Part 58 (1/2)
”Perfectly fine. You were just sticking up for your friend. I get it. Listen, I traded numbers with her, but unless you need anything, I think I'm going to head back home.”
”Nah,” Natalie shook her head, pretending to roll up her sleeves. ”I've got this s.h.i.+t from here. You have a good night, and I'll be sure to let her know about her Good Samaritan. After all, I make a h.e.l.l of a wingwoman when I'm working with someone who's not an unrepentant p.r.i.c.k...”
”Glad to hear it. I'm in her phone under Dalton if she gets to be a bit much to handle.”
”Cool beans. See ya.”
With that, I paid out my tab with the bartender and started walking out of the bar. The placement of things put me walking straight past Clara's table, and I wound up strolling through her strike zone.
”You leaving?” She asked morosely.
”I'm afraid so. Long night. I'm in your phone though, and Natalie's coming straight over. You take care now. See you soon, maybe?”
She grabbed me by the tie and pulled me into a deep, pa.s.sionate kiss. I was temporarily stunned by the fervor she threw into it, and I couldn't help but return the intensity, steadying myself against her table.
”Goodbye, Dalton,” she sultrily whispered as we separated lips.
”Bye, Clara,” I huskily replied back.
After that, I walked outside, letting the brisk air clear my head from what just happened.
What DID just happen? I asked myself.
When no answer came, I sighed quietly, shook my head with an amused grin, and began to whistle my way back towards the parking garage. Whatever just happened, I wasn't even mad that I wasn't bringing that fine plate of p.u.s.s.y home with me.
Which meant that I probably liked the girl.
Well, I chuckled to myself. That's new.
41.
Arrogant Brit
Chapter 4.
The following morning, I woke up with only a mild hangover. As I pulled myself out towards the kitchen, I spotted Natalie on the couch. Sitting cross-legged with a bowl of cereal, she was lounging in pajamas that were probably more expensive than my entire bedroom.
Even after a few weeks here, I hadn't gotten over how nice Nat's apartment was. Even if she insisted that it was ours and not just hers, I couldn't pretend to own any of this opulence.
The far wall was a seamless sheet of gla.s.s, overlooking the river. I had a fantastic view of the distant suspension bridge, the city park below, and several nearby, aesthetically pleasing buildings.
The floor across the entire apartment was a rich, polished green tile, which worked well with our premium black kitchen appliances, stone white countertops, and concrete walls.
As for our living room itself, a large, black sectional couch with matching ottoman and chaise dominated the area, facing away from the back bedrooms. Front and center was a wall-mounted flat-screen smart TV, perfectly suited for her fixation on binge-watching her streamed shows.
Rounding out Natalie's other major vice was a corner bar area, close to her bedroom (naturally). It featured gla.s.ses that were tucked away neatly with a discreet wine cooler.
Finally, the kitchen ran alongside the living room, stretching out directly in front from my bedroom door. The left side became a long island between two pillars, whereas the other side boasted the appliances. All in all, the culinary amenities were modern, professional, and probably cost tens of thousands of dollars.
”Heya, Claire-bear,” Natalie grinned chirpily, glancing at me over her shoulder. ”You're up late. Feeling alright?”
”We've been over this a million times, Nat,” I sluggishly groaned as I shuffled towards the island for support. G.o.d, I feel terrible. ”That pet name of yours doesn't work when my name's not actually Claire.”
”Yeah, well, suck it up,” my best friend chuckled, turning her eyes back to the television. ”Anyway, don't you, like, have a thing with your mom today?”
Recollection snapped me to alertness. I stumbled towards the clock on the oven and cursed myself for oversleeping.
”Oh s.h.i.+t, I'm gonna be late!”
”You're making a bad habit of that!” She rang out in a singsong voice, before chomping down on a spoonful of cereal. ”And here I was, about to invite you to Netflix the s.h.i.+t out of some shows with me. When've you gotta be there?”
”Two hours,” I moaned self-piteously.
”What? You can totally make that.”
”It takes an hour and a half to get there, and I'm a total mess at the moment, if you couldn't tell...”
”So what? Skip the shower. Slap on some makeup. Brush your teeth. Put on pants. The problem practically solves itself!” She threw her hands up in mock exasperation. ”Do I need to figure all this s.h.i.+t out for you, or can you be a functioning adult for, like, one G.o.dd.a.m.n day?”
I couldn't help but grin. Her friends.h.i.+p was a definite blessing to me.
”One day I'm gonna strangle you, you smart-a.s.s,” I chuckled groggily. ”But I'll need that shower to wake me up... so, you know, enjoy your Netflix boyfriend. Gonna make that Jared of yours jealous.”
”It's true, Netflix is bae,” Nat cheerfully announced. ”Jared knows his place. He buys me s.h.i.+t. He gives me the d.i.c.k, but Netflix? Netflix is where my heart goes.”
”I thought that was pizza,” I retorted.
”Netflix and I have an open relations.h.i.+p with pizza. It's working out pretty well.”
”You're hopeless.”
”And you will be, too, if you don't get your a.s.s in gear. Shower if you're gonna, b.i.t.c.h!”
Shaking my head, I followed her advice. I really hated showering any less than half an hour, but time was of the essence. After a quick, begrudgingly utilitarian rinse, I stood under the faucet and let the steam cloud my senses for a few minutes.
One hair-drying session, a brisk bit of makeup, and a fresh set of presentable clothes later, I was traipsing towards the door.
”Hey, have you heard anything from your Good Samaritan yet?”
”My what?”
”Uh, Dalton, I think he said his name was,” Natalie clarified, pausing the television. ”Dude from the bar. It was weird you hated him one moment, and then you were practically hanging on his every word the next. But he turned out to be pretty chill, all things considered.”