Page 193 of How to Win the Girl

“Oh, that would be awesome. We’d love that.” Stella laughs. “I’ll clear my schedule.”

Ryann is at the edge of the bed now, looking back at me. I have my back pressed against the wall, leaning against it in a sitting position.

“Is there anything you want me to tell him when I get home?”

“No. Nothing I can’t tell him myself.” I scoot so I’m at the edge of the bed, too, then hug Ryann while I tell her, “Thank you.”

“It’s no less than Posey did for me when I started dating Dallas. It’s like—paying it forward. And if Drew starts dating anyone anytime soon, we can ambush her together.”

Ha.

“It was nice meeting you,” I tell her as she slips into her sneakers. “Thank you for coming. I needed it.”

No offense to Stella—I love her to death—but having Ryann here with insider information makes the situation feel less intimidating and manageable. And now I know that Shannon wasn’t telling the truth when she said they were sleeping together. I still have no idea how long before he and I met that they were banging, but realistically, does it even matter?

Only once I’m alone in my room again do I collapse back on my bed, this time with relief. It’s a stressful kind of relief; I’m still tense and nervous about the conversation I need to have with Drake, but at the same time, some of the worry is gone.

I pick up my phone to message him.

Hey… you there?

Of course I’m here.

What are you doing?

At the gym blowing off some steam so I don’t drive my truck through the neighbor’s house, but I can be over in five minutes if you want to talk.

I could talk, but you don’t have to be here in five minutes. Maybe I should come to your house? I feel like I’ve been cooped up for the past 24 hours and should get outside…

What if I met you at the park instead? Neutral ground?

That works too…

Half hour? I’d like to scrub my balls quick so I’m not a sweaty mess.

Wow. Seducing me with your words already…

At least I’m consistent…

Very true.

fifty-four

drake

Shut up, heart. You’re fine.

I had justenough time to grab her flowers—an oversight I forgot on our fancy dinner date, but I’m making up for now.

Are they “forgive me” flowers? Yes.

So what.

Sue me for trying my hardest to apologize.

I pull at the collar of my shirt, glad I had something decent in the back seat of my car to wear, the black golf shirt had been tossed in the cab after the last time I’d gone golfing and had never been taken out.But also not washed.

I sniff my pits.

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