Page 41 of Getting Over You

“No,” she says. “He held on to it. What if he wants to add to it?”

Or use it for source material later. That’s what I would use it for, if I had a painting of Gigi Knox in my house, and I was a deranged man.

“He might,” I supply. She smirks, satisfied. “Or he’s starting a shrine, and this is only the beginning.”

Her lips part. “Cade. He’s not starting a shrine. I thought it was romantic.”

“He painted a portrait of you to get you naked.”

“And he told me he wishes he could paint a portraitof menaked,” she adds, like that makes this any better. “It was hot.”

My jaw ticks. My stomach clenches, the knot pulling itself tight. “That’s all it takes to get you? Promises of naked works of art?”

She rolls those pretty blue eyes at me.

Thinking about some schmuck painting Gigi to impress her makes me want to scream. That’s some crazy length for an idiot to go through to get her attention, and I can’t believe it worked on her just like he wanted it to.

Lucky bastard.

Gigi’s got the afternoon off, but I’m working a shift at the diner after we get coffee. I can’t stop thinking about her with that guy. My thoughts get to a point of forming an echo chamber, so I pop in my ear buds to try to quiet my head.

Pop punk can only do so much. The monotony of doing dishes leaves a lot of time to think.

The kitchen door swings open, revealing Rory. “I’m still not used to seeing you here,” she says.

I pull out one bud. “I’m sure you’d appreciate if it was EJ,” I say. “Sorry to disappoint.”

She shakes her head. “You guys are driving me insane, you know that?”

“Why don’t you guys just date?” I ask.

“That would complicate my life. Why don’t you just sleep with Gigi? I’m sick of seeing you two look at each other the way you do.”

“I don’t look at her in a way,” I say. “I know better. She doesn’t want to sleep with me.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Rory says. “It’s working out well for you.”

“I think you’re just EJ’s type,” I tell her. “You both enjoy busting my balls.”

“Very much.” Rory grins. “But she’s starting to like the artist guy a lot.”

“She said she wanted a fling,” I tell Rory. “Just not with me. Artist guy is perfect.”

“Whatever. I’m just saying. You seem like you like her. I’m sick of watching you walk around the apartment depressed and bored without her to keep you company since she’s been so busy lately.”

“I don’t need her to keep me company,” I say. “And I like her, sure. You’ve got me. But we’re incompatible. I want sex, she wants love. It doesn’t work.”

“You don’t look at her the way someone who wants sex should look at her.”

“Did you know,” I say, “you eat a lot of food in EJ’s fridge for someone who doesn’t help with rent?”

Rory flips me off.

Gigi texted me a photo of an outfit for a boardwalk date with the artist.

Is this too much?

Her tits are nearly falling out of the tank top she’s wearing. She’s got on these wonderfully skin-tight black pants. I don’t know why she still wants my opinion. She found her guy. What I say doesn’t matter. She’s better off asking Rory.

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