Hook'd (10 page)

Reese massaged her scalp, fighting to stay awake. It took every bit of her strength not to sprawl herself on this couch and drift right off to sleep.

Stupid her, for drinking so damn much.

How could she allow herself to be so irresponsible, especially since she had plans on driving home tonight?  That's what her ass deserved for coming out to this party in the first place. Why she even decided to do so, she had no idea. But it was stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

It was now after 4, and here she was, still in his home. All of his guests had long gone. She would've too, had she been in the proper condition to drive. Although she wasn't extremely drunk, she was definitely teetering along those lines. Sober enough to be cognitive of her behavior, but drunk enough not to drive her ass home.

"Here you go."

She lifted her gaze to the glass of water in Cameron's hand. With a soft ‘thank you’, she took it from him and drank a long gulp, savoring the cold liquid as it glided down her throat. Her throat was so dry. Her head felt heavy. And everything around her continued to spin. God, she hoped she wouldn't wake up with a hangover tomorrow.

"You sure you don't want me to take you home?"

Reese shook her head. She needed her car in the morning.

He plopped himself on the opposite end of the sofa. "You could stay the night, if you want."

She gave him a stern look.

"Relax. I didn't mean like that. I got an extra room you could sleep in."

"I'm fine."

"Alright, suit yourself." He slouched more comfortably, turning on the TV.

She folded her legs under her derriere, glancing around his spacious home. She still couldn't get over how big it was. It must've cost him a fortune to afford a penthouse in the middle of New York City.

"Why do you have so many pictures of yourself?" She asked, staring at the large paintings of himself mounted around his home like a museum. Each portrait, painted in black and white, displayed images of him boxing. It brought her back to the pictures at his gym.

"Why not?"

"It's so...narcissistic."

"Nothing wrong with having pictures of yourself at your own crib."

Typical.

She searched around for any sight of family portraits but saw none.

"No family pictures?"

"Family?"

When he snorted, she turned to him and he focused on the TV. "Don't have any."

"No siblings?" She wondered.

"Nah. Just me."

That surprised her.

She could very much relate to that.

She gazed at all the expensive things that filled his spacious home, only to gain a sense emptiness that emitted through the atmosphere. Even with all the nice things, it all just felt so...lonely. She could pick up on it so well, because her own home gave her the same feeling. Living alone, with no family to share anything with, brought such a deep hollowness in her spirit she could never fully erase, no matter how much she tried.

"What about you?"

She jolted out of her thoughts. "Hmm?"

"Any siblings?"

"No."

Yawning, she curled her body against his sofa, as she rested her head on the armrest. She promised she would leave in just a few, she just had to sober up a little bit more.

"Cold?”

She shook her head, yawning again.

As she laid there, her gaze slowly traced his biceps in the white crew neck Tshirt he wore. She took in every definition of his muscular arms coated in his rich dark mocha skin, even those deep set of veins bulging across his triceps to the faint hairs surfacing across his forearms. Heat rushed between her legs without warning, and she blinked away.

She forced herself up, and stumbled a bit as she stood on her feet.

"Can I use your bathroom?"

"Yeah, it's down the hall on your right."

Trudging her bare feet across the cold floor, she held her balance as best she could as she made her way down the hall. Slight dizziness marred her senses and she slowed her steps. It became clear that she still wasn't in the right state of mind to drive. Maybe she should just ask him to take her home. But what sense would that make if she needed her car in the morning? Thank goodness she was off tomorrow, or she would've hated herself even more. How pathetic that a grown, 38 year old woman was acting like a damn teenager with no sense? Never again.

She entered the bathroom, only to be taken aback.

Wow.

Even his bathroom was gorgeous. The gold marble floors, the sleek granite countertop and spotless toilet were in immaculate condition. It was as though it had never been touched. She never expected Cameron to be so...clean. And it was such a relief. Lord knows, nothing turned her off more than a dirty man.

Reese looked at her reflection. Shit! She looked a mess. Her reddened eyes were glazed as though she were high out of her mind and if the cops were to pull her over right this minute, they would definitely lock her ass up. She fluffed her now sweated out hair before smoothing down the sides, then adjusted her strapless dress that did nothing but cause her discomfort from her sudden body heat. She tore a piece of tissue, dampened it, and wiped her smeared lipstick. She wanted so much to wash off her make-up right now, disgusted at the unsightly sheen of her oily skin. 

"What the hell are you doing here, Reese?" She mumbled with a sigh.

She shook her head and left the bathroom. As she made her way to the living room, she found him in the kitchen, peering through his fridge.

"I don't mean to overstay my welcome," She apologized, standing by the island. "This is very unlike me."

"It's cool. Don't even worry about it."

"No, I shouldn't even be here this late. As soon as I'm in the right condition to drive, I'll lea—"

"Reese." He faced her. "If I wanted you gone, I would've kicked you out a long time ago."

She fell silent.

He turned to the fridge. "You want anything?"

"A bottle of water, thanks."

He grabbed one and handed it to her. He then took a can of Pepsi, before closing the fridge. She took deep gulps of the water to clear the dryness in her throat. She had no idea why she was so thirsty. And hot. When she felt his stare, she met his gaze and her face warmed. She blinked away.

