Walking Red Flag (Ocean View #2)

by Morgan Elizabeth

“All assholes have small dicks. It’s like a rule or something,”

Start a legacy of women who research dumb men, the true disease of humankind.

Yes, you read that right—I also had never tried to “do it myself.” But it turns out that part is also a lot harder than advertised. So now I’m a virgin who has never been able to make myself, ahem, arrive.

I usually just smile and say that my book boyfriends more than fulfill me. And, I mean, I’m not wrong. Most of them pass the list of “Cassie’s Dating Rules,” meaning if they were alive and willing to date me, they wouldn’t destroy me, mind, body, and soul. But the one thing that neither they nor I apparently can do is get me over the edge. Sure, reading gives me all the butterflies, but anytime I try a little self-love, it just ends up disappointing.

“She’s a sweet girl. Volunteers at the school—” “They’re all sweet girls.” “Well, you never marry any of them.” “Maybe I just don’t want to marry right now.” “You’re a man. Men don’t know what they want until it slaps them in their face.” “So wait until it slaps me, Mom.” “I’m the one doing the slapping here,” she says, trying on her “tough” voice, which is about as tough as Tweety Bird. I try not to laugh, knowing it will make this process take longer and I don’t want to somehow let it drag so long that I end up suckered into going. “I don’t want to go on a blind date.” “I just don’t know why you won’t at least meet her for coffee.”

And then it happens. Whether or not I realize it, I fall in love with Gabrielle Mancini and her endless talking, her gorgeous mind, and hilarious personality.

“You are super hot.” He is. My sister Gia would call him “Daddy” material. And then my brother-in-law would roll his eyes at her in a way that makes my belly gushy and jealous because they are so freaking cute together. The doctor’s white, perfectly straight teeth gleam from behind full lips.

“So close to what?” “I bet you could do it,” I say, not answering his question. I bet he could, too. That face is gorgeous. He’s tall and dark and handsome, which knocks him out early, that being the very first item on the red flag list, but I mean, maybe a red flag is what I need to finally make it happen. My eyes flit to his fingers, which are long and thick. I look at my own—tiny, dainty, even. “Maybe that’s my problem,” I say, looking from my hand to his face. “You know?” He’s smiling still, confusion on his face. How is he confused? It’s obvious. “Sorry, Gabrielle. You lost me.” “My friends call me Gabi. We can be friends.” “Okay, Gabi.” There’s a laugh in his voice, but I can’t see the smile anymore. “I really think we’d make good friends. The fun kind.” My eyes have drifted, closing a bit as the picture of the kind of friends this doctor could make flashes behind them. It makes me shiver. Or maybe that’s this freezing hospital room. “What were you close to?” “An orgasm!” I shout, my eyes opening again. He blinks at me, head moving back a bit in surprise. “I was so close! So close! Tara was right, you know. The shower method? Foolproof. Unless you’re me, and you try it, and you break your fucking wrist.” He’s looking at me, eyes wide. “I know. I know, trust me, it’s crazy to me too. Did you know some people use the showerhead to make themselves orgasm?” I whisper it like it’s a secret, which apparently it was to no one but me. His eyes are wide. Maybe it’s a secret t...

“Vic, you date women for two months, max. If you can even call it that. They’re glorified fuck buddies.” She cringes. “Though we’re not talking about that.” “I don’t sleep around, Viv.” “I know. But you do. You just do it in a way your conscience feels better about.” Shit. I always forget how observant Vivian is. “I just—” “Don’t want to settle down. Got it. But you’ve got a killer mental block, so you need to do it the good guy way. It helps that you land girls who also have no intention of settling.” God, when did she become so astute? “What are you doing, writing a dissertation on me?” “I notice things. So what’s your plan?” “Plan?” “For Mom. What are you going to do to get her off your back?” “I’m not sure.” She rolls her eyes and sighs. “Men. Useless.” “I’ve been dodging her for years. I’m running out of options.” “You need something to distract her.” “Something to distract her?” “Yeah. Give her hope. Give her hope that you’ll be finding someone who will be a good fit. Help you settle down.”

