Page 79 of Wright Kind of Trouble

“Come on,” Blake said, clapping my back. “Let’s go find someone for you to fuck.”

I shook my head at him. I wished that he were joking. Alas, he was not.

The only thing Blake loved more than the mountain was women. Preferably more than one at once.

We stored our boards, changed out of winter gear, and then met back up at the lodge bar. Blake had a reserved booth with whiskeys in hand and food already ordered. We were both perpetually famished after spending all day snowboarding.

I took a glass of whiskey and sank into a seat across from him.

“So, still not dating anyone?” Blake asked.

“You’re not dating anyone either, Holliday,” I pointed out.

He shrugged. “I’m dating a few people.”

“Fuck buddies do not equal dating.”

“I’m younger than you. I can still fuck around. Shouldn’t you be married?”

“Why do I put up with you again?”

“Because my family owns the place,” he said with the ease of someone used to getting everything he wanted.

I just laughed at him. There was nothing else to do.

We chatted over our dinner. Blake stood regularly to meet some girl or another, kiss her on the cheek, and promise to see her later. I was sure he was going to have a healthy rotation for the whole weekend before the night’s end.

Me, on the other hand…

“Okay, let’s loosen you up, Sinclair,” he said, rubbing his hands together.

“I’m loose.”

“You need to be easier then. There has to be a girl in the place you want to fuck.”

“You’ve picked up have the bar.”

“Come on,” he coaxed. “Pick one and take them home. You need to get fucked. I’ve never seen you this uptight.”

I shrugged and sipped on my refilled whiskey. “I’m not interested.”

“No?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “Should I be looking for guys for you?”

I nearly spit out my drink. “That is not necessary. Just because I’m not looking to have a one-night stand doesn’t mean I’m into dudes.”

“I’m not judging.”

“I assure you, if I liked guys, I’d let you know.”

“Not my type, bro,” Blake said with a wink.

I shook my head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Obviously. So, say you were interested, which girl would you pick?”

“As if I’m at a buffet,” I grumbled.

Blake shrugged. “Say you are.”

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