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“You’re not too terrible. Maybe you had bad dance partners, kind of like with everything else.”

Sophie looks up at me. “Don’t tell my dad that. He thinks he’s got moves like Michael Jackson.”

I surprise her with a turn. She releases a throaty laugh that hits my dick at the same time. It’s how things are between us, with her turning me on at the simplest things, cursing me with a permanent semi around her.

I’m not surprised when my mom changes the song to Coldplay’s “Yellow.” My parents like to meddle because they think life is all one big movie, with happy endings and fairy-tale stories. Sophie’s head tilts up at me when she recognizes the lyrics. I shrug because I didn’t pick a perfect song about stars, love, and a color that reminds me of her and that damn bikini she wore all those months ago in Monaco. My mom clearly listens to my stories a little too closely.

I pull her in closer, prompting her to lean her head on my chest.

“This isn’t how the young ones dance at parties.” She stifles her laugh.

“Keep cracking jokes about my age. You won’t like what happens.”

“Will you hold good on the threat? Because I bought you a birthday present that may or may not include a subscription to a life-alert necklace.”

I chuckle into her hair, taking in a fresh inhale of her coconut shampoo. “When a clumsy person buys you a necklace about falling over…”

We break away from one another after a few songs. She scurries away toward Maya, claiming she needs to tell her something. Soon after, my parents bring out a ridiculous cake with a photo of me aged about thirty years. Sophie cackles at the sight and mouths something about my life-alert present.

I stand behind the table with no one by my side. For the first time, I notice how empty it feels, unlike my brother who has his kids or my parents who have each other. It pisses me off how my gloomy thoughts color my mood, awareness running through me at how isolated I’ve made myself over the years. Instead of feeling proud of being untouchable, it fills me with disappointment.

My eyes connect with the one person who ripped at my mental walls. Her green eyes assess me, reading me like no other.

Everyone sings “Happy Birthday,” but I remain enthralled by Sophie. I find it difficult to ignore the growing sense of guilt at hiding McCoy’s deal from her. After my parents sing their German rendition, I blow out the candles and make a wish about my contract. I regret it a second later. I’m pathetic to wish for something minuscule and small in the grand scheme of things. Some people wish for love or good health, but selfish fucks like me wish for better career choices because I dislike choosing between two things I want.

I can’t help resenting part of myself. Here I am getting older, and I’m still as self-centered as ever. But I can’t change the course of my life no matter how much I want to.

And man, I’m really starting to want to.

* * *

I wake up the next morning to my dad cooking breakfast. We chat, catching up on the past few weeks since our last call.

“Son, I don’t mean to pry about the girl.”

“Of course, you do. I’m shocked you lasted five minutes without bringing her up.”

He runs a hand through his blonde hair, looking like an older version of me, except he ditched the short beard about ten years ago. “What the hell are you waiting for with Sophie? Girls like her don’t come around often.”

“We’re just friends.” I clench my teeth together.

“Right. Who believes that lie more? You or her?” A smile tugs at my dad’s lips.

I don’t like his level of insight into my problem. He passes me a plate of food before leaning against the counter.

“It’s not a lie. We’re friends who happen to hook up on the side exclusively. There’s nothing more to it. I took her out on a double date, and she slapped a label on it when the night was over.”

“You’re that bad of a date, huh?” My dad’s chest shakes from laughing.

“No. It looks like my reputation and the standards I set with women precede me. So, we’ve ended up doing everything as friends.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

“We upped the relationship to friends with benefits a month ago.” No use withholding information when he used to be an absolute asshole back in his day before he met my mom.

“You know, that has to be the stupidest decision I’ve heard you make.”

My eyes narrow at him. “Gee, thanks.”


Tags: Lauren Asher Dirty Air Romance