There are only two times when my brain quiets down. Two times when the questions stop, the ideas pause, and my mind is blissfully silent. One is when the music is loud and all-consuming. The second is when I’m reading.

“Never let anyone, not even those jackass brothers of yours, make you feel like tu cabeze isn’t a beautiful thing, my Gabrielle.”

I wonder what it’s like to have a man talk like that while he’s fucking you. I wonder what the hot doctor sounds like when he’s turned on, about to fuck a woman. Where the fuck did that come from?

“So you don’t want flower petals and candles for your first time; you want a screaming orgasm?” Cassie asks with a smile as she digs in her bag for lipstick. She pops the top off, widening her mouth and lining her lips with the pretty pink color while looking in the mirror again. “Exactly,” I say

“Calm down, kitten.”

Before I can say anything, the bartender brings me the water and I crack the seal, handing it to Gabi who swats it away. I dip down until my lips are to her ear. “You need to drink this or you’ll regret it.” My nose is in her hair, and fuck, she smells good—citrusy and earthy and like salty sweat. It’s from dancing, but my mind, the primal side of me, instantly attributes it to a different action. My breath tickles her neck as I speak to her, and she shivers, the reaction combined with her scent affecting me way more than it should. All of this is a terrible, horrible idea. She is way past drunk. And she’s a virgin. Absolutely not. “If I’m a good girl, will I get rewarded?” she asks me, her voice low and husky, and Jesus fuck, I feel my cock hardening despite the fact everything about this is so incredibly wrong and never going to happen. Ever. Hear that, Little Vic? Never.

“Okay, honey. I think it’s time to get you into bed,” I say, helping her to stand from the stool. “Where are you going?” The groom—Luke—says, stepping in front of me like some kind of bossy big brother. Seems this crew is tight. “She needs to sleep this off.” “We can take her home.” Luke tips his head to Cassie. “Man, this is not the night you want to be dealing with a drunk girl. She is one hundred percent going to get sick.” Even though she’s nearly as gone as Gabi, Cassie looks concerned. The concern is sobering her a bit. “She doesn’t drink. Not this much, at least. And she hasn’t drunk even a glass of wine since she broke her wrist. I should have… shit. I should have thought of that and stopped her.” “Not your fault, sweetheart. She’s having fun. We’ll take her back to her place.” “She can’t be alone tonight,” I say, a strange sense of protectiveness and worry coming over me. “She drank way too much and is recovering from an injury. It’s a recipe for disaster.” “We’ll—” “Look, nothing will happen; I’m going to take her to my place, keep an eye on her. I’m an ER doctor. I’ve seen this exact thing go bad way too many times to walk away.” “The fuck you are. We don’t even know you,” Luke says. “Ben knows me.” I tip my head to my friend. “He invited me here to meet you guys. Seriously, nothing is going to happen. Doctor, remember? Ben can vouch for me.” “He’s a good guy, Luke. Nothing will happen if he says nothing will happen.” “I’m not cool with this.” “You don’t have to...

“Yay! I’m going home with Hot Doctor! See you in the morning when I’m not a virgin!” Gabi yells, grabbing my hand and stumbling towards the exit. This is going to be interesting.

still hasn’t drunk from. She needs to. “So, what position should we do first?” “I’m sorry, what?” My mind shifts from water consumption to Gabi’s words. “Position. Like… sex?” “Kitten, I’m not having sex with you tonight.” She pouts—a full-out pout. “Why not?” “Where should I start?” “The beginning.” She’s pouting like the child she is adamant people not treat her as, and it’s adorable. Unreasonably adorable. “Let’s make a deal. You drink some water, and I’ll give you an answer.” She crunches her nose. “I’m not thirsty.” “Sober you will thank drunk you if you drink that.” Another scrunch, another pout. But she does what I ask. “For one, you said you have a rule about who gets that v-card.” “The guy needs to make me come.” “I’ve never done that.” “I bet you could.” I bet I could too. “Maybe. Drink,” I say, tipping my head to the water, watching her drink until it hits the 1/3 mark. Looking out the window, I see we have about five more minutes. “Even if I could, I’m not fucking you drunk.” “Why?” “I want you to remember it.” “I don’t forget anything. I’m an elephant. My brothers hate it because I have something on all of them. My oldest brother, Dom, snuck a girl into the house and she puked in my mom’s roses when he was home from school. I was nine and caught him. He gave me five dollars not to tell our mom. But like, what is five dollars, ya know? So I took the money, but I still use it to get my way sometimes. That’s not even the worst of it.” I smile. That seems like som...

