“She’s not even your type.” I put my hands on my hips.
“Are you kidding?” He frowns. “Kayla is everyone’s type.”
And there it is ... the answer I was looking for. He thinks she’s as wonderful as I do.
This is all going to hell on a broomstick.
“Okay, bye.” I begin to walk, and he drives the car beside me.
“So, what time on Tuesday?”
“Blake,” I snap in exasperation, “you and Kayla do your own thing.”
“I thought we were double dating for a while?”
“That was until—” I cut myself off.
“Until what?” His eyes hold mine intently.
Until you bonked her brains out on the first night ...
“I just don’t . . .”
“I know.”
“You know what?” I cut him off.
“I know it’s hard for you to start dating. But I want you to know that I’m here for you.”
Is he kidding?
“Oh no, that’s not it at all. I just want Gregory all to myself, and no offense, but you and Kayla are kind of cramping our style.” I keep walking.
“Right.” He smirks as he drives along beside me. “Hot night planned, huh?”
“Yep.”
“All right, just one bowling match, and then Kayla and I will get going,” he calls as he drives off. He waves out the window.
I watch his Porsche disappear down the road and pull up at his house. His garage door slowly goes up, and then he drives inside.
Ugh ... Why do I say such dumb crap?
Blake
“The honeymoon was good?”
“It was fucking great.”
“So get this.” Henley puts the ball into the hole. “I was on the app while I was away.”
“Yeah.” We look around guiltily and move in closer.
“There’s a book trope called hucow,” he leans in and whispers.
“What’s that?” I whisper.
“Breastfeeding during sex.”