Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
It’s a girls’ night in at my place, and Harlow, Jules, and Camden are gathered around the olive and cheese tray on the coffee table. A deck of cards sits next to it, along with poker chips.
But we paused our game of poker once I told them about the Friday night run-in with Raven. “So yeah, that was super fun,” I say, flipping a poker chip absently. “Telling a big fat lie to a colleague.”
“You win. That’s definitely the suckiest romantic situation I’ve heard in a while,” Camden says, then points to the wine. “And you don’t need wine or whiskey. You need a massage, a pedicure, and a blowout from the best in the city.”
I laugh, skeptical but interested. “Blowouts cure the man blues?”
Camden flips her red strands. “Fact: a good hair day is the only true fix for a dating conundrum.”
“Conundrum,” Jules deadpans, staring at her bestie. “More like a dating dead end.”
I whimper, then lift my glass and glug the rest of my wine.
Harlow leans her head against my shoulder. “My poor pet.”
I set the glass down on the coffee table with a thunk, then sigh. “I mean, whatever. I can’t be that sad. It’s not like we were even dating,” I say, trying to keep the whole thing—whatever it is, whatever it was, whatever it wasn’t—in perspective.
Camden scoffs. “Oh, I’d be sad if I couldn’t have hot sex with my friend’s dad.”
Jules swats Camden’s shoulder. “Girl, do not even think about my dad that way.”
“Not your dad, babe. But some dads are hot,” she says with a you know it shrug.
“Fact,” I chime in, smiling for the first time in several minutes. “Like David’s dad.”
Jules doesn’t break her stony expression, still directed at Camden. “But not my dad. Not Tate Marley.”
Jules huffs but then draws a circle in the air around us. “No one here is banging any of our dads.” She crosses her legs, kicking her Mary Jane heel back and forth, looking like some kind of come at me siren. But that’s Evening Jules. With her short plaid skirts, and button-up white blouses, she’s got a whole naughty-but-tough schoolgirl look going. Makes me wonder how many costumes she has.
Harlow pats my shoulder. “Exactly. Layla’s banging her ex’s dad,” Harlow chimes in.
I gasp. “You’re evil, Harlow.”
“I mean, you are banging him,” Harlow adds, then lifts her iced tea, smirking above the rim before she takes a sip.
“We did not bang the other night,” I point out, squaring my shoulders.
Camden clears her throat. “Wasn’t his dick in your mouth?”
“In the backseat of your sports car?” Jules adds.
I grab a pillow and throw it at Jules.
She catches it. “I’m just saying. You were pretty much banging.”
I hold up a stop-sign hand. “And there is no more banging. It’s a bad idea. A very bad idea.”
“Banging an ex-boyfriend’s dad does seem complicated…” Jules adds, going thoughtful, letting go of the tease as she meets my eyes. “But it also sounds like it was more than banging. It sounds like you like him.”
That’s the million-dollar issue. I sink back into my couch. “I do.” I swallow roughly, past the knot of emotions tightening my throat. “I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to feel a thing. But now I feel so much it scares me.”
The mood shifts in my living room. The easy vibe slinks under the door. “Is there a way at all?” Jules asks, carefully.
I’ve played out scenarios. But they’re all so complicated. “I don’t see how there could be. He’s such a good dad. He cares so much about David, and he’s focused on his son. Which only makes him more attractive.”
With a sad smile, Camden reaches for the wine bottle. “Maybe you two just needed to get it out of your system, and when you see each other again, everything will be fine.”
But will he be out of my system? I wish. Though it hardly feels possible. I pick up the deck to deal.
“Who knows?” I say as I shuffle. “I’ll see him at the auction next weekend. And probably this week, too, to finish up some prep, but I don’t know if I’ll ever see him alone again.”
Though, I do know. I probably won’t see him by himself. That’s what we agreed to on Friday night. I haven’t heard from him all weekend. He hasn’t called or texted, and I haven’t either. Nor has DistractibleGuy left any comments on my videos.
I know why he hasn’t. Truly, I do. But I wish he had.
I hold up my glass. Camden refills it. “Maybe that’s for the best,” she says, sympathetically.
There’s a collective nod.
“Maybe it is,” I say reluctantly. Only, I’m not certain anymore. I’ve let Nick in more than anyone except my friends, and I can’t help but think he’s worth it.
But we’re just not in the cards.