Page 17 of Wish You Would

“Teach you…” Gigi looked toward the closed stall door, as if asking the drunk girls on the other side if they were hearing this nonsense. “Parker, what?”

“I know. It sounds stupid.” I grabbed her hands and her eyes found mine again. “But you saw me out there. I’m hopeless. If left to my own devices, I…” I trailed off and gestured around us. “Well.”

Gigi frowned and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not some sort of gay guru, Parker. I don’t have magical powers or techniques that will turn you into a prodigy of pussy.”

“I know.” I pulled a lock of hair over my shoulder and twisted it around my finger, proud of myself for not flinching at her vulgarity. “I just thought—”

“There’s no guarantee here. I’m not gonna slap a How You Get the Girl in Five Easy Steps sticker on this shit.”

“No, of course. I—”

“The most I could do is give you a few starter points. The rest is up to you.”

“Right. I know—” I stopped, eyes flying to her face. “Wait. Does that mean you’ll do it?”

Gigi frowned harder, but the expression did not toughen her up. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

I smiled and bounced on my heels. “Thank—”

“Teach you how to flirt,” she grumbled, shaking her head. Reaching for the door, she unlocked it. “Tomorrow afternoon,” she said before she opened it. “Be here.”

I nodded. “Okay. I will. Thank yo—”

The door swung shut in my face before I could finish the sentence.

9

GIGI

BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY'S

I sincerely did not know what I was thinking last night.

My body still buzzed from the pound of the music moving through it. My brain still sang the melodies of every song. And my heart? Well, it was the fullest it’d been in a long time.

But now, lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling as I replayed everything, I sincerely did not know what I’d been thinking.

And that was before I even thought about my conversation with Parker.

Oh, god. Parker.

I closed my eyes as the memory surged through my brain.

Teach me.

The earnestness in her blue eyes. The warmth of her hand on my arm. The instant desire to give her any- and everything she wanted in that moment.

Even, apparently, teaching her how to flirt. With someone else.

What the fuck?

Rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes, I groaned. There was nothing to do now but face the consequences of my own actions.

My own stupid, impulsive, people-please-y actions.

“All right,” I grumbled as I sat up and threw back the covers. “Move your ass.”

My socked feet were silent on the hardwood as I crossed my bedroom and flung open the door. “I hope the coffee’s strong this morning,” I called toward the kitchen, where the clanking of dishes and smell of bacon emanated from. “I had a wild ni—”

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