Page 23 of The Worst Guy Ever
I’m a piece of shit. I should leave.
“Use me to get yourself off,” I say, and it makes her squeal in delight. She reaches across to her bedside drawer for a vibrator. Normally, I’d slap it out of her hands before she had a chance to turn it on. Not that I have a problem with them, but I pride myself in giving it my best shot at making women come by myself before bringing toys into play. I can’t summon the energy tonight though, so I let her take what she needs until she bucks and writhes and collapses onto the bed beside me.
Getting up, I grab my clothes from the floor and head into the bathroom to deal with the condom. When I get back, she’s ready for round two, propped up on her forearms, wiggling her tits back and forth. They are great tits. They deserve so much better than me. Her face falls when she sees I’m already dressed.
“You should get some sleep,” I say, setting a glass of water by her bedside and pulling her covers up over her body. It’s the least I can do.
“But you didn’t come,” she pouts.
“I had a great time,” I say from the doorway. “You look after yourself.”
Never in my life have I slept with someone and not come. And never in my life have I walked out without making sure they’re completely satisfied.
Hattie fucking Buchanan.This is ridiculous.
I can’t have her. I can’t escape her, but neither can I have her ruining my life. Am I supposed to never hook up with anyone again without her being stuck in my head?
This has to stop now. I’ll be civil when we’re with our friends, but no more gym stalking, no more flirting, no more texting.
And definitely no more jerking it over her photos, I tell myself as I climb into my own bed and open them up one last time.
Chapter 9
Hattie
I’vemanagedtoavoidRob since our bet ended by staying late at work or accidentally-on-purpose double booking myself. I skip Friday dinners, Sunday lunches, anything where I know he’ll be there.
Kara’s not happy about it and tells me she misses me every time we speak, but it’s all different now. After her last relationship, she, Megan and I were our own little gang, and I don’t understand why now everything has to be a big group activity with Luke and his idiot mate too.
Ah well, one more step towards that spinster life.
I haven’t even heard from Rob since I told him I didn’t want to hook up with him, but unfortunately my stupid brain doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo because he’s still in my head way more than I’d like. It’s pathetic how often I think about messaging him, how often I pull up our chat and lust over all those selfies he sent when he was trying to seduce me. It pains me to admit, I kind of miss him and I’m annoyed that it was so easy for him to just give up our game.
I should be grateful, however, because this month has been hell at work and the last thing I need are more distractions.
Lawrence started doing exactly what I predicted he would, throwing ideas out into every team meeting with no consideration for how far into this project we already were. We’d already done our research, we had all the data, we’d taken preliminary ideas to focus groups, and the client loved their feedback. But no, Lawrence couldn’t leave it alone and the next thing I knew, he was being sent off to pull together some new plans‘just in case’.
Andrew must think I’m stupid, but I’ve been here long enough to know how these things play out. Lawrence can shove his new ideas up his arse as far as I’m concerned, and if I hear him say‘some food for thought’one more time, I will start throwing things.
I really need to blow off some steam and the gym won’t cut it tonight. Kara will be all loved up with Luke, rarely keen for impromptu plans since they moved in together. I’m all set to convince Megan that a night out is what we both need, but she refuses to drink during the week because she can’t bear to teach with a hangover. Can’t say I blame her.
I want to text Rob and ask if he has plans tonight, even though I know that would be the worst thing I could do right now. Desperate and needy is not a good look on me. The feeling is even worse.
I pull up an app and swipe through a few guys who are online now, pour myself a glass of wine and wait for someone to take the bait. It doesn’t take long. My phone pings with that notification sound that makes my stomach twitch. Years of this shit and I still get an excited nervousness, not knowing what I’m about to read. Will it be a fun, flirty message that lets me know I’ll be getting laid tonight? Will it be a boring bastard, or worse, an unsolicited dick pic? You never can tell.
Mark:Fancy a drink tonight?
Yes, Mark. You’ll do.
My date is waiting for me when I arrive and after a friendly peck on the cheek, he holds the door open, following me inside. He’s pretty cute, even if he’s still sporting that shaggy 2000s indie boy haircut, and we talk about music while the barman pulls two pints. I nod along, agreeing with everything he says, dancing the dance even though we both know what we came here for.
This place is busier than usual for the middle of the week, so we grab a table up at the back, and while he tells me about his work, I admire his eyes. They’re perfectly nice eyes, kind even. At least he’s not looking at me like he hates me, hates his mum, hates all women, and can’t wait to show me just how much. He’s got nice teeth, and clean hands with neatly trimmed fingernails.
That’s how I judge men. If he takes care of his teeth and his hands, I trust that he’ll be a decent enough fuck. It’s sad isn’t it, how low my bar is? I wonder if he’ll make the first move or if I’ll have to. I don’t mind if it’s me, but it’s nice to have a confident guy now and then. Rob would make the first move for sure.
Matt asks me about my work and I throw out a few of the big name brands I know always impress.
“That’s so cool,” he fawns. “Do you get lots of freebies?” They always ask.
