“You gonna be okay to drive home?”
Pfft. “I’m fine. That whole thing was totally bizarre, but I never have to see Brian again unless the asshole shows up at our class reunion.”
I can shake it off.
I don’t want to think about the confrontation Brian and I would have had if Duke hadn’t swooped in and threatened to kick his ass.
“You can hire me to be your bodyguard.” He chuckles, removing the sunglasses from his face.
“Take all that off. You look so stupid.”
I have both my legs out of the car, purse in my hand, ready to go back to my own vehicle. When I look back over my shoulder at Duke, he’s staring at me with those big blue eyes—without the cap and the wig.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hmm.”
“That guy was a creep. Your next date won’t be anything like that. It might not be perfect, but it won’t be anything like that.”
“I know.” But that doesn’t mean I won’t be a hair bit gun-shy, and he and I both know it. It took a lot for me to come out tonight, and I wind up out with a complete douche canoe.
There’s no doubt I’ll be spreading the word as far and wide as I can that Brian Campbell is a dangerous guy.
I shiver.
“You’re cold—better get home.”
I nod. “You following me?”
“Uh, yeah. I got lost g’ttin' here. I have no idea where the fuck I am.”
He got lost getting here? “It’s seven miles away.”
His chin rises. “I don’t trust the directions.”
I laugh as I close the passenger side door, walking slowly to my car, fully aware that his eyes are on me the same way his fingers were in my vagina this morning, tongue in my mouth,and stop thinking about it, Posey!
Before starting the car, I shoot Kate, Molly, and Anna a group text.
Me:Worst date everrrr!!!!! Brian Campbell is a P-I-G. On my way home, will text more later.
I set the phone in the center console before starting the ignition and putting it in drive.
12
duke
Reasons tonight was the worst:
I got totally taken advantage of by the crotchety old woman next door, who knew damn well I was going to pay her whatever price she wanted to borrow her car.
Posey had the shit scared out of her by the dickhead I knew was going to be a dickhead.
I hate being right about the second one.
She’s locked in her room—or at least, the door is closed—after we arrived home, her door closing shortly after she disappeared up the stairs.
I set the bag of chicken remnants on the counter, along with my mullet wig, baseball cap, and sunglass disguise.