he hadn’t sneaked in behind me and was listening to every single humiliating word. All clear.
“I need your help in figuring out what to do next,” I said.
“To be honest, I don’t know,” she said. “That caliber of man is above my pay grade. Give me a nerdy dude who thinks I walk on water any day.”
I was about to tell her that I suspected Marco might be a secret nerd but figured this wasn’t the time to add fuel to her quest to get me to hook up with him. “Tell me something bad about him.”
“Okay . . . he’ll probably cheat on you. Men who look like that usually do.”
“That’s not really fair. He’s told me in the past that he doesn’t do it and doesn’t want to cheat in the future.” I didn’t tell her about his dad, which was weird. I usually told Catalina everything, but it felt like something personal he’d trusted me with, and I didn’t want to betray him.
“The whole tell me bad things about him thing is not going to work if you keep defending Marco,” she reminded me.
“Right.”
“Um, he’ll never choose you over that company. He’s very dedicated to it. Neither will Craig, for that matter.”
Oh. That was a slightly painful one. Was it true or was she just trying to come up with stuff?
“From what you told me, he seems very competitive. And sometimes that can be a good thing, and other times it’s just annoying. Mark in the con column.”
“Okay, but coming up with a list of things about him that annoy me, and there are many, isn’t going to be enough to turn off whatever this is.”
“Keep all hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times? Just don’t act on it? I personally think that’s a mistake and that you should stake a claim on Mount Marco as soon as is humanly possible, but here we are. The only way to not hook up with him is to just not hook up with him.”
She made it sound so simple, and it wasn’t feeling that way at all. Plus, I wasn’t so much concerned about hooking up with him because I couldn’t imagine that happening, especially given that he didn’t see me as a potential hookup partner. He treated me like I was his kid sister or something.
And I didn’t want to be a joke. Or someone he felt sorry for.
My biggest problem was that I didn’t want to be in love with Craig and lusting after his older brother. I needed an off switch.
There was a crashing sound on her end, and she swore and then said, “I hope that helps. Rufus just knocked something over. I’ve got to go. Good luck, though. Call me if you need me.”
Rufus was her dog, and he hated everyone in the world except Catalina. He never seemed to like it when she and I were chatting. I could only imagine how he treated the men she dated. I hung up the phone and put it back in my pocket.
Which left me alone in Marco’s condo with my lascivious thoughts. I walked over to his bookcase and started going through his books. Some thrillers, some that looked like college textbooks, nonfiction business books. I ran my fingers across their spines, not really seeing the titles because I was again thinking about what he looked like when he showered. All that water running down that perfectly sculpted chest and—
“Anna?”
I shrieked and then dropped the book I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Marco was not helping my current situation—he looked like he hadn’t even bothered to towel off. Droplets of water shone in his dark hair, and his clothes stuck to his skin, outlining some of those incredible muscles that were begging to be explored. Not by me, of course, but somebody should be doing it. It felt like a disservice to all women everywhere that it wasn’t happening.