Addicted to Sin Page 18

  Madison smiles and shyly reaches for a biscotti.

  “So why don’t you eat dessert?” I ask, stealing a mini fruit tart. “It’s not like you need to worry about your size.”

  Madison stops chewing and her cheeks turn a ghastly white.

  “That was a compliment,” I explain, wondering what I’ve said that’s wrong.

  She nods, but pushes the plate away from her while I raise my eyebrow, confused.

  “Are you okay? Did I say something to upset you? I just meant—”

  But she cuts me off. “I know what you meant,” she says, lowering her eyes. “Thank you, I just…” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “I was a chubby kid, and well, something, um…it was…” And I see her clam up as she twists a napkin in her hands.

  “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” I reach over the table and place my palm over hers before she shreds the napkin in half.

  Her hand trembles under mine, and I squeeze it lightly. “If ever you want to talk, not psychiatrist to patient, but just Dixon and Madison, I’m here, okay?” I say, wanting her to know that I’ll never analyze her, or make her feel like a case study.

  “Thank you, Dixon,” she says with a small sniff, wiping away a tear.

  Concetta comes over with our coffees, and I reluctantly let go of Madison’s hand.

  “Grazie,” I say, reaching into my pocket for my wallet to pay, but she waves me off.

  “Non insultarmi, bambino,” she firmly states and I smirk, as I know better than to fight with a Sicilian.

  “Thank you. If you need me for anything, you know where to find me,” I say, and she nods.

  “You just keep coming back to visit, and bring the principessa with you, too,” she says, looking at Madison, who blushes.

  “Deal,” I reply and she bends forward, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

  As she shuffles off to serve a customer, Madison asks, “How do you know her? It seems you’ve known one another for a while.”

  “I’ve known Concetta since I moved to Manhattan. This cafe was mine, Hunter, and Finch’s savior throughout college. Without her double espressos, I dare say I would have slept through half of my exams.”

  Madison laughs as she adds sugar to her coffee. “Who are Hunter and Finch?”

  “They’re my friends. I’ve known them my whole life, and we moved to New York together for college,” I explain. “Finch is happily married to his high-school sweetheart, Heidi. They’ve just had a baby girl.”

  “And Hunter?” she asks, listening intently.

  “Hunter is an acquired taste,” I tease, sipping my coffee.

  “Well, they both sound awesome.”

  “They really are,” I reply, thinking about how awesome those bastards are. “So what about you?”

  “What about me?” she counters quickly, and I notice her hand shaking slightly as she stirs her coffee.

  “I know about Mary,” I explain.“But what about your family? You mentioned you and your mom were close.”

  “We are,” she replies with a small smile.

  I know her family, just like mine, seem to be a touchy subject for her, but I can’t help myself as I ask. “And you said you had a brother?” I say, remembering her losing her footing when she mentioned him.

  Madison nods, the discomfort obvious in her tense face. As much as I want to know why she’s suddenly clammed up, I don’t want to know that badly and ruin our day.

  “I always wanted a brother,” I share, and see Madison’s shoulders instantly depress in relief.

  “Yeah?”

  I nod with a smile.

  “Why?”

  “So I could blame him for breaking my mother’s crystal vase.”

  She bursts into laughter.

  However, thinking about my current predicament, I can’t help but confess, “And it would make circumstances a lot easier to deal with.”

  “What circumstances?” she innocently queries.

  “Things with my…dad,” I reveal. He made his feelings perfectly clear the other day, so I’ve given up on a reunion any time soon.

  “What do you mean?” She watches me closely, waiting for me to elaborate.

  I sigh, deciding to share this one small snippet with her. “If I had a brother, maybe he could be the son my father deserves.”

  Madison’s eyes fill with pity, and as she opens her mouth, I dread what she’s going to say. But at the last second, it appears she changes her mind. “I think this world can only handle one Dixon Mathews. And besides, I’m sure Hunter and Finch were like brothers, right?”

