“What’s wrong with that?” I ask. “What’s wrong with wanting to gain knowledge about our neighbors, or just knowledge in general? Not everything is about living in a fantasy world like Halsey lives in. Books can be for both pleasure and knowledge. Don’t make me feel bad for wanting to better myself.”
“By learning about Washington?” Silas asks.
“It’s a beautiful place,” I practically yell. “Now get off my case and let me get back to learning about these goddamn apples they grow.”
They all stare at me while I try to focus on the words in front of me, but they all jumble together.
“What if we don’t try to involve ourselves in your life even though there’s clearly something going on and instead, we just talk?” Pacey says. “Like we can talk about how Winnie wants to get married this Christmas Eve.”
I glance up at him. “She does?”
He nods. “Yeah, I’m not sure about it, but she’s dead set on the idea.”
“Or how about how Penny wants to get married next summer?” Eli says. “When Holden is a little older and can be the ring bearer.”
“Well . . . that’s fucking adorable,” I say.
“Or how about that I plan on proposing to Ollie soon?”
“Really?” I ask, feeling myself getting excited. Oh, the queens are making moves on their men, and I’m fucking here for it. “When do you plan on proposing?”
“Still trying to figure that out, but you would have been part of those discussions if you hadn’t been ditching us. You don’t even respond to group texts like you used to,” Silas bemoans.
“I know.” I drag my hand over my face. Guilt consumes me because unfortunately, they’re right. I’ve been MIA when it comes to our friendships. I should really be better, but I’ve only been able to process so much. The queens take up a lot of my texting headspace, especially since they run rampant during some conversations, and it’s really hard to pull them back. “I’m sorry,” I say to the boys.
“We won’t ask you why,” Pacey says. “Because it seems like it’s something you’re not going to talk to us about, but we do want you to know that we miss you.” Crap. Talk about guilt. But it’s not only that, it’s almost . . . sadness I feel. Understandably, there’s been a slow shift in the dynamic of our relationship as each of my friends have fallen for their women, but it has meant that we spend less time with each other. It’s been strange. Lonely at times. Dare I say, life had been simpler before the girls came along. Yet I’m also happy for my friends.
“And we made you this,” Eli says, pulling a sandwich from behind him. “And when we say made, we mean we bought it for you.” He sets it in front of me, and I don’t even have to open it to know that it’s a bologna sandwich.
I glance up at my friends and press my hand to my heart. “You did this for me?”
“We did,” Pacey says. “Even Halsey, but he’s reading in the back and told us not to disturb him because he just came to a plot twist. But he sends his love.”
“Wow,” I say, glancing down at the sandwich. “This means a lot. Thank you.”
“Of course,” Eli says. “And you know, you can always talk to us if you’re going through something. You don’t have to hide it.”
“Dude, we said we wouldn’t pressure him,” Silas says.
“I know, but just reiterating that we’re here for him.”
I open the sandwich and take in the beautiful smell of bologna on white bread. God, they know me so well. The gesture almost, and I mean almost, makes me want to open up about what’s happening, but at the moment, it feels way too complicated to even explain.
I’m not sure I even know what’s going on, but what I do know is that it ends tomorrow.
This bullshit is over.
I lift the sandwich to my mouth and take a bite. I give it a few chews and look at Silas. “Tell me about the proposal. I want every detail because I know you’re going to fuck it up, and Daddy Posey is going to have to clean up your mess for you. So before that happens, let’s make a plan.”
“Don’t refer to yourself as Daddy Posey,” Silas deadpans.
“Don’t make me, then,” I say with a snarky bite of my sandwich, causing Pacey to laugh.
“And he’s back . . .”
Chapter Fourteen
WYLIE
Levi:Be dressed and ready by eight tonight. You’re my wingman tonight.
“That’s what he wrote to you?” Sandie asks as she stares down at Levi’s text message from this morning.
“Yes, what does that even mean?”
I’m perched on my bed, curlers in my hair, makeup done, and wearing nothing but a robe because I have no idea what to dress myself in as his wingman.
After Sandie got off work, she thankfully rushed over to my place, where I gave her the entire rundown of the past few days. We shared a large salad and some breadsticks from our favorite Italian restaurant, and I drank a hard seltzer or two to calm my nerves.
Sandie sets my phone down and says, “I think he’ll try to break you tonight. After what happened the other night, I have no doubt that this is the crescendo. Tonight’s the night that one of you is going to give in, and it looks like it will be in his favor.”
