He didn’t ask how her day went, so she didn’t tell.
Chapter Ten
Just a Lil’ Bit
“God, Em, could you hog the mirror anymore?” Olivia nudged her hip against Emily’s in an attempt to see her own reflection. “You look banging. Now let me see myself.”
Emily teased her fingers through her hair, trying to give it a little more bounce without unnecessary amounts of hairspray. “You’re in my bathroom, friend. Go use yours.”
Letting out a sigh, Olivia frowned. “But I like yours better; now scoot,” she clipped, jerking her hip against Emily’s with more force this time. “Besides, your friend’s waiting in the other room for us, so don’t be rude. I’ll be done in a second, and then we can go party until we drop!”
Laughing, Emily shot herself one last look in the mirror and strolled out of the bathroom. She plucked her outfit for the evening off the bed. After slipping into a short black twill skirt and a red short-sleeved button-up blouse, she threw on a pair of black heels and called out to Olivia for approval.
She playfully spun around, modeling her attire.
“You look like a sex kitten,” Olivia trilled.
Emily smiled and made her way into the living room.
Fallon jumped up from the couch, her gray eyes wide. “Damn, Emily, you clean up well.”
Placing her hands on her hips, Emily smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Yeah, Country, it’s a compliment.” She tossed her red-and-stark-white-streaked hair over her shoulder. “The only clothing I’ve seen you in is that horrid black-and-white uniform that they make us wear.”
“Well, thank you, Fallon,” Emily laughed. “For another horrid black-and-white-wearing-uniformed waitress, you don’t look too bad yourself. I would never be able to pull off fishnet stockings like you can.”
Fallon’s mouth curled wickedly as she propped her leg onto the coffee table. “These old things? Damn, if I could live in a fishnet bodysuit, I would. Though I usually don’t care what people think, society wouldn’t consider that very proper, would they?”
Emily shook her head and laughed. “I’m thinking you might be right about that.”
Olivia emerged from the bedroom, sporting a red dress and matching heels. Her hair was pulled up off her shoulders, and the dress hugged her hourglass physique like a glove. After twirling herself around for Emily and Fallon, she made her way into the kitchen, pulled out three shot glasses from the cabinet, and topped each one off with a heavy dose of tequila.
“Come on, ladies,” Olivia squealed. “Let’s do a couple of mind-fuckers before we hit the club.”
The three women indulged in a shot, each of them excited for a much-needed night out on the town. After they downed a second “mind-fucker,” a quick knock came at the door, followed by Dillon walking in.
“Why even bother knocking, Douche?” Olivia asked, rolling her brown eyes. Emily elbowed her in the gut. “I mean, Dillon, of course,” she huffed out from the impact.
Dillon pinned Olivia with an icy grin, and then his eyes flicked over Fallon. He looked back to Emily with a quizzical look on his face. “What are you doing? I thought you were hanging out with me tonight?”
Smiling, Emily moved across the room and tossed her arms around his neck. “No, I told you the other day that I was doing a girls’ night out with Fallon and Olivia.”
Dillon lightly gripped her hips and leaned into her ear, his voice low. “Can I talk to you in the other room for a second?”
Emily nodded, and he swiftly grabbed her by the hand, leading her into her bedroom. He snapped the door shut and crossed his arms.
“What the fuck is that out there?” he whispered.
“What are you talking about?”
“That fucking space cadet, Goth-looking freak in the black leather shirt and skirt,” he answered, stepping closer. “Jesus Christ, she’s wearing a fucking spiked neck collar, Emily. She has piercings on her lip, nose, eyebrow, and who fucking knows where else on her body?”
Emily let out a groan as she moved toward the door, but he blocked her and grabbed her arm. She looked up to him. “Are you really going to start with me about her? She’s a nice girl, Dillon. Who cares what she looks like?”
“If my girlfriend’s going out with it, I care what it looks like.” He tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowed. “What kind of attention do you think she’s going to bring, looking like that?”
Emily yanked her arm away from him. “I’m not worried about what kind of attention she’s going to bring,” she whispered in a heated tone.
He plowed his hands through his hair. “Well, what kind of attention do you think you’re going to bring, wearing that?”
“I’m not doing this with you tonight, Dillon. I swear I’m not,” she answered in a low and hostile voice, attempting once again to move past him.
He grabbed her by the waist. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. You look beautiful.” He nuzzled his nose against her cheek as he lifted her arms up over his shoulders. “Which club are you going to?”
Emily let out a sigh. “Pink.”
“On 52nd?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, I’ll call a few of the guys from my office and go do something with them tonight.” He pulled her closer and pressed his lips to hers. “You owe me one for this.”
She spoke against his mouth. “I told you about tonight, Dillon.”
He let out a low groan as he sucked in her bottom lip. “I must’ve forgotten about it. I’ve been working late again with this new account—you know this.” He smoothed his hands down her waist. “What time are you going to be back?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, wiggling out from his embrace. “But I have to go. They’re waiting for me.”
He pulled her in for another kiss and then walked back to the kitchen with her. Emily quickly introduced him to Fallon. With her eyes, she warned him not to say anything to embarrass either of them. He simply smiled, but Emily could tell he was still displeased with the whole situation.
After the women gathered their belongings for the evening, he followed them outside, hailed a taxi, and paid the driver for their ride.
He ducked his head through the back window. “Not too late, okay? We’re having lunch with my parents tomorrow.”
Emily nodded and leaned up to kiss him. With that, the driver pulled away.
“Your boyfriend’s…nice?” Fallon said while her fingers moved over the keyboard of her phone like a well-oiled machine.
Olivia laughed but tried to hide it by covering her mouth.
“Thank you, Fallon,” Emily drawled the words out as her eyes traveled to Olivia. “He can be a little overprotective sometimes, but he’s a good man.”
As Olivia laughed again—this time without trying to conceal it—Fallon gasped. “Oh shit! A friend of mine’s having a house party in Staten Island tonight.” She continued to frantically text away. “His pad is incredible, and he throws killer parties. Let’s go there instead.”
“I’m down for whatever,” Olivia replied, rummaging through her purse. She glanced in Emily’s direction. “Is that cool with you?”
“Aren’t we all a little overdressed for a house party?”
Fallon pulled a flask from her bag, unscrewed the top, and took a sip. She shook her head. “No, believe me, it’s an anything-goes party.” She handed Emily the flask. “Here, it’s my specialty.”
Emily took it from her and smelled its contents. “What is it?”
“Just take a sip, Em,” Olivia piped up. “You’re always worried about how much you drink.”