“My brain is broken. It’s not my body. It’s my brain.” “I’m sorry?” “It never stops.” She pauses, but I don’t fill the silence. This is an interesting development. “Does your brain stop?” she asks, looking at me. This is the slowest elevator on the planet, so I have time. I turn her to me, pressing her chest to mine, wrapping my arms around her waist. “Yeah, my brain stops.” Especially when you’re around, it seems. “Is it ever quiet in there?” she asks, reaching up and tapping my head. “Yeah, kitten. My mind gets quiet. Yours doesn’t?” “Never.” The word is a whisper. A quiet, embarrassed term. “You can’t focus?” She scrunches her nose, neither a confirmation nor a denial. “On coming. You can’t focus? Because your brain isn’t quiet?” “I get close. I get really close—it feels nice. And I think I’m almost there and then my brain… moves to something else. Like... what’s for dinner. Or if I remembered to shave or if I should be doing something... different. And I lose it.”

“Will you kiss me?” Her words are a whisper, and she looks at me with those big brown eyes, gorgeous eyes, eyes that, despite her words and her fire, hold innocence and trust and admiration. I hate what I have to do next. “No, kitten. I won’t be kissing you. Not tonight.” Her face falls. “Why not?” “Because when I kiss you, I need you to remember it.” Those eyes go gooey and soft. “When you kiss me?” “Oh yeah. When,” I say, my breath grazing her lips with my words. And at that moment, I want nothing more than to kiss her. To say fuck it and kiss her even if she’s beyond gone, which goes against my moral compass. But the elevator dings and the doors open, having reached my floor. Saved by the bell.

“Yes, doctor,” she says with another roll of her eyes. How is that not giving her a headache?

Red flag: he has women’s clothes. Maybe he’s into drag? Except they’re all size small. Hmm.

“Vic, right?” she asks, her cheeks going pink. “You can call me Hot Doctor if you want.”

“You barely know me.” “Know you enough. You‘re not weird. You’re sweet. You’re… Gabi.” Why do I feel a sudden urge to knock out anyone who has ever made her feel like she’s weird or different instead of beautiful and intriguing?

“So you want me to…” “Date me. Vet me. Whatever you’d be doing for Cassie. I could be your test subject. Nothing is on the line with me.” “And in exchange…” “I’ll help you come.” Her eyes widen. “As I said, I’d do it free of charge, but I think you’re the kind of person who needs things to be reciprocal.” She nods. I knew it. “And when this is… done?” “When this is done, we’ll see. Maybe if it’s a good fit, I’ll have Cassie set me up. Either way, it will buy me some time without my mom breathing down my neck.” I love this idea the more I tell Gabi about it. It’s genius, really. “I don’t know, Vic. This all feels very… icky.” My back straightens. “Icky?” “Yeah. Icky. Creepy crawly.” “What part is icky?” I can’t believe I’m saying icky this much “The exchange part? Like… it’s a purchase or something.” “Friends with benefits.” “What?” “I like you. You’re sweet. You’re a blast when you’re drunk and that filter you have a tight hold on falls. We’re friends. I’m helping you with your… issue, and you’re helping me with mine.” She pauses, nose scrunched like she’s still not sure. God, she’s cute. God, I want this to work. “If it’s too much, if at any point you feel like it’s feeling wrong, we stop. Stay friends. Your best friend is marrying my best friend’s friend. Chances are we’ll run into each other in the future.” “Well, what happens if you’re a total dick?” I laugh. “What?” “If you’re a total dick. Like you said, I’m probably going to see you occasionally. It will be weird if...