We’re both sitting on my bed, me against the headboard, Sandie against the wall, our legs tangling in the middle. I bring my legs into a crisscross position and make sure to cover myself up so Sandie doesn’t have to deal with a free show.
“So you think he’ll flaunt another woman in front of me?”
“Yes.” Sandie nods. “That’s exactly what he’s going to do. Think about what you did to him last time. You dry-humped him, then came loudly in the bathroom so he could hear you. He’s reached his breaking point, and it doesn’t seem like he wants to be the one who gives in.”
“Trust me, if he was the one who gave in, I’d know at this point what it would feel like to have him inside me. This is a battle of wills, and he has the upper hand, Sandie. I don’t think I can go through the night knowing that he might take someone else home.”
“Then make it so he can’t take someone else home. Make it so you’re the one he’s thinking about, not some random he finds at a bar.”
“Yeah, I think I can do that.” An idea pops into my head. “What if . . . what if I ask him to help me find someone?”
Sandie’s eyes light up. “Yes, reverse it back on him. Maybe make some sort of deal where you both help each other out and see who breaks first.”
“Yes, I can do that,” I say, feeling more empowered. “I’m sure he’ll hate if I flirt with someone else in front of him. Unless . . . what if he doesn’t? What if he lets me go off with another guy, and he’s with another girl?”
“He won’t.” Sandie shakes her head. “There is no way he’s going to let you go off with any guy. Trust me on this. Someone will break tonight, and it’s going to be him.”
I smile to myself. “You’re right, it’s going to be him.”
“That’s the spirit.” She pats my leg. “Now let’s get you dressed.” She hops off my bed and goes over to my clothes where she starts looking through my dresses. “I need you to look very indecent tonight. Like, nipple ready to pop out-type outfit.”
“Do you think that’s necessary?” I ask her.
She looks over her shoulder. “Uh, very necessary. Come on, let me try a few things on you.”
I walk over to Sandie, who starts piling outfits onto my waiting hands.
This should be interesting.
LEVI
I adjustmy watch on my wrist and look at the time. She has one minute before I go barreling into her room to tell her that she’s late.
I’m all business tonight. I have one thing on my mind, and that’s breaking Wylie Wood. Like I said, this fucked-up game of wills ends tonight.
I chose to wear a pair of black jeans and a black button-up shirt, my typical club outfit. I styled my hair to look messy but also put together, left my scruff untouched, rolled my sleeves up, and made sure to put on the cologne I know she likes. I want to make it impossible for her to think of anyone but me. That’s why I also left a few of my buttons undone so she has a peek of my chest throughout the night.
Now I just have to mentally prepare for what arsenal she’s coming with. Lord knows she’s going to dress to kill. I’m not fucking dumb. She’s an incredibly sexy and sexual woman, and she’ll dress provocatively—sensually—to make it impossible for me to look at any other woman. Lucky for me, I’ve already texted Samantha at the club. I told her what was going on, and she has no problem helping me out.
Samantha is a regular who I’ve played around with a bit. She’s devastatingly gorgeous with long black hair, a killer body, and deep brown eyes. Being naked in front of people doesn’t faze her, and she’s been up on the main stage quite a few times, getting off for everyone to see. She’s excited to play the part tonight.
So I have my bases covered.
Tonight, Wylie will break.
Just then, I hear heels clicking down the hallway, so I brace myself as Wylie appears in the kitchen. And yup . . . fuck . . . me. Jesus Christ, did she come to fucking play.
Her red hair is curled and voluminous, stretching past her shoulders and down her back. She went with a dark eyeliner, making her eyes pop, and a deep red lip that matches the vibrant color of her hair. And the outfit she chose, if you want to call it that, is a tight mini skirt that barely reaches her mid-thigh, and a single tube top that ties in the front and covers nothing but her breasts, and barely covers them if that. Pretty sure it’s one of those bras she was talking about, but strapless.
Yup, she came to fucking play.
When she sees me, she pauses and wets her lips as she lets her eyes trail over me. “Ooo, boss man is looking to get fucked tonight, isn’t he?”
By you, yes.
“I am,” I say.
She walks up to me and pats me on the chest. “Don’t worry, I’m going to be the best wingman you’ve ever had.”
With that, she struts toward the front door, clutch in hand, ready to go.
Let the games begin.
WYLIE
“You’re quiet,”I say after about ten minutes of silence in the car. “Are you mentally preparing to pick someone up?”
“I don’t need to mentally prepare,” he says, his grip on the steering wheel tight.
“Okay, well, can you tell me what you expect from me as your wingman?”
“Talk me up, make me look good, make sure the girl trying to get with me is worth my time.”