Page 22 of Getting Over You

God. I want to hear that again. And again.

“I’m kidding. But I respect that you don’t hesitate to tell me you don’t agree with my non-committal lifestyle.” Gigi looks pleased at that. “Now, if we could just get that confidence to translate to Belinda.”

“Fat chance,” Gigi admits. “But I appreciate you trying.”

Her words make my stomach sink.

“You want ice cream?” I ask after we’ve eaten.

Her blue eyes glisten. “Yes. But you’re buying.”

As we stand and make our way to EJ at the ice cream counter, Gigi says, “Can you teach me how to be the girl guys like you will like?”

I nearly choke on my spit. “Um. What?”

“I mean,” she continues, casual as can be, as if she’s telling me about the weather, “you’re clearly a casual guy. You can tell me what you look for in a girl you do that with, right?”

“You said you don’t like me,” I remind her. “Or don’t find me attractive? Whatever it was.”

“I just told you I lied,” she says sheepishly. “But I don’t meanyou,” she says. “I mean, like, a tourist or something.”

“You want a casual relationship,” I clarify, “with a tourist?”

She nods, agreeing. “With anybody, really.”

“Except for me.”

“Precisely. And not any other clearly non-committal man within city limits.”

I blow out a breath. EJ comes to greet us at the counter.

“How are you two together?” he asks.

“We’re not,” Gigi says, laughing.

EJ looks at me. I shrug. “Ice cream?” he wonders.

“Just a scoop of strawberry for me,” Gigi says. “Please.”

We get our ice cream—her strawberry, my rocky road, which she of course gives me shit about—and sit back down at our table.

Gigi is picking frozen strawberry chunks from her ice cream as she says, “So, will you help me?”

“You want me to help you get a guy to want you,” I clarify.

“Yes.” She really doesn’t needmyhelp in that department. Any guy in this town would gladly have her slender, tan legs around his waist. “If you don’t want to help me, I can start the journey on my own. It’s just… I’m…” She chews on her bottom lip, releases it. “I’ve only ever been with Marcus. So, I don’t know how to, like, you know.” She takes a bite of her ice cream.

“You’re assuming I sleep with a lot of girls and can tell you what I look for,” I realize. “Oh.”

“Don’t you?” she asks, eyes widening. “I mean, you said you don’t do serious relationships, and flings are your thing. So, I thought—”

“No,” I hold up a hand, stopping her. “You’re right. Sort of.”

Her face lights up. “Great. Perfect.” She’s looking at me expectantly. “So, you’ll help?”

“I’m still not exactly sure what I’m helping with,” I tell her.

“Teach me,” she says, leveling her gaze at me, “how to be the girl guys like you will want.”

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