Page 24 of Falling for my Best Friend

S E V E N

- Lucy -

I knew my date was going to end in sex. I could just tell by the messages he’d sent me. It was so obvious. They were sexually suggestive, but not in a way that made it sound like the guy wasn’t getting any.

And I didn’t mind. I liked knowing what to expect. That’s the biggest problem I had with Cory- okay, maybe not the biggest- but he acted like he was up for a casual date when he was really trying to meet The One.

If he’d been more upfront, it would’ve saved us both a lot of time.

Brad, however, was being very clear that he was looking to meet up to have some fun. There was no mention of love or even dating. Now I know there are a lot of girls who wouldn’t dream of sleeping with someone they just met, but I wasn’t one of those girls.

I liked to have a good time, and I didn’t take sex too seriously. As far as I was concerned, it was a healthy recreational activity.

Cory would probably say this was because I didn’t value myself highly enough, but that’s not true. In fact, I’d say it’s the opposite. I valued myself too highly to pretend I wanted a relationship just because it might make the rest of society more comfortable.

I mean, it’s not that I didn’t believe I deserved love. It’s just that I believed I deserved sex, too, and the latter happened to be a lot easier to get.

And it’s not like I would just sleep with anyone. I had standards. I had to be physically attracted to the guy and believe he might actually put in a little bit of effort to get me off. I’d be damned if I would let him get away before I got mine.

And he had to be clean and not a douche. However, if he passed my initial inspection and wasn’t a complete tool, I didn’t see why we couldn’t use each other.

The other thing was- Tinder adventures aside- I liked sleeping alone. I relished never having to compromise on what movie to watch or what take out to order. And while I know I was too young to be set in my ways, that didn’t change the fact that I was in no hurry to open my heart up to strangers.

Just my legs. If they were lucky.

And when I saw Brad, I could tell he was a winner.

He looked like an Abercrombie model, too pretty to date, but not too pretty to fuck. In fact, as soon as I sat down, I could tell by his gorgeous complexion that we could never have anything serious for the simple reason that I wasn’t willing to share as much of my bathroom counter as he would need for his products.

“Brad?” I asked, trying not to sound overly hopeful, though it was a relief when people actually resembled their Tinder photos.

He stood up from his chair and rose to press his cheek to mine. “You must be Lucy.”

“Guilty,” I said, pulling out the café chair across from him. The sidewalk on the other side of the glass divider was bustling with the lunch rush.

“I like the pink,” he said, gesturing to my hair.

“Really? I was thinking of going purple,” I said, picking up the menu.

“Don’t. The pink is hot.”

I smiled. “So what’s good here?” I asked. “Since you suggested the place.”

“They’re known for their wraps.”

“I see.”

“I wish I could recommend a few options, but I go for the pulled pork every time.”

I nodded. “Creature of habit?”

“You could say that.” He poured two glasses of water from the jug on the table. “So what do you do, Lucy?”

“I’m a hairstylist.”

“I should’ve guessed.” He pretended to run his hand over his hair but let it hover slightly above the mousse barrier. “How am I doing?”

“Great,” I asked. “Your stylist did a good job. Can I ask what kind of mousse you use?”

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