Page 42 of End Game
“Yeah, I saw it. Finn told me he was going, so I’m not worried about it. We aren’t exclusive, anyway.”
“I think my brother could be exclusive. Branch? Not so much. And that’s exactly why I don’t want him to call. I can’t deal with this. I can barely deal with it and it’s not even my problem. The only thing I need right now is a ham and cheese sandwich.”
“I’m not taking you anywhere looking like that.”
Heading down the hall, I enter my bedroom. I leave the door open so I can talk to my friend. “What’d you do this week? Anything fun?”
“Oh, I’ve had fun this week, but not the kind you wanna know about.”
“Are you still messing with my brother?”
“Putting it lightly.”
Throwing on a pair of black yoga pants and a white and black striped top, I look in the mirror. The top is wrinkled and makes my frame look wide, so I jerk it off and replace it with a pretty teal-colored t-shirt. My hair in a bun, flats on my feet, I’m back in the living room as Poppy’s wraps up the PG-version of her latest tryst with Finn.
“You didn’t hear any of that, did you?” she laughs as I grab my purse.
“I tried not to.”
She squares her shoulders to me, her purple-y lipstick shining as she presses her lips together. “Branch asked me about you a couple of days ago.”
My heart flutters in my chest, even though I try to mentally shoot it down. “Where did you see him?”
“At Finn’s. He was really cute about it, Layla. He asked how you were and if you got your work done. And for what it’s worth, he knows you didn’t need to get any work done.”
“Fuck him.”
“You already did that.”
Sighing, I drop my purse back on the sofa. “It was amazing. I won’t lie. But I mean it too when I say I wish I hadn’t done it.”
“Spreader’s remorse?”
“What the hell is that?” I laugh.
“You have remorse you spread your legs. It is what it sounds like,” she says matter-of-factly. “Granted, most women have it because they wake up and the guy is married or not nearly asgood-looking as he was with a couple of shots in ya, not because he’s the catch every woman wants to make.”
“He’s the catch you make right before you get blindsided.”
“Nice football analogy!”
“Whatever,” I sigh. “Call it whatever lame term you want, but I do wish I hadn’t done it.” I walk to the window and look down at the traffic. My emotions are still a little bruised and hearing him ask about me only feels like another knock right where it hurts. “I think it was too soon after Callum.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know. I’ve had one-night stands before. You know that.”
“Remember the singer from the karaoke bar on the south side?” she giggles.
“Worst one-night stand ever,” we say in unison before falling into a fit of giggles at the guy who asked me to fetch him a toothbrush the next morning.
“I have no problem with detachment,” I point out. “I can get on for the sake of getting off, but I have such a weak spot for athletes and Branch is . . .”
“The best of the best?” she snickers.
“So cheesy,” I laugh. “But, yes, more or less. He’s off hanging out with models and I’m in my pajamas until noon eating Nutella off a spoon. It makes me feel sad and I want my girl power back.”
“I hear you. Your feels are fair.”
