Page 3 of Sugarlips
“What’s that?”
“I think we’re going to be best friends.”
“Is that so?”
Pressing her lips together, she nodded, and I couldn’t contain my smile as I looked down at her. In that moment, I really hoped she was right. But somehow, I doubted it. By the time the sun came up tomorrow, she’d forget all about the empty promises of tequila.
“You know what I think?” I asked.
“Hm?”
“I think you should drink more water.”
9:15 p.m.
“I don’t get this movie!” I shouted, gesturing at Meg Ryan, Billy Crystal and their weird 80s hair. “Seriously, no one in their right mind would fake an orgasm in the middle of a very busy New York deli. It’s ridiculous.”
“I would,” Chloe said.
“I knowyouwould. I said no one in theirrightmind.”
“Hey!” she spun and smacked me on the abs, only her hand stayed right there, palm pressed against the ridges of my stomach and her eyes went wide, hungry. “Oh.”
I quirked a brow at her, which she pointedly ignored and began moving her palm in slow circles until my shirt was riding up to reveal a strip of skin between the waistband of my jeans and the hem of my shirt. I gently grabbing her wrist to stop her. “You’re drunk, Chloe.”
She blinked, glancing up at me and licked her lips. “Yes. I’m drunk, not dead.”
With a groan, my head fell back against the couch. “And I’m a vagina, not a pussy, remember? I.e., I’m not sexy.”
“Don’t say pussy to me right now unless you’re going to do something about mine.” I tilted my head down, meeting her eyes, and she stared back at me, dead serious.
My jaw went slack. My cock, on the other hand, went completely rigid. “I thought you said we’re going to be best friends?”
“We are.”
“Has Harry taught you nothing?” I said, gesturing at the screen.
She narrowed her eyes at me, and even though she was still drunk, I was grateful that she wasn’t as plastered as she seemed earlier. “I’m going to get a cupcake. You want one?”
I silently sighed, grateful for the change in subject. “Sure.”
She stood, and I quickly diverted my eyes from the heart-shaped curve of her ass in those ridiculously sexy yoga pants. Seriously, why couldn’t she have at least put on a bra?
“Oh!” Chloe squealed from the kitchen. “You brought a unicorn cupcake!”
I had set one aside just for her when Elaina called because I knew they were her favorite. And they always sell out. “I’ll take a toasted coconut,” I said.
A couple moments later, she came back into the living room holding a plate with two cupcakes and a knife. A very large knife. The kind that you slice a watermelon with.
My eyes went wide. “Uh… Chloe, what are you doing?”
“Hold this.” It wasn’t exactly a question as she shoved the plate of cupcakes into my chest and licked some pink frosting off of her thumb. Then, she raised the knife over her head and brought it down into the leather recliner chair, stabbing and pulling it until strips of leather and foam stuffing surrounded her feet.
Just as casually as the Ethan Allen massacre began, she set the knife down on a side table and took her place beside me once more, grabbing one of the cupcakes. “It was Dan’s favorite chair.”
It was the only explanation she gave. And truthfully, it was the only one needed.
“Unpause the movie,” she said, tapping my arm and pointing at the TV screen.
