Page 44 of Wildly Inappropriate

I roll my eyes, glad my mom can’t see me. She’s back on the Jameson Walker train these days, but there was a rough couple of years recently when she regularly tried to get me to stop spending time with him. Now he’s playing well, and she’s back to trying to use our friendship to her advantage.

“He’s not interested in switching, Mom.”

“Well, if something changes, let me know. About Jameson or your date. I’m sure Morgan can be available if you need her.”

Yeah, right. Pigs will be flying around the golf course before I take Morgan with me. I’m sure I can find some way to convince Lila to go. Maybe she can be bribed with a trip to a bookstore while we’re there.

I say goodbye to my mom and stare down at my food. Completely inedible. I take it and dump it in the trash, then grab a protein bar from the cupboard instead. Yum. Dinner of champions.

“What are you wearing?” I ask when Lila emerges thirty minutes later. She’s wearing jeans and a navy blue T-shirt with the letters WBHS stamped above a picture of a charging horse.

“Did you get your fajitas made?” she asks instead of answering me, suspiciously eyeing the plate in front of me.

“Yep. They were fucking delicious too.”

She looks around. “You didn’t save any for me?”

“No. Did you think I was going to?”

Her cheeks flush a bit pink, and, to be fair, she’s had quite a bit of leftovers the last few days, so we’ve taken to sharing meals. But we’ve both been very clear that it was just because there were leftovers. Definitely not because we enjoyed the verbal sparring while she cooked dinner.

“Okaay,” she says, pulling her phone out of her pocket before typing on it. Whomever she’s texting responds right away, and she types something back before turning her face back up to me.

“No worries. Matthew confirmed there will be food at the game tonight.”

Suddenly, her shirt makes sense. WBHS is Wild Bluffs High School. Their mascot isn’t the Stallions, though I think one of the Harpers mentioned it was something horse-related.

“You’re going out with that guy again?” I ask, my voice harsher than intended.

Lila looks at me for a second, her head tilted to the right, her eyes searching my face as if trying to decide something. She just shrugs. “Just because you find the idea of dating me repulsive doesn’t mean everyone else does.”

“I don’t find the idea of dating you repulsive,” I say, all thoughts of asking her to join me at the Ferguson event slipping from my mind. She scoffs, so I continue, “I find the idea of datingat allinconvenient. I have to focus on my game right now.”

“Well, then. There you go. Since it’s an inconvenient time for you to date, I clearly shouldn’t ever go out again.” She lightly smacks herself in the face. “Oh, wait! I just remembered. I don’t care what you think.”

“Maybe you should. I’m doing pretty darn well for myself.”

“Are you, though?” she asks, her lips downturned as she shoots me a pitying smile that immediately makes me want to rage.

And in a way I only ever do around Lila, I let that rage break free. “Fine, then. But good luck pulling the pieces of shrapnel out of your back after he fucks you on your glass-covered bed.”

“Wow. That escalated quickly. Luckily for me, he has his own house. Maybe I will bring him back here, though. I bet I could figure out some creative ways to avoid the bed. The bathroom counter is safe…”

Like fucking Hell she will. I almost bark at her that the counter is our fucking place, but I catch myself, my hand tightening into a fist instead.

I force a smirk onto my face. “Don’t set the poor guy up for failure by giving him suchstiffcompetition.” I raise my eyebrows at the word “stiff,” so she knows exactly what I’m talking about.

“Oh, I’m sure he can handle it. The bar is very low.” She stares right at me, her expression flat, her body language not giving me anything. And, even though I know I’m being gaslighted—gaslit?—my confidence wavers. She had a damn good time on that counter in Vegas. I made sure of it. Shit, I made sure of it twice. But maybe she didn’t? Could she fake ecstasy like that? No. I shake my head, causing her to huff out a sigh of displeasure. Lila would never fake something like that. She would bust my balls until I gave her exactly what she wanted.

I’m too busy mentally backtracking through our entire night together to respond, and the next thing I know, Lila is pulling the door open to the house, the sight of a white pickup just visible through the opening.

“Don’t wait up!” she calls.

I would never dream of waiting up for Lila to find out how her stupid second date went. I’m sure the guy is some weird local who can’t find anyone new to date so is pulling out all the stops to woo Lila. Though, if a high school football game is the best he can do, the poor guy doesn’t stand a chance. What a terrible second date. Maybe he and Lila deserve each other.

I look around the empty house, suddenly feeling more alone than ever, even though I’ve lived by myself for half a decade at this point. A look at the empty bed in our room—fuck,our room—and a wave of nausea rolls through my body. Hoping the feeling is just a bit of light food poisoning from the terrible chicken I made, I force myself to drink a big glass of water. Maybe getting something else into my stomach will cause me to feel normal again. “Dilution is the solution to pollution” and all that.

Chapter twenty-two

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