“Night, Dash.”
I wait at the gate for her to go inside, because I don’t trust myself to help her up the stairs. I can no longer trust myself around her, period.
I’m not some cheating lowlife. I won’t hurt Annie that way and Lo deserves better, but something here has to give.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lo
Ilay upside down on the couch in a bralette and boy shorts, beer in hand, and stare at the blades of the ceiling fan as they make their lazy rotation. Clem sits opposite me on the floorboards, also in her underwear, smoking a joint.It’s hot. Too hot for June. Too hot for clothing. A fist pounds on the door and we both look at one another, hoping the other will break first. The fist pounds again and I roll off the couch and stagger to the door, opening it wide regardless of my lack of clothing.
I stare at the sexy Viking in my doorway, disheveled hair, bloodshot eyes that roam over me with undisguised hunger and I pout. “You’re not pizza.”
“Nope,” he says, proffering a six pack of beer. Condensation rolls down the cool cans and I take them from him, pressing them to my heated skin. “Do you always greet your pizza delivery guy like this? Because I think you’re tipping him more than you should.”
“What are you doing here?” I rip a can from the plastic rings and toss one to Clem. It lands on her thigh and she mouths, “Oww” but a moment later she’s resting it against her cooter. I think my friend is brilliant, and I thrust the cans back at Gabe and pull one free, rubbing it between my breasts and then over the back of my neck.
Gabe’s eyes follow the can intently. “Um ... as hot as this is, can we cut the porn show?”
“Feel free to leave whenever you want,” Clem says, riding her can and contorting her features into an orgasm face.
“Sorry, we get kind of crazy in this heat with no air conditioning.”
“It’s fine. It’s just a little hard to concentrate.”
“So, what’s up?” I lead him and his blessedly cold beer to the couch and pull him down beside me.
“I broke up with Annie.”
“Seriously?” I try to hide the excitement from my voice, but Gabe’s responding scowl is proof that I failed.
“Yeah, seriously.”
“Ding dong the witch is—”
“Clementine!” I glare at my roommate before turning back to Gabe. “I’m sorry.”
He scoffs. “No, you’re not.”
“You’re right. I’m not. She doesn’t deserve you, Gabe. But I am sorry that you’re feeling bad.”
“Thanks. Any chance you’re sorry enough to have a three-way with me and your roommate?”
Clem guffaws.
“Or I could just watch the two of you,” Gabe says with a smile.
“Nice try, Dash.”
He shrugs. “Was worth a shot.”
“I’m game if she is,” Clem says. Gabe’s brows shoot skyward.
I shove his shoulder. “No. I’m not game. And you”—I point to my roommate—“you should be ashamed, trying to take advantage of Gabe because it’s been too long since your last dicking.”
“Whatever, it’s not like you’d let me anyway,” she mumbles, getting to her feet to grab another beer off the coffee table. The doorbell rings and Clem proclaims, “Pizza is here. Finally.”
She races to the door to answer it, and I turn to Gabe—who’s looking at me with his brow all cute and crinkled in confusion.