Page 42 of Broken Love

I twist the doorknob, but it doesn’t budge.

Oh. Of course. Some people still use actual keys.

I pull out my lockpick and knock out the final hurdle without breaking a sweat.

My phone rings as I open the door.

I answer it. “Your security sucks, man.”

“You know, I would have given you the code,” Fox says.

“My way is more fun.”

I glance around the foyer. Various movie posters hang on the walls inside frames that probably cost more than my rent back east. Dani stares back at me from every one. Damn, she’s pretty. Natural blonde hair — although, I hear she keeps it black nowadays. Bright, blue eyes.

Fox is one lucky bastard, but I’ll never tell him that. He’s smug enough already.

“How did you know I was here?” I ask.

“A concerned neighbor called Dani to tell her about a strange man in glasses climbing our fence.”

“Don’t you rich bastards have anything better to do than spy on your neighbors all day?”

“Apparently not,” he answers. “You’re going to fix it, right?”

“Of course. I just needed… a distraction.”

“Ahh, jeez,” he mumbles, recognizing my tone. “What’d you do?”

“What’d I do?! You mean what’d Caleb do?”

“What happened? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” I say, rolling my eyes. “So am I, by the way, since you’re so full of concern.”

“Please, tell me you didn’t do something stupid.”

I pause to admire their giant kitchen. Stainless steel appliances. Hardwood floors. I could definitely move in here for a while. Damn place is so big, they probably won’t even notice I’m here.

“Define stupid,” I say.

“Tell me what you did and I’ll tell you if it was stupid.”

I check the refrigerator for something strong and alcoholic. “I kind of… slept with her.”

“Already?” Fox asks. “It’s been like two hours.”

“Hey, there’s no one more surprised about that than I am, dude.”

“Whatever happened to never give a second chance to a girl with a boy’s name?”

“I never said…” I pause. “Actually, that sounds exactly like something I’d say.” I find something imported stashed in the door and grab two bottles of it. “Where’s your bottle opener?”

“Top drawer, left of the fridge,” he answers. I slide open the drawer and snatch the bottle opener off the top before shoving it closed. “Although, you probably shouldn’t be drinking right now considering the circumstances.”

“She said the same thing,” I say. “Didn’t stop her from tearing my pants off.”

“And how exactly did that lead to you sulking around my kitchen?”

---