"What?" She closed the bottle.

"Nothing." He leaned his back against the counter top, opening his can.

"I don't usually do this."

"Do what?"

"Drink this much."

He took a sip. "I ain't judging."

"Sure. You're probably thinking how much of a fool I made of myself tonight."

Just the thought of her gallivanting around, dancing on tables and acting a mess made her shudder. God, she was such a sloppy drunk.

"Nah, not at all. I liked seeing the real you."

"The real me?" She lifted a brow.

"Yeah."

"You don't even know me to make that assessment."

He stared at her for a moment.

"Okay." He nodded.

She rolled her eyes, disregarding his snide tone.

"You play pool?"

"What?" She looked at him.

"Pool, the game. You play?"

"Yeah why?"

"How about a round?"

"What?"

He left the kitchen. Puzzled, she followed him. He led her into a separate room which entailed a pool table, mounted plasma screen TV and beanbag chairs at the corner of the room. Just like the majority of his home, large glass windows enclosed the room, revealing the gorgeous view of Manhattan. For the first time, she took notice to the violet skies, tinted with the subtle array of orange exuded by the rising sun across the horizon. The hell! Why in the world was she still here?

"Cameron, what time is it?"

He glanced at his watch. "5:45."

Her eyes widened. "Five forty-what?" She quickly shook her head. "No, I gotta get home. I shouldn't be here right now."

"One game."

"At this time of the day?"

"Yeah."

"You can't be serious."

She couldn't think of a person any more random.

He grabbed the two rods from the table. "You gotta work in the morning?"

"No, but that's not the point. It's late and—"

He handed her the stick. "Here."

She looked at him like he was crazy. Was he out of his mind?

"Just one game."

With a long sigh, she snatched it from him. "Fine."

He gathered the balls scattered across the table and placed them in a triangular rack, setting them at the center. She stared out the window, shaking her head. She couldn't believe she was even doing this.

He rubbed the tip of his stick with the chalk. "How about we switch things up?"

She gave him a wary glance.

"21 questions."

She listened, wondering where he was going with this.

"Each time someone makes a shot, that person has to ask a question. It could be whatever they want. No boundaries. And the person being asked, has to answer it with all honesty. Deal?"

She hesitated, uneasy at the set of rules. "No boundaries?"

"Nope."

"So, you can ask me anything, no matter how personal, and I'm obligated to answer it?"

"That's the rule."

She bit her lip, contemplating.

"I mean if you scared then..." He shrugged, and she rolled her eyes.

"Shut up and let's play."

He chortled. "Iight, just warning you. I'm a pro at this baby, so if you ain't ready to answer some questions it's ya chance to back out now."

"Please. I'll just beat your ass like Chavez should've did."

With a gasp, he placed his hand on his chest. "Oh, no you didn't..."

She giggled at his effeminate reaction. "Yeah, I did. What?" She dared, boldly.

He nodded, licking lips. "See, you foul for that one. But it's cool. Just wait."

He placed the white ball on the table, before removing the rack.

"Ladies first, since I'm a gentleman. But after that, all gloves are off."

"Whatever, move." She nudged him away, and he laughed, stepping out of her space. She then bent over the table, aiming the stick at the cue ball.

"Damn."

She rolled her eyes, disregarding his gaze on her ass. She struck the ball and it collided into the rest of balls, breaking them out of formation. When two solid colored balls rolled into the pocket, she jumped with joy. He huffed, shaking his head.

"Yeah, um what was all that stuff you were saying before? Sorry, I didn’t hear you," she teased, cupping her ear.

"Whateva. Just ask the question."

She twirled the stick, thinking of something to ask him.

"Okay, here's my question. What do you really want from me, Cameron?" She stared at him.

"I just wanna have a good time with a real woman."

She frowned at his vague response. "A good time meaning what?"

"Gotta hit another shot, baby."

She rolled her eyes, annoyed, and focused on the board. Biting her lip, she circled the table, assessing the best angle to make her shot. When she found it, she leaned over and hit the cue ball. She groaned when none made it in the pockets.

"Damnit."

"Aww, how unfortunate." He lowered his head with faux sympathy. She flipped him the finger and he grinned. He picked up his stick and stepped to the table. "It's game time baby."

He leaned over the table, aiming the ball with such focus. After a moment, he struck the ball. And like magic, 4 striped balls rolled into all pockets at the same time.

"Shit," she cursed.

He drew out a breath, standing straight. "Could do this in my sleep."

Cocky sonofabitch.

"Now, here's my question for you."

He stared at her for a long moment, rubbing the hairs on his chin. Her heart raced, as she anticipated his next words. She didn't understand why she so nervous all of a sudden, but she was.

"Are you attracted to me?"

She paused.  "What?"

"Are you attracted to me?" he repeated.

"What kind of question is that?"

"It's a question I want you to answer."

Arrogant ass.

Shutting her eyes, she forced out, "Yes, I think you're attractive."

"No, that's not what I asked you. Are you
attracted
to me?"

She twirled the stick anxiously between her fingers. He clearly wasn't going to make this easy for her.

"Yes...I'm attracted to you."

A cool smiled eased his lips and he nodded, stepping to the board. "Okay, now we're getting somewhere."