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I’m confrontation’s bitch and avoid it at all costs, therefore—raises hand—here I am, doormat, at your service.
As Rachel Green would say, isn’t that just kick-you-in-the-crotch, spit-on-your-neck fantastic?
A few minutes later, Kelsey comes busting through the door with tequila and margarita fixings in hand. “The items to forget all your troubles are here.”
“Hold the fuck on. Let me get this straight.” He looks up at me. “You ran into Dave Toney on the street and told him you were engaged to a girl from Georgia and that she’s pregnant?” I wet my lips. “That would be correct.”
I’ve performed my fair share of miracles, but finding a woman to fall in love with me, accept my proposal, and get pregnant in three days seems like a bit of a stretch.
“Because she’s an overprotective mother and I’m a twenty-eight-year-old loser who gets lost in a rich neighborhood while trying to find a rich husband.”
Kelsey: Oh my God . . . you’re going to be murdered. Lottie: No way. The dude is meeting me at Chipotle. He’s not going to murder me at a place where you have to pay extra for guac.
“Possessive, are we?” I ask, trying to feel this man out. “I prefer to claim what’s mine.”
“Ooo, a man who knows when he’s wrong. Be still my heart.”
Lottie just stares at me, as if she can’t believe I’m here, eating ice cream in her mom’s kitchen, acting as though nothing is wrong. Actually, that’s exactly what’s happening. If only I could hear her thoughts. My guess is, she’d just be saying, “I’m going to kill him,” over and over.
She glances between us, and I know she wants to murder me, because if looks could kill . . . I’d be six feet under.
And the Oscar goes to . . .
“Yeah, not going to lie, I have secondary anxiety for you.” “That’s not helpful.” I pin her with a stare.
“Put a pin in that anxiety. Spring rolls don’t go well with it.” Does anxiety go well with any main dish?
Excuse me while I pick my jaw up off the ground.
Are we just going with the whole ‘ran into him on the sidewalk’ story? Because, although lacking in luster, it’s an easy one to tell, but in my version, you’re a dick. Let me guess, I’m a shrew in yours?”
“Uh, this isn’t an engagement ring, this is an ice rink for a family of five.”
Something rabid crawled up his ass today.
She hands me the glass and then takes a seat. I lean into her ear and ask, “Did you spit in this?” She leans in close and whispers back, “If Ellie wasn’t helping me, I would’ve licked the rim, spit in the water, and then added vinegar as a delicious touch.”
She’s more than a catch, she’s absolute perfection.
“I’m foul to be around? Uh, hello pot, it’s kettle . . . you’re black.
“This is why you’re foul to be around.” “Coming from the one with the stick up their ass.” Her eyes travel to my lips and then back up. “You’re unpleasant.” “You’re unhinged.” “You open your mouth and put people to sleep,” she snaps back. “You’re obnoxious.” “You’re an ass.” “You’re bawdy.” “You’re imperious.” “Aww, look at them,” Ellie says, coming back outside. “They’re so cute, aren’t they, Dave?” “They do look quite perfect for each other.” If only they knew.
Tgis is hilarious
If that is what having a fiancée involves—that domesticity, docility—I’m so glad there will never be anything like that between me and Lottie. Never be anything like that, period.
Yah right
“I hope you have a sleepless night.” “Sweet nightmares,” he replies back with such a level of snark that I think I might have met my match.
“You’re late,” I say. “And that’s my coffee.” I reach for it, but like a rabid beast, she hisses at me, causing me to pull back in absolute fear. “Touch it and die,” she says in a deep, possessed voice. Not a morning person. Noted.
As he’s about to leave, I gesture to the devil incarnate next to me and say, “This is my fiancée, Lottie.
“It’s frightening how quickly you can change from angry to pleasant,” I say. “Speak for yourself. You’re a modern-day Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”
In a sarcastic tone, he says, “You didn’t give me a kiss goodbye.” Pushing past him, I say, “Crawl up your own scrotum and drown.”
I want her to crave me when I walk into the room. And I know I shouldn’t, I know this is strictly business, but she unleashed something inside me tonight. And now I feel . . . desperate.
I’m not very bendy, Huxley. I’m very stiff, and when I squat, my knees crack. I might be twenty-eight, but my body acts like a seventy-five-year-old arthritic woman.”
Literally same
There’s no way in hell I’m about to get hard at a stupid pregnancy class with Dave right next to me.
Our fingers glide over one another, and for some reason, the warm touch of his finger sends a bolt of lust up my arm and straight to my heart. Where the hell did that come from?
“Nah, man, not with Dave. You’re just fucked, because that girl in there, the one in the blue dress—yeah, she has you by the balls. The Huxley I know never would’ve passed up on the opportunity to meet with the guy he’s trying to strike a deal with. As a matter of fact, he’d drop pretty much anything to make it happen.” He glances behind him. “Who knew a girl in a blue dress would be your kryptonite?”
Lottie doesn’t say anything to JP. Her eyes stray to mine through the glass windows. There it is, plain as day—she’s grateful. The surge of pride that pummels me in the chest from that one simple look is scary. Terrifying.
Look at our big brother being all insecure. It’s cute on him.
He’s right. What could go wrong? Seriously. Huxley: Famous last words.
I’m barely keeping my head above water, I don’t want someone I have to babysit, if that makes sense.”
Felt that to my core
There, that should set her fake-blonde roots on fire.
“And I thought you wouldn’t appreciate having a shrew of a woman draped across you.” He laughs, and it’s such a beautiful sound. “I might enjoy the shrew more than I thought.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “Traumatizing. I will have to bleach my eyes, but I’ll make it.”
When she came down the stairs in her outfit, I knew I was in for a long night of staring and appreciating, with the secret hope that when we’re at the concert, she’ll let me hold her.
There’s no more denying our attraction, our need, our yearning. It’s out in the open, and I’m going to take advantage of it.
I have to make this work. I want to date Lottie, make her feel special, because that’s what she is—special. And I suspect she has no clue. No thanks to her “friend” Angela.
And while I’ve been to many concerts before—a private jet makes it so easy—this is one of my best concert experiences. And it’s all about the girl in my arms.
And just like that, I’m a taken man. Fucking besotted. This is what I want. Her, in my arms. Exactly like this.
“Never thought I’d date my fake fiancé, but then again, I never thought I’d do half the things I’ve done since I’ve met you.” “And we haven’t even gotten started yet.”
“If you’re talking to my girl, I’m concerned,” Huxley responds, which of course makes me all weak in the knees because of the possessive tone he uses. “Ooo, I like this side of him,” JP says. He stands and slaps his brother on the shoulder.
“Lottie, trust me when I say you’re not imposing. I want you in my house, in my room, in my bed. I want you on my couch, holding my hand while watching a show you’ve forced me to reluctantly binge. I want you in my pool, skinny-dipping like you enjoy so much. I want you on my roof, feeling the rain bounce off you during a storm. I want you at my dining room table, eating dinner next to me, giving me a hard time for whatever reason you come up with that day.” He lifts my knuckles to his lips and places a soft kiss to them. “I want you, okay?” The smile that crosses my lips stretches from ear to
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I just died
“Well, wrap your head around this, Huxley. I was planning on expressing my feelings for you tonight, and instead of me being able to do that, you placed blame where it shouldn’t have been placed, tore down the trust we built between each other, and you broke my heart.”
I remember taking this and the exact feeling I felt while taking it. I was completely overjoyed. Now, I’d give anything to feel that feeling again. Instead, all I feel is . . . empty.
