And let’s not even mention Connor’s imminent appearance. As if my outfit choice had anything to do with him. Yeah, right.
Who knows, tonight I might stumble upon . . . someone. Anyone. I’m so sexually deprived I may start humping a bar stool leg if I don’t get some action soon. The thirst is real.
I’ve already signaled the paparazzi around the bar, ready with their cameras. Willow’s social media stars are here too, to craft those “spontaneous” couple videos.
“Did you figure out why he wants you on this campaign? Maybe he’s got a thing for you?” Kayla asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.
I shift in my seat, the leather squeaking under the strain. Leather’s pretty sweaty.
“As if.” I take a deep breath, feeling the confession brewing. “But um . . . actually . . .”
I spill about Connor’s office striptease, barely able to meet her wide eyes.
She looks at me like I’m delusional. “Are you sure?”
“I didn’t hallucinate it, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Kayla practically bounces in her seat. “Can you imagine the headlines? ‘Connor’s Steamy Moment with PR Gal Amid Love Saga with Willow.’ It’s practically on par with the original Willow scandal!” She seems more thrilled than concerned.
“You cannot breathe a word of this,” I warn sharply.
She mimics zipping her lips and throwing away the key, a little too theatrically.
I take another big sip of my champagne, immediately thinking it might’ve been a mistake. The fizz is starting to make me feel like a balloon. Which isn’t the greatest look in a zip-up bodycon dress.
“Anyway, he didn’t exactly make a move, more like a tease before shutting it down.”
“What a jerk.” She eyes me with a mix of shock and intrigue. “But if he had made an actual move . . . would you have . . . ?”
“I’d like to think not.” I chuckle, though it’s weak. “Though the man’s not lacking in the looks department. And it’s not like I’m drowning in offers these days.”
She grins, nudging me. “Don’t forget about the double date we’ve got lined up.”
“Oh, yeah.” I try to muster enthusiasm, but it comes out more like a grimace. “Everything’s still good with Justin, then?”
I glance at Kayla, secretly hoping she’s grown tired of her new guy. I know, it’s not the award-winning friend move, but the idea of ducking out of our planned double date suddenly feels tempting.
Kayla swipes on every guy like he could be her Prince Charming. I’m more skeptical. How are you supposed to find a real connection through a few pics and texts? It’s like trying to start a meaningful conversation with a store mannequin.
We need to useallour senses. Literally sniff out that primal chemistry, like werewolves in those sexy romance novels. Get the full pheromone picture before leaping into anything. Men sniffing around for fertility, women sniffing for testosterone and a good hairline. I learned that in a really cool sex physiology talk.
Kayla beams. “Things are great. We’ve hit date number ten . . . or maybe eleven. I’ve lost count. And get this—I snored in front of him and he’s still around!”
That’s how you know it’s true love.
I raise an eyebrow, impressed. Double figure dates in the online dating world? They might as well be picking out nursing homes together.
I’m the queen of the three-date curse. Either they disappear into thin air, or I get the too-much-too-soon guys. Like that one guy who blurted out “I love you” right when he came. Talk about jumping the gun. I mean, I know I’m good, but I’m not that good. Apparently later, he agreed because after that grand declaration of love, he vanished. Maybe he was too mortified to face meagain. Or maybe he realized he didn’t actually love me, he just loved my vagina. Sad to say, he’s the only one to drop the L-bomb on me in my twenties.
“Have you guys had the ‘let’s delete our apps’ chat yet?” I ask her.
Kayla squirms. “Not yet. Feels too soon.”
“But it would bug you if he was still scrolling through other girls, right?”
“Well, duh,” she huffs.
“Ah, the delicate steps of modern romance,” I muse. “First, stop swiping. Then have the ‘let’s delete our accounts’ talk. That’s the big one.”
