Page 23 of The 7 Rules of Moving On
“Ben could work.”
Kissie followed the point of Trig’s chin toward another white man with an intensely vivid spray tan and huge muscles filling out a black leather jacket.
“Sandworm?” Ryan asked, incredulous. “Are you even serious right now?”
Trig seemed to be fighting a smile.
“Why do you call him Sandworm?” Kissie asked.
“You see, Kissie. The walls here at Mystic are very thin,” Trig explained.
Ryan leaned in close. “Ben comes like one of those sandworms from Dune, drawn out by loud, rhythmic noises.”
When Ryan and Trig both demonstrated Ben’s staccato sex-grunting, Kissie almost fell off her stool.
“Not Sandworm,” she insisted, wiping her laughter tears away. “I can’t even.”
“What about Forrest?” Ryan suggested, pointing discreetly at a handsome black man perched on the corner of a table, laughing at something another man was saying. He had a great smile, dimples.
“Ooh, yes,” Kissie said, nodding appreciatively. “He’s gorgeous.”
“Not Forrest,” Trig said definitively.
When Kissie turned around, she thought the look Trig had set on Ryan could have frozen the hot springs.
“I’m pretty sure he’s dating someone. But maybe…” Trig scanned the scene. “Dave. She should go for Dave. He’s super nice.”
“Sure,” Ryan said flatly, his eyes narrowed. “Dave’s a great choice.”
Kissie felt like she was missing something.
Pointing at another white man with blond hair and a black T-shirt who was pretending he was a fish being reeled in by a nearby woman, Ryan said, “That’s Dave.”
“Dave, it is,” she said, hopping off her stool. “You’re sure he’s single? And he won’t want me to wear a dog collar?”
Trig’s smile was tight. “Yep, completely single. And, as far as I know, not into pet gear.”
After straightening her dress, she pinched her cheeks and asked, “How do I look?”
“Like a dream come true,” Trig said, adding, “Go get him, tiger,” before she could even summon a response.
TRIG
“So, Dave, huh?Greatchoice.”
“Thank you, Ryan,” Trig responded, ignoring his friend’s sarcasm. He poured five tequila shots while watching Kissie saunter over and start dancing next to Dave.
Ryan’s finger whipped out at him, obscuring his line of sight. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing, but I do.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then allow me to enlighten you. For some reason, you are choosing the worst possible options at this bar for Kissie. I mean, Forrest over there is the obvious choice. Successful, good looking, and he is a king in bed. Believe me. Instead, you suggest Dog Collar, Sandworm, and Licker?”
“What’s wrong with Licker?” Trig asked, knowing full well what was wrong with Licker. “Dave’s a good guy.”
“You’re fucking ridiculous.”
“Your face is ridiculous.”