  I grin, grateful for the change of pace. “Yes, they still are. We were neighbors all through school. My poor teachers,” I say, shaking my head.

  Madison laughs quietly and seems more relaxed now that the topic has shifted away from her family.

  “Sounds like Mary and I,” she says cheerfully.

  “Oh yeah?” I ask, happy she wants to share this piece of information with me.

  “Yeah,” she replies with a reminiscent smile, as if touching on a memory. “Before my mom married Sebastian, we were dirt poor. We lived in a tiny, one-bedroom apartment, right next door to Mary. Both our moms were single, working two jobs to make ends meet. We were inseparable, and still are.”

  “So she knows all of your deepest, darkest secrets?” I say jokingly.

  Madison frowns, her finger skating around the rim of her cup. “Not all of them.”

  I give her a small smile, but don’t press. She’ll tell me when, or if she’s ever ready.

  My phone chirps, ruining the moment, and I apologize to Madison as I pull it out of my pocket. The sender is someone I was not expecting, considering she got what she wanted from me last night.

  I’ve got an itch only you can scratch. Are you free tonight?

  Madison must see my face drop as I read Juliet’s message because she asks, “Everything okay?”

  Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I nod, clearing my throat. “Yeah, fine.”

  And just like me, she doesn’t press; she simply sips her coffee, and gives me a reassuring smile. Both Madison and I have secrets, but every so often secrets are better left unsaid.

  22

  One Direction

  DIXON

  After dropping Madison off at her place, I decide to hit the gym and burn off some of my pent-up sexual energy, and also my smorgasbord of sweets. I texted Hunter and he was keen for a workout, and to brag about his night.

  After he’s done scarring me with images I so wish I could burn from my hippocampus, he decides to inquire about my night.

  “So, how was your evening?” he asks, running on the treadmill beside me.

  “It was great,” I reply, my feet pounding on the belt.

  “Oh, yeah? How was Marisa?”

  I could try and elude him, but I don’t see the point.

  “I wouldn’t know,” I respond breathlessly.

  “You wouldn’t know? What the fuck are you talking about?” he questions, utterly confused.

  When I don’t reply and focus on running instead of talking, he grumbles, “You choked, didn’t you?”

  “Call it whatever you like,” I say with a casual shrug. “I call it not catching crabs.”

  “There was a time in our lives when crabs were cool, Dix,” Hunter rebukes, and I blanch.

  “There is never, ever, a cool time for VD, Hunt,” I say, brushing my sweaty hair off my brow.

  “Yeah well, that’s what the new, boring Dixon says. But the old, fun Dixon would be down with a medicated crab wash.”

  “You, my friend, are disgusting,” I say, laughing. “And for your information, I didn’t choke, I just upgraded.”

  “Whoa, hold up. What does that mean?” he says, his curiosity piqued.

  “Why don’t you use that creative mind of yours and figure it out?” I smugly reply, focusing on finishing my two-mile run.

  However, one minute I’m running, and the next, I’m almost face planting.

&nbs
p; “What the hell?” I bark when Hunter hits the emergency stop button.

  “Start talking, Mathews,” he demands as I step off the machine and attempt to catch my breath.

  “There’s not much to tell,” I reply, slowly pacing to cool down. “I went home with Madison, instead of the peroxide airhead.”

  “Madison!” Hunter yells in disbelief as he hits the stop button on his own machine. “As in Cherry Pie Madison?”

  “Yes,” I reply with a smirk, as his nickname for her is quite fitting.

  “Holy shit, you dog. Doesn’t she have a boyfriend?”

  “Yes,” I counter, stretching my arms above my head.

  “You fucking dog!” he screams excitedly, slapping me on the back.

  “It’s not like that,” I clarify.

  “It’s exactly like that,” Hunter nods. “So, how was it? I know you’ve had a hard-on for her for ages. Did it live up to everything and more?” he asks, rubbing his hands together.

  “It’s really not like that,” I say, walking toward the water fountain.

