Page 29 of Wish You Would

Gigi studied me, face unreadable. “Cool,” she said with a curt nod. “Text me your address.”

I watched her walk away, veins buzzing. From the whiskey, I told myself as I tipped back the rest of my drink and stood. Definitely the whiskey.

What else could it be?

13

GIGI

FOOLISH GAMES

My reflection glared out at me from the standing mirror in my bedroom, hands on hips, head cocked to the side. Disgust on her face.

Utter disgust.

This was the third outfit I’d tried on tonight. Three outfits, and I’d hated every one. Why? Couldn’t tell you. All I knew was, I had to leave for Parker’s in thirty minutes, and at this rate, I’d be showing up naked.

I turned away from the mirror, teeth clenched against the heat coiling through my stomach. “Fuck,” I growled, tearing my latest shirt off.

As if my uttering summoned him, Luke knocked on my bedroom door. I stomped across the floor and flung it open, glaring in my jeans and bra. “What do you want?”

“Whoa,” he said, hands up. He didn’t even flinch at my shirtless state. “Just heard you stomping around and thought I’d check in.” His eyes scanned the room behind me and he lifted a dark brow. “Fashion crisis?”

“Since when do I have fashion crises?” I voiced aloud the exact question that had been bouncing around in my brain for the last forty minutes. I lived in jeans and t-shirts. Of course I’d wear jeans and a t-shirt tonight. So, why was I having such a hard time deciding which jeans-and-t-shirt combo to go with?

Luke didn’t reply as he picked his way across my clothes-strewn floor and sat on my bed. “What’s on the agenda tonight?” He looked around my room. “Hot date?”

“No.” The denial came fast and vehement. I knew it was a misstep the moment it was out of my mouth. Luke’s eyes sharpened on my face. I folded my arms across my chest and stared back. “What?”

“Nothing.” He gave another pointed look around my room. “Just curious, is all.”

“Well, you know what they say about curiosity.” I caught sight of one of my favorite shirts tucked beneath Luke’s ass. Grabbing it, I yanked. Once freed, I shook it out and studied it. Plain black V-neck that was worn soft and nearly sheer. Pulling it on, I turned to look in the mirror. The vee was just low enough to hint at cleavage, the material just see-through enough to hint at the lace of my black bra.

I felt good in this. Confident. Sexy.

“Nope.” I pulled it off and tossed it back onto the bed. I did not need to feel sexy tonight.

Rifling through the pile next to Luke, I unearthed a gray crewneck tee and held it up for inspection. A decade-old concert t-shirt from the first time I saw Matt Nathanson live.

Then proceeded to make out fervently with the chick I’d met in the pit.

Throwing it aside, I kept digging.

“Okay. What the hell is going on?”

“What do you mean?” I didn’t have to look up to know Luke was watching me. “I’m getting dressed.”

“For what?”

I exhaled and plopped down on the bed beside him. “I’m going to Parker’s for our next flirt lesson.”

“Ahh.”

Before I met Luke, I didn’t know that one single syllable could be filled with so much. Self-righteousness, know-it-all-ness, amusement.

“Fuck off.” I stood again and reached for a mustard yellow Taco Fest t-shirt from college. Then, I reconsidered and dropped it. Fuck whoever made taco into a euphemism.

“So, what I’m gathering,” Luke said, pulling a navy shirt from the pile and holding it up for inspection. “Is that you’re going for a frumpy, sexless vibe.”

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