Chelsea had braced for a little bite-back—Riley wasn’t exactly the type to swoon at a doorstep surprise—but his tone clipped some of the shine off her smirk. Not all of it, though. She was good at taking a hit and making it look like she meant to. She didn’t expect to show and have him foaming at the mouth for her, no, but this felt like she was encroaching on his precious time. The blonde chewed lightly on her lip, tormenting the plumpness there, scrambling to find a play that didn’t seem bothered by Riley’s monotony.
“Wow,” she exhaled, stepping past him only after he moved aside, her white boots soft against the floor. “You really know how to make a girl feel welcome.” Her voice carried its usual playful cadence, but there was a subtle dimming around the edges, something softer, quieter. Some sparkle dimmed behind her eyes. She didn't want to get her hopes shot down just yet.
She held the six-pack against her hip as she took in the room—the bottle on the end table, the open file, the muted TV’s glow bouncing off his tired features. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen a man running on fumes. Maybe that it was it. It could be just exhaustion. Or, maybe, it was more one sided. That wouldn't be the first time for Chelsea, either.
“Bad news for you,” she murmured with a flick of her thumb against the cardboard handle, “curiosity never killed me. Just gets me into… interesting neighborhoods.” Her eyes lifted to meet his, searching for a hint of warmth, humor—anything—but settled for the cool ocean-blue he offered. He was clearly a mystery, which prompted Chelsea to push her lips together. “Bed time?”
She moved to the edge of his living room, but didn’t claim any real space. Didn’t sit. Didn’t sprawl. Even the beer she held remained unopened. Rather, Chelsea adjusted the black top and the frayed edges of her skirt riding on her thighs. His jab about the bribe coaxed a ghost of her earlier grin back. A beat, then she nodded toward the six-pack. “And yeah … a bribe ... the beer was just to get me in the door.” A shrug tugged at her sweater, pulling it partially off one shoulder before she nudged it back up. “And maybe an excuse.”
He shut the door behind her, and the boundaries came with it—sharp ones, the kind she wasn’t used to respecting but found herself toeing tonight. Chelsea inhaled, exhaled, then faced him fully when he ordered her to get to the point. Well, it was off to a more difficult start, off-putting at best, never quite used to being met with this. But, ironically, Chelsea was a girl that was anything but dishonest.
"You got a girl on your doorstep afterhours with a pretty short skirt," Her eyes lowered, lashes brushing her cheeks as her boldness cooled but brow ticked. “I just didn’t think you’d mind seeing me.”