  “So what, you’re telling me you had like a slumber party, or something?” Hunter jokingly says as he follows in hot pursuit.

  “Something like that,” I say with a shrug, and can’t help but chuckle at the disgusted look on Hunter’s face.

  “Sweet baby Jesus! And what, did you braid each other’s hair, and argue over whether Niall or Harry is cuter?”

  “Who the hell is Niall?” I ask, pulling away from the water stream and cocking my eyebrow.

  When I continue looking at him, afraid for his sanity, he brushes it off.“Never mind. Stop trying to change the subject.”

  “I’m not trying to change any subject,” I reply, wiping runaway water from my lips with the back of my hand as I stand to full height. “And there’s only a subject because you keep making it one. Madison and I are friends, and yes, I’m attracted to her, but she has a boyfriend, and I would never screw that up for her because she’s the first girl I’ve met in ages that I actually give two shits about,” I say in a huff, while Hunter smirks.

  “You so braided each other’s hair,” he counters, while I punch him on the arm.

  We walk to the changing rooms and the fact Hunter has gone quiet is never a good sign.

  “Spit it out.” I sigh, as I know he’ll explode if he doesn’t get whatever is festering in his head out in the open.

  “I just…” He pauses, looking stumped. “You’re telling me a smokin’ hot, gorgeous girl, was in your apartment, in your bed, and you did nothing?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you,” I reply, sitting on the bench and untying my laces.

  “Not even a blowjob?”

  “No.”

  “Hand job?”

  “No.”

  “Foreplay?”

  “No.”

  “Making out?”

  “No.”

  “Dry-humping?”

  “No.”

  “What about some over-the-clothes touching?”

  “No.”

  “A sensual massage, which led to some kind of skin-on-skin contact, which then led to some kind of penetration?”

  “No.”

  “Dirty pillow talk?”

  “No.”

  “Playing footsie?”

  “No.”

  “What about some peeping Tom action when she was sleeping?”

  “No.”

  “Faked sexomnia?”

  “Fuck, you’re one sick man,” I say, pulling a sickened face as I reach for my gym bag.

  “Anyone would think you’re a damn virgin,” he states, and his comment reminds me of Madison’s confession.

  “Speaking of virgins,” I smugly declare, while Hunter almost gags on his tongue.

  “No? No fucking way,” he exclaims, shaking his head, not believing me.

  “Yes,” I affirm with a nod. “She pretty much told me she was.”

  “I am actually speechless right now. There are no words to convey how I’m currently feeling,” Hunter affirms, appearing to be in utter shock as he slumps down onto the bench seat.

  “Good, let’s keep it that way,” I reply, zipping up my hoodie and shouldering my bag. “I’ll catch you later.”

  “Wait, where’s the fire?” he asks, standing up.

  “Besides in your pants?” I playfully counter, referring to his sordid night with Mandy, and the possible diseases he’s caught from sleeping with her.

  “Very funny, you tween.” He punches me in the arm. “Seriously though, what’s the hurry?”

  I failed to mention Madison will be staying over for another “slumber party,” and I also excluded the minor detail that Juliet will probably turn up on my doorstep unannounced, and quite possibly naked. I didn’t reply to her text because I didn’t know what to say.

  “Man, you really are a masochist,” Hunter says with a shake of his head, as he can obviously read my facial expressions. “You’re letting a chick, who will in no way put out ’cause she’s a damn virgin, and has a boyfriend, sleep in your bed…again. You’re the one who needs to see a shrink.”

  I don’t argue with him on that.

  “What about the harlot?” he asks, and I decide to leave out the part about her masturbating on my doorstep.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s a done deal. I’m out,” I reply unaffected, because it’s true.

  “So what now? You become a born-again virgin?”

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” I answer, looking at my watch. “I gotta go.”

  “Dix?” Hunter says, as I turn to leave.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ll leave you with one quote that I live by,” he solemnly declares, and I’m actually afraid to hear what he has to say, as I know he does not have one alleged life-changing quote.

