More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Saint Channing Tatum did not gyrate on all those laps in the Magic Mike franchise for you to come at me for sucking more than one dick a week.”
He never could hold a grudge, even when Mel ate the last of the Oreos he liked to hide on top of the refrigerator.
She might own, like, a jaguar or something.” “I don’t really care what kind of car someone drives,” Mel said. “No, not the car. The jungle cat.” “How would that be a good thing? Do you want me to get mauled?”
“And you brought… liquid.” “It’s cordial,” Mel said. Kade nodded, their sharp chin bobbing exactly once. “It’s certainly a very friendly gesture.”
Last was Sawyer, who was just—some guy.
Mel searched his face for a birthmark or piercing or literally anything to distinguish him from any other white guy. No dice.
This one was kind of judgey. At least that was a memorable trait.
Was Bebe an actual wizard at negotiating these kinds of things? This was the second time in their short acquaintance that Mel had witnessed her take control of a situation where someone was behaving badly. Maybe it was a lawyer thing.
Mel couldn’t decide if they were bored or plotting a murder; both seemed equally likely.
“Kade and I like it hot. How about you?” Mel gaped like a goldfish for a moment. There had to be another way to phrase that.
Were they about to recruit her into a cult? Or some kind of pyramid scheme? Or maybe a combo cult/pyramid scheme?
And I would like to take you out on a date. As my date. Who I would be dating. If you wanted to go out on a date with me.”
Of all the things she had considered might happen this afternoon, being propositioned by one half of a poly couple was not one of them. It sure beat the hell out of being invited to participate in a multilevel marketing scam. She had a healthy distrust of patterned leggings.
First dates were the worst. It was like having a job interview where you were also expected to be hot.
She was already familiar with the perils of dating a high femme.
Oh my god, Mel thought to herself. Are they going to hug? Sure enough, Bebe stepped away, and the two men crushed together, arms beating across each other’s backs, Yankees caps in danger of falling from their heads. A smattering of applause came from the other customers who’d been watching the drama unfold. Mel collapsed back into her chair in relief.
“I’m a champion pillow princess. I’ve made bottoming an art form.
“Do you ask all your first dates how much of a top they are?” “Only the ones with good forearms.”
She hated being a stereotype, but what else could you call a lesbian who married the first woman she’d ever slept with?
MEL’S APPLE THING—DO NOT TOUCH.
Sometimes, Bebe made it very difficult not to love her.
“Is all art this good once you learn a thing or two about it?” “No,” Bebe said in a lighter voice. “Some of it gets worse.”
Oh. Great. She like-liked Bebe.
That’s why I like you so much, Mel Sorrento.”
Who schedules a morning booty call, anyway?” “Gays who both work nights,”
Plenty of reasons to keep the number. You never knew, she told herself. Might need an artist someday.
if I didn’t give a shit about you. But I do give a shit. A massive, steaming—” “You know what I love most about you?” Bebe sighed. “Your romantic soul.”
“Well, enjoy your nonproblem,”
Not the most resounding endorsement, but okay.
Rita presented them with the most elaborate ice waters ever served in the western hemisphere, highballs of crushed ice with perfect wheels of lemon and bamboo straws sticking out from the top.
“I would never do what you did.” Mel nodded, pursing her lips. The cabbie and the airline desk and security and all the rest—Rita must have been the last straw for Kade’s raw nerves. Still, Mel had been out of line. Now Kade was probably going to hate her the whole weekend, possibly longer.
hoping this vacation wasn’t completely cursed by bad vibes.
Mel mentally updated her hazard sign: it has been zero minutes since our last bitchy eyebrow.
“Unless I need the artistic inspiration and my schedule is free, of course. Then I suppose I can pencil it in.”
What kind of tops were they? Completely useless, the pair of them.
“And as the butchest person in residence, I should haul the firewood.”
“Absolutely not, Sorrento,” Kade said. The use of her last name was new. Kind of funny, like they were in the same platoon or something.

