I barely let our server finish his sentence before I blurt out, “Can I see your bourbon list?”
Parker shoots me a puzzled look, probably because I hardly ever drink anything other than beer, or sometimes wine if I’m with her. “I’ll save the rest of the champagne for you.”
Except that’s not the real reason I want the bourbon. The real reason I need something stronger than wi
ne is to help me come to grips with the fact that I’m on the verge of a sexual rut.
Worse than the rut is that it doesn’t feel like a rut at all.
The server moves away, and Parker leans forward. “What’s wrong with you? You look ready to puke.”
I lean forward, too, deciding to lay it out and play it totally straight with her, because she’s my best friend and she deserves it.
“When you pitched this whole friends-with-benefits thing, how long did you envision it lasting?” I ask.
She blinks. “Um, I don’t know. Can’t really say that I was thinking about a timeline.”
I breathe out a long breath. “Are you aware that it’s been nearly two weeks? We’ve been having sex for two weeks.”
“Yeah? So?” she says, her nose scrunching.
“I haven’t…” I rub a hand over the back of my neck. Might as well just say it. “I haven’t been with anyone else since the first night you and I hooked up.”
Parker’s silent for several seconds before she starts cracking up. “Oh my God. You should see your face right now.”
I smile begrudgingly. “It’s not funny.”
It is. A little.
“Sorry.” She tries for a straight face and fails, chuckling into her champagne flute. “Okay, so I thought we covered this. If one of us wants to sleep with someone else, we just say the word—”
“Right,” he says quickly. “Like you and that guy from the bar—”
“Brandon,” she says.
I clench my fists beneath the table.
“Sure. So you’re going to call Brandon, and then it won’t be weird if I hang out with another girl.”
“Definitely not weird.”
“Right.”
“Right,” she repeats.
“Right.”
The server comes back with the whiskey menu, which I take, my eyes never leaving Parker. The server is astute enough to know that she’s interrupting something and backs away without a word.
“Oh God,” Parker says, her voice a little panicked. “We’re not going to let it get weird. Are we?”
No. No way will I let that happen.
“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” I say, opening the menu. “Tomorrow is Friday. You’re going to see if Brandon wants to go out. I’m going to go out on the prowl.”
“Don’t call it a prowl, weirdo.”
I continue as though she hasn’t spoken. “And then you’re going to get laid by this Brandon guy. I’m going to find myself a cute blonde.”