Page 12 of Butterfly Effect

“You’re the most emo wingman I know.”

He rolls his eyes. “Pick a girl so I can go read my book.”

My palm meets the back of his head with athwack.

“That’s not how this works. I have standards.”

“Oh, please,” he says through a sneer. “You’d bed anything with legs.”

He’s not totally off. Good-looking people are good-looking people.

“Now, c’mon. Throne of the?—”

“Seriously. Stop with the book talk.”

“Hey, you like them, too?—”

“Shh-shh-shh!” My hand silences his yappy mouth. “Will you shut up?”

A rumble rolls through his chest, and he goes back to sipping from the tiny mixing straw.

“Excuse me,hi.” A voice interrupts.

I straighten and glance over my shoulder at a petite blonde with big brown eyes and a rack to match. Her low-cut shirt barely contains her chest.

“Hey, what’s up?” I tip my chin up.

“That wassucha great game.”

Fletch winces. I kick him.

“Aw, thanks…?” My raised eyebrow cues her to go on.

“Kyra.”

“Thanks,Kyra.” I flash her a smile. She smiles back, biting her lip, pitting a sole dimple in her cheek. Cute.

Her finger twirls the end of an intentionally messy braid. “Um, here.” She pulls a pen from her purse and scribbles on the corner of my coaster. “If you ever, y’know…call me.”

Kyra strides off.

I tap on the coaster, then wave her number at Fletch, who groans.

“What thefuckwas that?”

“I call it ‘the butterfly effect.’” A gloat stretches across my face.

“‘The butterfly effect?’”

I lean in, divulging the secret.

“Once they see me drop to my knees on the ice, they can’t help but imagine my face between their thighs.”

Fletch scoffs. “You’re pathetic.”

“Says the guy with his head in a book and hand squeezing his dick every night.”

A routine in which I am very experienced.