“You wouldn’t kiss me last night.” “Nope,” I say, our lips near touching now. Our breaths mingle between us with tension so thick, I think I could dip my tongue out and taste it. “Why?” “I wanted you to remember it.” “Remember it?” “Yeah, kitten, the first time I kissed you, I didn’t want there to be even a single chance you doubted what was happening between us.” She stares, long and hard. “Even then?” Her words are whispers but confusing. “What?” “Even then. Last night. You wanted to kiss me?” This girl is cute. I smile and chuckle, my breath playing on her lips. “Yeah, Gabi. Fuck. I think I wanted to kiss you when you were babbling about toothbrushes and signs.” Her breath stops, but mine doesn’t. “I don’t just want to kiss you because I’m gonna be the lucky fuck to prove you’re not broken.” She tries to butt in, probably to tell me not to get my hopes up or some other fucked-up shit. “I want to kiss you because every time something comes out of your mouth, it makes me smile. Because your hair is crazy, and you’re gorgeous, and clearly a good person with so many people fighting to keep you safe from assholes like me.” “Are you an asshole?” “Never to you, kitten.”

It’s becoming evident I find everything about this woman unbearably adorable. I am so fucked.

“Is that what happens when you’re trying to come?” The blush spreads to the tips of her ears and she nods, but my hand once again keeps her from hiding. “I don’t mean it to. But I can’t help it. I told you. I’m broken.” “You’re not broken, kitten. You’ve just never found a man willing to work for it. Telling you right now, that man is me.” And my job is lined up for me.

I think I’ve smiled in her presence more than I have in the past two years combined. It’s not that I’m not happy or don’t show it on an average day—I am, and I do. But because she just… makes me smile. A lot.

“You want to help me?” I nod, circling a hand to prompt her to continue. “You want to help me with my… problem.” “With your seeming inability to orgasm.” “And my virginity.” “Let’s get past this hurdle first, okay?” She stares at me, blinking. I expand. “First, I’m going to make you come. Then I’m going to make you comfortable with coming. And then I’m going to make you come on my cock, Gabi. Those are the steps. Got it?” She blinks again, but it’s accompanied by wide eyes, parted lips, and increased breathing this time. Shallow, increased breathing. Shit, this woman is responsive. How the fuck has no man been able to make her come?

“Okay, so how does that… work?” she asks, shaking her head. “What do you mean?” “Are you gonna like… finger me after we eat?” I can’t help it—I choke on the coffee I had just taken a sip of. “Oh my god, are you okay?” Her eyes are wide as I cough to clear my airways. “Shit, are you choking? God, this would be a fun one to explain. ‘I killed a doctor because I asked him when he’d be fingering me and he choked on coffee, and I couldn’t remember those first aid classes they forced me to take in high school because the dummy was creepy and they made us use a dental dam, so I never learned, not really, and boom—he died.’” I continue to laugh as I cough. “Shit, shut up, Gabi! Go…” She stands up, chair scraping, and starts hitting my back—much harder than you’d expect from a five-foot-two Italian princess. “I’m good, I’m good. Just took me off guard.” I say, grabbing her wrist. I scoot my chair back to make room and tug until she’s sitting in my lap before I move her hand around my neck. I’m slightly surprised when the other hand follows. This feels good. This feels right. This feels fucking dangerous.

“Is there anything I can do to change your mind?” Her voice has dropped now, going sultry, her body relaxing and wiggling again, this time with intent. I hesitate, not wanting to admit that yes, she could very easily convince me if she just kept that up… “No, Gabi.” “Why not?” “I just told you. Look, I want this, but I want to do it right. You’re going home tonight, and you’re going to think about it. You will text me no earlier than tomorrow morning to confirm our arrangement. This arrangement will be you interviewing me for your boss to get my mother off my case and me helping you to orgasm, teaching you about your body. This is important, though, Gabi. I don’t want you to just… do it. Do you understand me? I won’t be a regret you look back on.”

