Exes and O's (The Influencer #2)

by Amy Lea

“You’re not overthinking this, are you?” “No,” I say quickly, my eyes turning to my chicken wing bone.

I can’t help but wonder sometimes. We have the best conversations. He’s opened up to me a lot in the past month. There’s actually a lot more to him than meets the eye. He’s sensitive and he listens, like, really listens,” I gush.

“Has he ever given you any hint he has real feelings for you?” Mel asks.

“He smiles at me a lot, mostly when he thinks I’m not looking. Oh, and he feeds me,” I add, grasping at straws. “He even tries to make food I’ll like.”

Crystal’s doubtful expression tramples my theory to dust. “I mean, the smiling . . . he’s a bit of a flirt in general.”

But hypothetically, what if I’m not reading too much into things? What if he did catch feelings for me?”

“We need your advice. A behavioral analysis, if you will.”

“Has he said anything about Tara to you?” He raises a contemplative brow. “He talks about her sometimes at work.”

“You want me to flat-out ask him if he likes Tara?” “Yes,” we say in unison.

TARA: Is she tall? Smiles with her mouth open? SCOTT: Yeah.

As a commitment-phobic man-child, he sleeps around to cope with his overt emotional problems (due to a tragic backstory).

I like my playboys fictional. I have no time for them in real life!

LIKE THE EMOTIONALLY balanced millennial I am, coping with my problems by being petty on social media is my go-to.

I stomp down the stairs from the rooftop in Trevor’s hideous Crocs.

How does one properly prepare themselves to hear the guy they like having sex with another woman across the hall?

With each new album, I strategically add the gloomiest songs in advance of such a time as this.

What’d you do tonight?” “Hot tub. Self-loathing. The usual.”

If I know myself as well as I think, spending more quality time with a guy I have unrequited feelings for can only end in a tsunami of tears.

“I could see you breaking someone’s nose. You’re like a little scrappy hamster.”

“I once bit another girl who tried to kiss Daniel at recess,” I admit. “You’re a biter?”

“That’s officially my new favorite thing about you.”

“I thought I was your best friend.” “I didn’t realize we’d advanced to that level. Am I your best friend?”

Being labeled as Trevor Metcalfe’s best friend is the highest of compliments. On the other hand, the only thing more unromantic than friend status is best friend status.

Trevor sinks horizontally on the couch, unexpectedly resting his head in my lap. I’m frozen as he adjusts the weight of his head evenly over my thighs.

Having feelings for Trevor Metcalfe is like driving in the opposite lane on a busy freeway as oncoming traffic barrels toward you.

“Tangled wasn’t awful,” he admits.

There is absolutely nothing about you to loathe.”

Working my fingers through his dense, silky mane shouldn’t feel so comfortable, so ritualistic, like I’ve done it a million times before.

His eyes are closed now, which is probably safer for everyone involved—mainly me.

“Maybe you can be my therapist. I like talking to you.”

Regardless of whether he has feelings for me, he feels comfortable talking to me, of all people.

“I like talking to you too.” “You like to talk to everyone, though.”

“You’re gonna be the death of...

“Where are you going?” he slurs. “Bed. We both need to go to bed.” He opens his eyes and frowns. “Can’t we stay here?”

He doesn’t go to his room, and neither do I. We’re standing in our respective doorways in a weird, nonconfrontational face-off.

I hold his stare, mentally daring him to approach. And he does.

Panicked, I wet my bottom lip, readying for another earthshaking kiss.

his hand cups my cheek with the lightest touch. His thumb does a gentle sweep over my bottom lip, sending a shiver hurtling down the back of my neck. In a startling whoosh, that same hand reaches downward, toward my waist.

I’m tempted to strike him in the forehead with a coffee pod as a distractive measure and run away, but alas, I’m a professional.

With all the confusion with my roommate, I’ve nearly lost sight of my original goal of securing my storybook second-chance romance.

I make a pact with myself that if he ignores my LinkedIn DM, I’ll take it as a sign to give up on love entirely and purchase a rescue dog who won’t break my heart.

What are you listening to?” The bold voice plows forward with gusto, entirely shameless. “Kent let out a low, hungry growl as his eyes feasted upon her glistening

Are you kidding me? Of course I remember you. In case you forgot, I don’t like many people.

Ps. I am so glad to hear from you. You and me both, Daniel.

Leaning on various supportive structures, arms crossed to accentuate said biceps. Being an overall walking thirst trap. I’d follow him straight into a pyramid scheme in this getup.

Depriving the world of his ass in those pants would be an international war crime.

If you call her boring, you’re calling me boring.”

“You just want to see me in a shell bikini top.” “Nobody would complain about that.”

Is this Trevor’s way of admitting he wouldn’t mind seeing me, his best friend, in a seashell bra?

“My boobs are not appropriate for your innocent niece’s tenth birthday party.” “If you say so.”