“Pretzel bites coming right up.” Mia puts in our order and begins making our drinks.
“You’re the best,” I tell her when she slides over two cosmopolitans.
Her attention’s snagged at the other end of the bar by her co-worker, and Kat and I carry our drinks to a corner table, taking a seat. “Since when do you like cosmopolitans?” My friend raises an eyebrow.
I let out an annoyed sound from the back of my throat before taking a sip. “I don’t know.”
Watching Mia over the rim of my cocktail glass, I can faintly hear Kat telling me something, but it’s hard to focus, not with Mia and her male co-worker being sofamiliarwith each other.
“Hellooooo? Are you listening?” Kat says.
“I don’t like the way the other bartender is a little too handsy with my girlfriend,” I admit, tearing my attention away from the duo.
Kat discreetly glances at the bar. “He handed her a bottle opener; I’d hardly call it handsy.”
“Whose side are you on?” I demand.
She holds up her hands. “The hands-free side. Look, if your girlfriend wanted to be with guys, she’d certainly have her pick.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I huff.
“What I mean is she’s hot, and she picked you.Freaking relax.”
“You’re right.” I let out a long breath. “I know you’re right. It’s just I’ve always known I was into both teams, but with Mia, I’m the first female she’s been with. What if it’s a fluke, and she figures it out and goes back to playing with the men’s team?”
Interesting Mia wants the D but not the P, yet she’s in a ‘relationship’ with a woman.
With a grimace, I down my drink.
“Girl, you’ve got to stop, or you’re going to sabotage this thing yourself,” Kat warns me.
“When did you suddenly become the relationship expert?” I deflect, because deep down I know she’s right.
She snorts a laugh. “Do as I say, not as I do.Obvs.”
“I need to go to the bathroom. Keep an eye on them,” I tell her.
Walking in the opposite direction of the bar, I’m fighting every urge to go over there and…
Cause a scene.
Be needy as hell.
Pin Mia down on why she won’t godownon me.
Forcing myself to do none of the above, I enter the ladies’ room and touch up my lipstick, taking a deep breath.
My phone buzzes, and I grab it from my purse. Opening the message, I have to pick my jaw from the outdated tile.
Offer accepted.
The number is unknown, but I could pick that pierced dick out of any lineup. Which is troubling. One of themanytroubling aspects of this, including but not limited to me zooming in for a closer inspection.
Damn. It’s just as pretty as I remember. Nice size and girth. Beautiful smooth pink skin, unlike a veiny, angry-looking purple dick. Those freak me out, like a vein might rupture and the dick explode or something.
Gavin’s big hand is wrapped around the head, and I zoom in on the barbell.
I’ve never been with a guy with any type of dick piercing, I wonder…