Page 51 of Fabulous Filthy Friend

Alicia’s brow creases. “What’s this little red number one icon over your name on the top corner?”

I lunge toward her and grab the phone. “Holy shit! It’s a private message.”

“From who?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never gotten one on the site.”

She rises, rounds the table, and drops into the seat next to me. “Well, don’t just stare at it. Open it.”

I click on the icon. “Oh, my God. It’s from HRD4U.”

HRD4U

I saw your comment on my live video last night and the one from the earlier feed. I know it can be difficult to find what you’re looking for. I, myself, have been struggling to find someone. Though, honestly, I haven’t really been looking, and like I said in the video, I wouldn’t ever date one of my viewers.

Crap. Did he think I was asking about us getting together?

I wasn’t.

Well…I mean…

If we had met under more “normal” circumstances and hit it off in other ways besides sexually. But that isn’t the case. This is an online porn star and I’m a kindergarten teacher. I definitely wasn’t suggesting we get together, and it would be a bad, bad idea.

Alicia slaps me on the arm. “Write him back!”

“Oh, my God, I have no idea what to say. For real, what should I say to him?”

She squeezes my arm and practically squeals with delight. “Just be honest.”

“No.” I shake my head and close my phone. “No, I’m not writing him back.”

What the hell would I say? Really?

“You really should. It might be fun to chat with a hot online porn star.”

I turn toward her. “Weren’t you the one just telling me to give Dan a chance?”

She returns to her chair across from me. “Well, yeah. But why can’t you do both?”

Just be honest.

Easier said than done, isn’t it?

Especially when honesty means admitting my deepest, darkest secrets, the ones I just told my close friend only now. Then again, I don’t know him, and he doesn’t know me.

So, what’s the worst that could happen?

13

FLYNN

The front door flies open, and Rachel flutters in with a giant pizza box balanced on her hand. “Hey, have you eaten yet? I come bearing pizza.”

My stomach gurgles, and I drag myself up into a sitting position from where I’ve been reclining on the couch and motion toward the seat next to me. “Grab a seat. I was just trying to find something to watch.”

For the last three hours.

It’s been impossible to concentrate on anything. I’ve flipped aimlessly from cooking shows to reality home buying to 90s comedies. Nothing can hold my attention. Which seems par for the course lately.

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