“Are you going to stop being stupid and tell me what happened? I might not call your brothers, but I’d definitely engage the phone tree. Call Luke who would call Ben who would call… What was his name again?” She knows his name. She gave him the fifth degree when he dropped me off, even if he was only in her home for a solid five minutes before he had to go off to the hospital. “Vic.” “Ah, yes, Hot Doctor Vic.” “Don’t call him that.” “Ooooh, possessive! Love this. So! What happened? I know you didn’t lose it because you don’t have that… glow about you. You’re also not waddling. I feel like he’s tall and you’re so tiny… You’d definitely be waddling.” “Waddling?” I cringe. Cassie laughs but doesn’t answer my inquiry.

“I saw that man, Gabi. If anyone can make you come, it’s going to be him.”

“Dear Gabi, I hope it’s okay I’m sending through this email—it’s the only one I could find and this didn’t seem like a thing to send via text. As per our conversation last weekend, I’d like to set up a time to enact part one of our deal. I feel dinner would be a good start—that way you can ask some of your questions for the matching aspect and calm down a bit. I need your mind clear for what I’m going to do to you.” Heat flashes through me but it’s not entirely embarrassment—a different kind of heat coils in my belly. Cassie uses a hand to fan herself as she looks over at me. “Jesus, girl! Hot and he wants your mind clear?!” The blush takes over my face, burning deep into my bones. “Please send over your schedule and I can compare it against mine at the hospital. Also, please run this by Cassie—I don’t want you to get in trouble with her.” Her eyes shift to me again. “Oh, it’s been run by me. And I so approve!” Her eyes scan the rest of the message, mostly dates and times, before he signs off with a strangely formal, “Sincerely, Doctor Brandt.”

“Pros and cons?” I ask into Gab’s hair as Ben asks Cassie where her fiancé is. “She does that. This is kind of an interview. Preliminary.” There’s a smile, a teasing smile, and I’m relieved for some fucked-up reason. “Got it. I’ll be on my best behavior.” “That’s usually a con. She can sniff out being fake,” she says and laughs. “Be yourself. That will be enough.”

This apartment needs life.

“Where did this come from?” I ask, staring at it in confusion. It looks like… real food. “What?” On the plate are chicken, a roasted potato, and green beans. I look from it to him and back again. “Where did this come from?” “I just… I just made it?” “You cooked this?” He nods with a smile, grabbing silverware. “When?” His smile grows. “While you were sitting here sipping your wine and explaining your day to me.” “Where the hell was I?” How did I not see Vic cooking? It seems like a crime, not seeing that. I would really like to see Vic cooking. “In that gorgeous head of yours.” A blush burns my cheeks and I look down at my plate. Plain white. Boring. Lifeless. But he doesn’t let me avoid the conversation. Instead, his fingers touch my chin, tipping it up so I’m stuck looking at him. “No. Don’t do that.” “What?” “Look down. Get embarrassed. I like that, how you get lost in your mind. Like seeing things work in your eyes, seeing you talk and get excited about things.” “You like it now,” I say, moving so I can busy myself with a fork and knife. People like this part of me when they first meet me. The quirky part, the part that makes them laugh and smile. Until they don’t. Until they realize it’s not some cute act I put on, it’s just me. My mind never stops. I ask a million and seven questions, nearly all of them with no real purpose. I space out, my mind ignoring reality and moving at its own speed. “Yeah, I like it a fuckuva lot right now,” he says, his hand moving to my chi...

“Not a single part of you is something to be embarrassed about.” “Falling in a shower while I attempt to masturbate and breaking my wrist?” The words fall from my mouth. “Okay, maybe that.” I can’t help it—I smile. “But the rest? No. Being a virgin? Who cares? Being inexperienced? Kitten, that’s every man’s dream. Teaching a woman? Helping her be confident in bed? Ensuring what she learns is what you like? Fuck, Gabi. Nothing hotter.” My entire body flushes with his words and the way his voice goes low and gravely. “Oh.” “Yeah, oh. So, I will never make you do anything. Ever. You can feel safe with me. If you want to leave, I’ll walk you downstairs and you can leave. If you’re serious—if you want to do this—I would be honored. But know that none of what we do should be because you’re embarrassed. None of what we do should be because of some fictional man you may meet in the future. Any man would be honored to have you in his bed, Gabi. Experienced or not. This would be for you. All for you.”

