Page 35 of My Rules

“But you’re not into feet.”

“True, although I have to admit that yours are pretty cute.”

She smiles softly, and I feel it in the pit of my stomach.

Stop it.

“Okay, so what’s my stage name?” she replies with renewed excitement.

I stare at her for a moment. “Bambi.”

“Bambi?” She scrunches up her nose. “Why Bambi?”

“Because when they see you, they are going to be deer in the headlights.”

She rolls her eyes. “Dear god.”

“Trust me.” I smile. “They don’t stand a chance.”

She goes back to eating. “So we have enough photos for the week?”

“Yep, you just have to finish making your profile, and as soon as it’s approved, we can get started.”

“So how much did your friend make when she did this?” she asks.

“She was getting up to sixty dollars an image, and that was ten years ago.”

“If I could just make one hundred dollars a day, then my life would be set.”

“Well, at least until we work something else out,” I reply.

“Right.”

We finish dinner, and she gets out her computer and sits at the table while I lie on the couch and flick through the channels. “I swear this is the best couch of all time.”

“Pretty comfy,” she agrees. She keeps typing. “I heard you hooked up with Taryn the other night,” she says without looking up.

I sit up, horrified. “Who told you that?”

“So ...” Her eyes stay on her computer screen. “Did you?”

“I . . .”

Fuck.

“Well?”

“Not that I . . .”

“What?” she snaps.

“Know of.” I wince.

Her eyes rise to meet mine. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means Taryn’s stupid punch totally screwed me over, and I can’t remember a damn thing.”

She goes back to typing.

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