  “Let’s hear it then,” I say, gesturing with my fingers for him to deliver me his gospel.

  “‘Why buy the cow…when you can get the milk for free?’” he replies seriously. “You’ll thank me one day,” he adds with a nod.

  Barely containing my laughter, I flip him off and say, “Nice going, Confucius.”

  * * *

  Madison is coming over at 7 p.m., and although she said she’ll eat at her place, I stopped by the supermarket on the way home and grabbed a few things—mainly of the sugary kind.

  I’ve showered, tidied up, and caught up on some paperwork, and just as I’m about to settle down to watch the news, there is a soft knock at the door. Looking down at my watch, I see that it’s only 6:30 p.m. It’s a little early for Madison’s arrival, so I wonder who it is.

  Muting the TV, I walk over to the door. The moment I open it, my brain tells me to shut it again because Juliet is standing before me, looking utterly devious in nothing but a pink silk dress, which could easily pass for lingerie.

  “Juliet? I’m sort of in the middle of something,” I say, using my arm as a barricade as I rest my hand against the doorframe. This seems to be a trend lately.

  “Is that any way to say hello?” Her lips tip up into a sensual smile.

  “Hello,” I sarcastically retort, and Juliet finally picks up on my irritation at her just turning up, unexpected.

  With her eyes narrowed, she asks, “You’re not happy to see me?”

  Truthfully no, I’m not, and it must show on my face.

  “Have I done something wrong, Dixon?” she questions, and I rub the back of my neck, as having this conversation is the last thing I want to do.

  But now that she’s here, I may as well put us both out of our misery.

  “Please, come in.” I step backward so she can enter.

  She looks at me suspiciously but nods, and saunters in. Shutting the door behind her, I cut to the chase because I’m in no mood to drag this out.

  “Look, Juliet, things between us, they’ve been… interesting, but I think it’s best we stop seeing one another.”

  I lean against the door and cross my arms over my chest, my bo
dy language displaying the truth to what I just said. I give her a moment to process my comment.

  “You’re serious?” she scoffs, appearing taken aback.

  Her arrogance that I could actually not want her is quite off-putting, and I wonder how I found her self-assurance attractive in the past.

  “Yes,” I answer firmly, and Juliet looks as if I’ve slapped her cheek with my curtness.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she replies, visibly stunned.

  “There’s nothing to say. You and I both know what this was. Let’s not make something out of nothing,” I say, and as harsh as that sounds, it’s the truth—the truth I have been avoiding for so long.

  “I…” Juliet falters, nervously pulling at the gold necklace around her neck. “I like you, Dixon. And I know you like me, too,” she seductively says, stepping toward me.

  I’ve got nowhere to go, but I stand tall.

  “Juliet, I liked the sex. I liked the fact I could lose control with you and be someone I thought I wanted to be. But funnily enough, being with you proved to me that that man was a complete jackass.”

  “You don’t mean that,” she says with a firm shake of her head.

  “Yes, I really do,” I reply firmly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but honestly, I didn’t think you’d care.”

  “Of course I care,” she cries. “How could you think I don’t? I’ve been fucking you for the past three months!”

  I sigh because this is all it comes down to—sex.

  “Did you know I was once engaged?” I question, watching the shock pass over Juliet’s face.

  “No, I did not,” she confesses, her composure slipping.

  “Did you know that I’ve loved the Yankees since my father took me to my first game when I was eight years old?”

  She lowers her eyes, and shakes her head.

  “Does that answer your question?” I ask. “But to be fair, there are things about you that I should know, but don’t. And that’s because I never asked you. And that’s because—”

  “You never cared,” she finishes for me, completely in step with what I’m saying.

  “Juliet—” but she cuts me off.

  “Forget it, Dixon. I get it. I don’t need you canoodling me, or giving me some pep talk. I’m fine. It was fun, but we’re done. I get it,” she spits, straightening her shoulders and staring me straight in the eye. “Goodbye. It was nice knowing you.” She storms forward, cocking her head, silently telling me to move.