Page 74 of And Then Came You

“Okay.” I grip the phone, uncertain I want to know what’s next on the docket.

“What’s your reason?”

What in the world is this man talking about? “My reason for what?”

“You said I’m not your type. I want to know why. Is it my job? Where I live? My sexual history? My tattoos? My piercings? That would be a stupid reason, by the way.”

“Agreed.”

“Then whatisyour reason?”

I shake my head, trying to clear the fuzziness from the glass of wine. What am I missing in this conversation?

“Why does Damian get to date you, while I’m in the friend zone?”

I pull the phone from my ear and stare at it. He can’t be serious with this line of questioning. “Sam, are you drunk?”

“Maybe. What does that matter?”

I huff out a sigh. Not again. “Because you don’t mean any of this, and you’ll realize that in the morning.”

“Now I don’t know what I mean? Just answer the question.” But before I can utter a word, he ploughs ahead. “A tongue ring is actually amazing during sex.”

“Good to know,” I manage.

“Have you ever tried it?”

“You know I haven’t.”

“You’re missing out.”

“On all sorts of things, I’m sure.” I rub my forehead as I try to keep the headache at bay, unsure how I fell down this rabbit hole.

“I’m not kidding. When I lick you, it hits this spot and you’ll be gushing in seconds. I bet you taste amazing.”

I’m trying to remain unaffected, but his lascivious ramblings are getting me all kinds of hot and bothered. I know he’s drunk, and I refuse to read into anything he’s saying right now. “Sam—”

“Justtellme.”

“Tell you what?”

“Why him?”

I want Sam to drop this topic, but it’s apparent he has no intention of letting it lie unanswered. “I’ve only been on a couple of dates.”

“Were they any good?”

“They were nice, I guess.” What am I supposed to say? No one compares to you, but until I look like a runway model, I don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell?

“Did you fuck him? Wait, I don’t want to know.”

An agitated huff flies from my lips as I down some more wine. Mayday, Sam is steering this conversation in a dangerous direction. “Good, because I wasn’t going to tell you.”

“That means you did. Fuck.”

A low thud sounds from the other end of the line, but I’m not sure if Sam hit something, tripped over something or chucked something across the room. I’m also not sure I want to know. “What was that noise? Are you okay?”

“You fucked him? You went on two dates. You’ve known me for months.”

---