"Hmm." He's very close to the door, and I can almost hear his voice through the crack, as well as through the phone. "If it's any consolation, I'm sure you'll wear it very well."
I set my fork down. "Well, you're obviously not very picky."
At that, the phone suddenly disconnects, and the connecting door pops open. I didn't lock it, of course, and I knew I didn't lock it, but it's still a surprise. I clutch my robe around my chest, for some reason. "I could've been naked, you know."
"Oh, how awkward that would have been," Adrian says, dryly, striding into the room. He sits down on the bed, jostling the tray as he does, and I grab my orange juice with a frown. "I have a new policy. Every time you make a negative comment about your own appearance, I'm docking your paycheck."
"You have called me a hag," I point out, one eyebrow raised. "On multiple occasions."
"Yes, well, you're obviously not a hag, are you?" he counters, impatiently. "That's a joke. That's different."
"Wow," I say, drawing out the word as long and sarcastically as possible. "That's some hard-hitting satire, my friend." I take a sip of my orange juice. "The implication, of course, being that while I'm not a hag, I am fat."
His eyes darken. "I swear to fucking God, I'll turn you over my knee again."
"It's not a dirty word, Adrian. Relax." I set my juice down on the bedside table. "I don't really need your help with my body image, thanks, I've got it all under control."
"Not picky," he says, fixing me with a gaze that won't let me look away. "Those were your exact words, Meghan. Don't pretend like you didn't mean what you meant."
I just shrug. I really, really don't want to have this conversation with him.
"I'll have you know," he says, sliding over slightly to close some of the distance between us, "I'm actually very picky. I don't just toss my dick at anything that crosses my path. You run into a lot of trouble that way."
"So you like big girls." I shrug. "What do you want, a round of applause?"
I'm being incredibly fucking bitter right now, and while he certainly deserves it in general, he doesn't really deserve it right now. Not in this particular case. He's actually trying to be nice, but that's more unnerving than the alternative. It's true, he's never poked fun at my weight. I've never thought to wonder why, until now.
"I like women," he says. "All sorts of women. Confident women. Smart women. Sharp-tongued women. Women who know how to manage difficult men." He reaches forward, catching my chin with his finger, gently lifting my face higher. "And yes, voluptuous women. At the moment I'm particularly intrigued by one woman who embodies all of those qualities, yet insists on calling herself names and then pretending that she isn't." He leans in, brushing his lips against mine. "You're right, it's not a dirty word. Except when it is. Which is most of the time. I can see the cloud pass over your face when you say it."
I can't argue with him, as much as I want to. I've come to terms with my body, I've learned to love my curves, I've cranked "All About That Bass" and followed all the body-positive Facebook pages. I've done everything I'm supposed to do, but yes, the word still echoes in the back of my head, not as a schoolyard taunt, but something much worse.
You're going to have enough trouble finding a husband with that poison tongue of yours, now you're getting fat on top of everything else?
I only want what's best for you, Meghan…
No daughter of mine should be shopping in the plus-size department.
"You know if you actually dock my paychecks, I'll go to the labor board." I swallow down the lump in my throat, forcefully.
"Ah, but you won't." He grins. "Because if you go and do a spiteful thing like that, I'll never put my tongue anywhere near your beautiful pussy again. And trust me, that'll hurt me more than it hurts you." He kisses me hard and fast this time, and although I part my lips, he doesn't deepen it before pulling away. "Now, are you going to behave yourself?"
"Probably not." I reach for his belt buckle. "We've got two hours before my panel, think you can teach me a lesson by then?"
Dodging my grasp, he stands up. "You know, if I were a cruel man, I'd spend every moment of that time devouring you, but never letting you come. Bringing you right to the edge, and then back again. And I'd make you do your panel appearance as a sopping, incoherent mess. But lucky for you, I'm not."
I swallow hard, my fingers twitching with the need to touch him. But he's heading for the door.
"Wait," I plead, but he's already turning the handle.
"Sorry, Ms. Burns. You'll have to live with only having me once this morning. I trust you'll endure."
"But…"
The door slams.
I pick up the phone and punch his room number in, angrily.
"Adrian Risinger speaking."
"Get your ass over here!" I shout down the receiver.
There's a moment of silence.
"Sorry, who is this?"
I throw the phone at the wall.
Chapter Ten
It's like my college literature classes, all over again.
"What do you think, Natalie?"
I clear my throat. "Well, you know, it's important to distinguish between fantasy and reality when it comes to this stuff. Most readers, and do pay attention to the operative word there, want to read about the kind of guy they can't have in real life. Not because he's inaccessible, but because he'd be a terrible partner in real life. So you create this fantasy of the controlling bad boy who becomes something else, during the course of the story - but without losing his teeth. He knows exactly when to be pushy, and exactly when to back off."
I am completely talking out of my ass. The last time I was this full of shit, I was using my memory of a Wishbone episode to convince my professor I'd actually read The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. Don't ask me why the fuck The Legend of Sleepy Hollow was in a college curriculum in the first place, but thank God for small mercies.
The audience member at the microphone pipes up. "But don't you think things are changing? Is the age of the bad boy on its way out? I keep seeing more and more people talking about how they want to read about nice guys."
Someone coughs.
Izzy glances down the row of panelists. "Anybody have any thoughts on that?"
"Well," I hear myself pipe up, "I think of course there's always going to be room for something different. But it's not like alpha bad boys are some new phenomenon. That don't-give-a-shit attitude, pardon my French, always has been and always will be sexy. It telegraphs power and control. It sends the message that he's a man who will fight for you, and stand by you, even if the rest of the world turns on you. And if he wants something, he'll go after it. If you look at those few popular books that do feature nice guys, they still have those qualities. They're just a little bit softer around the edges."