Waitin’.
That accent.
Those abs…
My hand is on the doorknob. “You wouldn’t dare climb out the window.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
“There’s no ladder!” I hiss.
Duke couldn't care less. “I love a challenge.”
I catch him winking as I close the door.
* * *
I love a challenge…
He wasn’t speaking to me when he said it—wasn’t speaking about me, either. He was talking about scaling the side of the house to get down to the yard.
Still.
I lie in bed, tossing and turning, his words echoing in my mind.
After everyone left—calling Ubers because they were all drinking—I came up to my room and hid, wanting to be alone with my thoughts.
Duke Colter is a celebrity, and you are a schoolteacher. He would never be interested in a woman like you.
Plus, he is five years younger.
Clicking open the app store on my phone, I type in the word DATING and hit SEARCH. The results are a long list of dating and connecting and hookup apps.
I download one and bite down on my bottom lip.
Who meets people this way anymore?
Everyone, the little voice says.
Literally everyone.
Once upon a time, I had an online dating account, and apparently, I hadn’t actually deleted my account; deleting the app from my phone is not the same thing as deleting the actual account, and so—all I have to do is enter my phone number and wa-lah! There’s my profile.
It's old.
Outdated.
Embarrassing…
I look so young in these photographs. And naïve.
And full of hope.
Well. I’m not so full of hope anymore. This new, more mature Posey has a bit of an edge.
A bit of an edge? Ha.
Duke would laugh if he heard me saying that. The man probably has a motorcycle and a fancy sports car that cost more than this house I’m sleeping in, gives zero fucks about what anyone thinks, and can probably ride a bull.