“What do you have on under here?” he asks. His voice is lower than I’ve ever heard it. Through my hooded eyes, I see his are locked to his hands, watching them disappear under the fabric, watching his wrists lift it ever so slightly. Every pass up, he gets closer and closer to where my pulsing is dying for him. The look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know. I’m going to orgasm tonight if it’s the last thing he ever does. “What?” “Under this skirt, kitten. What do you have on?” Another shiver. I look down at the flouncy, bright purple skater skirt I paired with a flowery blouse, watching his thumb disappear and reappear, each swipe like a match on sandpaper. Igniting. “Uhm. Underwear?” I pause, unsure of what he’s looking for. “Blue. Boy short?” I probably should have worn something sexier, knowing why I was coming here. “Next time, wear nothing,” he says as his thumb goes up, up, up and grazes the line of my panties. “Oh,” I breathe, the sound nearly silent, but he catches it. His eyes move up to mine, my mind not missing the fact that, unlike every time his hand has grazed up, it’s staying there, running back and forth on the line of my panties. I can see at this moment how having none would be a perk. Noted.

“I changed my mind,” he says, and my stomach drops. Oh my god, were they that unsexy? So bad he needs to end this before it even starts? “What?” “I changed my mind. Next time you come wearing these. I need to see you bent over this couch in nothing but these.”

“Don’t you dare,” Vic says, moving my legs, which were trying to cross, to hide myself. “Don’t you dare try to hide this from me. Right now, this pussy is mine.” His words have me clenching, a small mewl working from my throat. “Ahh, seems my girl likes words,” he says, and I’d be embarrassed, probably blush, or maybe even try to sit up, except his hand is further parting my legs, giving him room, and his hand is running up my thigh, using his thumb to part me. “She likes to read; she likes my words. Perfect.” That thumb moves up my slit, exposing me to his watchful eye. “Jesus, look at you. Already so wet.” The thumb starts from my entrance, dipping in the slightest bit before running up to my clit, lightly circling me there. My hips buck. “Feel good?” he asks, his voice a sultry caress, an additional layer to the erotic tease that is Vic. I moan as his thumb presses lightly where I’m dying for more. “Answer me.” His face goes into my neck as he whispers the words before nipping my ear, pulling it into his mouth. “Yes,” I whisper, lifting my hips. “Good girl,” he says, pressing on my clit with more force this time. Oh my god, that is so hot. Should that be hot? Why is that so hot? “This is all we’re doing tonight. I’m gonna make you come.” He breathes heavily, a sigh. “You’re going to come for me tonight, okay, kitten?” I nod, biting my lip, my back arching as he continues to circle my clit, spiraling in towards my clit then back out. “For a woman who’s never had a man ma...

“I’m... I think I’m close,” I say, and I expect Vic’s hand to move, to do something different, but he doesn’t, he just keeps going, the same rhythm, the same pace, the same pressure as it builds and builds, as I reach for it… But I can’t. I can’t get there. And as his hand continues, as the feeling builds to an excruciating level, as he continues to pant in my ear, as I continue to moan, I wonder if maybe I really am broken. Because if I can’t focus with Doctor Victor Brandt touching me, when will I? “What, baby? Get out of your head,” he says. “I can’t… I’m so… but I can’t…” “You’re so wet for me, Gabi. I know you can do this,” he says, and another stone falls from the wall, my body responding in kind. “Fuck, you like when I talk to you?” Another pebble, another clench, another rush of wet. “Fuck, Gabi. I can’t wait to hear you when you come. I want you to say my name, okay? When you come for me, you say the name of the man who made it happen.” I moan deep, a new, more profound feeling taking over. A blooming of warmth fills my lower back, my breathing becoming erratic. “Fuck, I… I…” “Fuck yeah, baby, you’re going to come for me. You’re going to come so fucking hard right now, and all it took was my fingers. Imagine what it’s going to feel like when I’m fucking you. I have so much to teach you, and I’m going to have so much fun doing it,” he says, and it’s that—the idea of more, the idea of learning, and, admittedly, of Vic fucking me that does it. I explode, his name on ...

