Page 38 of Gin and Lava

“They’re creepy,” the two of them say in unison.

“Okay, well, I’m not changing my wardrobe. And trust me, Naomi’s not going to be coming back for seconds. In fact, I’m so sure about that, I’ll payyoua hundred bucks if she even talks to me again, much less wants to get naked.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Connor says, quickly. “We need a timeline. I bet she talks to you within a month—let’s call that the first fifty bucks. And gets naked within two—the other fifty bucks.”

Ned rolls his eyes at his brother before looking at me with a stare that saysthis is more nuanced.

“And I’m counting naked as she shows you, or lets you touch any part of her body that’s normally off limits,” Connor continues. “Tits, ass, pussy—all the places she’d sue you for if you touched them without permission.”

“What gives?” I point at Connor. “You betagainstme the first time, asshole.”

He shrugs. “Naomi surprised me.” But then he motions to Ned. “Or maybe this Hallmark card over here has something with that chemistry comment.”

“It was nothing more than your cliché single-girl-at-a-wedding night of desperation,” I explain. “Are you going to propose and marry Arie in the next two months? If so, then maybe I’ll have a chance.”

“Don’t bring Arie into this,” Connor grumbles.

Ned nods in agreement. “Arie hates you.”

“Right,” I agree. “Because the penis shirts and dirty mouth are hot-girl repellent. And Naomi’s going to wake up this morning and remember that.” I point at Ned. “You jumping in on this bet?”

“How about I bet that this girl is going to tear you apart.”

“Dramatic!”

“Do you mean tear his clothes off,” Connor asks for clarification.

“No,” Ned says calmly. “Let me put this in 80s-film-buff-language for you, Mason. I mean she’s going toIndiana Jones Temple of Doomtear your heart out of your chest.”

“Fuck, I love that film,” I say.

“Are you even listening?” Ned frowns.

“Hey,” I defend. “I’m the one who’s betting thatnothingis going to happen. It’s your similar-DNA over here that wants me to play with fire.” I motion to Connor. “And dudes, we totally need to have an Indiana Jones marathon. I haven’t watched those in ages.”

“Great idea, Mason. You should totally invite Naomi over for that,” Connor teases. “Plus, the girl’s already seen the golden idol in your pants, so …” Connor smiles like this is already a done deal. “Yup, you’re going to pay up after you teach that girl how much she loves snakes.”

“Not happening,” I say. “But your Indiana Jones puns are on point.”

“Temple of Doom was bugs,” Ned corrects.

“Snakes and golden idols are in Raiders,” Connor replies, before looking at me. “And you should definitelyraid her lost ark.”

I shake my head. Despite their optimism, they’re both wrong. Naomi’s not coming close to the Gin n’ Lava or my big cock again.

That’s a fact.

I already know how this works. The universe was kind enough to let me have her once. Anomalies happen. But they never happen twice.

10

NAOMI

Itry to forget Shauri’s upcoming wedding and focus on work: massages, mud packs, spa treatments. But unfortunately, pounding the stress out of someone else’s back doesn’t actually do anything to relieve my own.

It doesn’t help that I’ve spent my evenings scrolling through my ex’s social media profiles. The man is freaking perfect. Everything Sam posts is fancy-doctor-approved and internet polished. For example, the photo of him in the cancer wing at the hospital promoting an upcoming fundraising event, or the five completely generic pictures of Hawaiian sunsets. The closest thing he has to a my-life-is-less-than-perfect image is a shot of a broken piece of exercise equipment, which several photos later he replaced with the newest work-out-wonder. There’s barely even a photo of Sam himself. It’s all the periphery.

Either, Sam’s super busy being a rock-star doctor to actually post anything on social media (highly-likely), or he’s so heartbroken, he doesn’t want to show anyone on the internet that he’s anything other than on top of his game (highly unlikely).

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