“Who said you’re annoying?” “Everyone.” The word comes easy, like she thinks it’s obvious. “Who?” I ask again, and even I can hear the demand in my tone. I want names. And addresses. “Kids at school. My brothers. I… They mean well, I’m just… annoying.” “You’re not annoying.” “Yes, I am. It’s fine—I’m the baby of seven kids. I was born to be annoying. I’ve also accepted this fact.” “You’re not annoying, and if I hear you say that again, I’m taking you over my knee.” Her eyes go wide with shock and surprise, and I know she’s a virgin and we have a lot of other “firsts” to go over, but fuck, I like that idea a lot. I keep on talking. “You’re normal. You have a brain that’s always wondering and always working. I think that’s beautiful.”

“There have only ever been two people who went along with the chaos in my mind. My dad and now, you.” And even though she doesn’t elaborate more, even though I still I kind of want to go kick the asses of her brothers who made her feel like some kind of nuisance, I know deep down that means something to her. And I love that I gave that to her.

And now I’m walking into work with it, my insides still a mess of sunshine and rainbows and fairy tales and amazing orgasms. When Cassie catches my face, her phone to her ear, her face falls. “Gotta go, babe. No, I’m good. Gabs walked in,” she says, swiping her phone and keeping her eyes on me as I walk to her, handing over the drink. “Oh, my fucking god.” I smile as I step back, headed to my desk. “Oh, my fucking god!” she repeats as I pull my chair out. “Oh, my fucking god!” Her voice is rising with each word, each change in enunciation. “Quiet, Cassie. The neighbors will call the cops on us again,” I say, reminding her of when we squealed so loud the neighbors in our office building thought something had happened and sent over the police. “And I’ll tell the cops that my best friend just had her first orgasm in 28 years!” The smile stretches until it hurts my cheeks, but a blush comes to my face to join it. “Cassie, can we not let the poor accountants next door know I had my first orgasm this weekend? It might give the guy a heart attack.” “Or a boner,” she says, and I gag, thinking of the little old man next door who is always just this side of inappropriate. “Ew, Cass. You’re fucked up,” I say, sitting at my desk.

“Look. You know I love you, right?” I nod. “And I don’t want you to get hurt.” I nod again. “I’ve… I’ve seen it all.” Of course she has. Between her ass of a father and all the men she’s dated over the years, she’s seen every form of crappy guy. “You’re sweet. And you love love. The idea of it.” Her eyes travel to my bookshelf filled with smutty books and happily ever afters. “The real world? It doesn’t look like those.” “I know that, Cassie.” The words sound defensive even to my ears. “Not trying to offend you. You see the best in everyone. I see the worst. It’s why we work. But that is how you get hurt.” “If I recall, Miss Cassie, that’s also how you almost fucked everything up with Luke.”

“I’m not going to fall for him.”

I chose this man in part because no one knew him. And now everyone is going to know him. Shit.

“You’re going home with me or I’m going home with you. Either way, we’re leaving this hospital together, and you’re staying by my side all night so I can keep an eye on you.” “I’m fine—” “You’re pale and your hands are still shaking,” I said, lifting them to press against the wall beside her head, fingers entwined with my own. Her breathing became labored, matching mine. “I’m driving you. Are we going to my place or yours?” I asked, breathing in her air. She blinked a few times, deciding the answer, probably trying to figure out if arguing would help. It wouldn’t. I’d already decided, and regardless of how stubborn Gabi could be, I could be more stubborn. “The boys destroyed my apartment,” she’d said, eyes still wide. “Does that mean we need to go there to make sure it’s still standing, or you’re spending the night at my place to avoid it?” “I don’t want you to see the mess,” she said, and I just smiled, pressing my lips softly to hers. Perfectly right, just as it’s been every time before that. The truth is, the more I play with Gabi, the more I wonder if I’m playing at all.