Phil holds up his hands. “Hey, I’m the idea man. You got a problem with performance, that’s your problem.”
The attractive blond waitress takes that moment to set my pint on the table, her mouth twitching as she clears a glass. I shake my head her way, as if to say, Don’t listen to this jackass.
The waitress leaves, and I lean toward Phil. “You want to keep your voice down. I don’t have a problem getting it up. Where the hell did you get that idea?”
Phil shrugs. “You said this girl, Mira, cut off your balls.”
Does he remember everything I say? Clearly I’ve been talking out of my ass. “I meant figuratively. Believe me, getting it up isn’t the issue. Everything’s on high alert. That’s part of the problem,” I mumble.
“Oh, hoo.” Phil slaps his hand on the table and leans back in his chair. “So we get to the bottom of it. You want her and she doesn’t want you, so you don’t want to live with her.”
“What? No. That’s not it at all.” Dammit, is that it? “The point is we are completely incompatible?—”
“Seems one of you is compatible.” He glances at my lap.
I stop in mid-speech, staring incredulously at my jackass friend.
First of all—dude, why is my buddy checking out my balls? Second, he may be right. It causes me no small amount of agitation that I still have a physical attraction to Mira. Puts me in a downright fucked-up mood.
This conversation is giving me a headache. Somehow Phil’s suggestion is sounding more and more tempting.
I scan the surroundings. Avalanche Pizza is a major hangout. Girls come here in their short shorts and flip-flops, wearing skintight tanks and full makeup. It’s a casual pickup joint is what it is. Why not scope someone out and bring her home tonight—test Phil’s theory? It couldn’t hurt. His idea is dodgy at best, but under the circumstances I can make an exception.
I swig the last of my second pint. I haven’t had a hookup in a while, but it might be just what I need.
Lacy trips over the threshold. “Oops,” she whispers loudly in my ear.
“Easy, girl. Why don’t we sit you on the couch?”
When I picked up my and Phil’s waitress at Avalanche Pizza, I thought she’d be fun. Hot body, pretty face, sweet demeanor—an all-around ringer for a good time.
The only problem? Lacy is a lush.
As soon as her shift ended at eleven, she started pounding pints. Phil had a tough time keeping up. I gave up entirely. Someone had to drive us home.
Lacy was so smashed by the time we left, I decided to take her to my place and get her sober. Hooking up wasn’t on my mind. Trashed girls don’t do it for me, but that doesn’t mean I leave them to their own devices. Not when I covered the bill for her drinks. I’m partly responsible.
I guide her to the couch and she sinks like a rag doll.
This is a disaster. I should never have listened to Phil. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”
“Beer?” she slurs.
I have it in the fridge, not that Lacy will see any. “Sorry, I’m all out.”
I bring her the water and sit next to her. She rolls into me, and for a moment, I don’t mind. It’s been a while since I held a girl. I’d forgotten how nice it is.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders and she slips her hand up my shirt, caressing my stomach and chest. I’m okay with the easy touching—still not into the drunk hookup, though.
“Lacy, we should think about getting you home once you’ve had a couple of glasses of water. Is there anyone there? A roommate, maybe?”
I don’t feel comfortable dropping her off by herself in this condition.
“Nope. Want to come over? I bought a new mattress. It’s massive.” She nips my chin with her teeth. “We can do all sorts of fun things on it.”
“Ah, no. I was thinking of crashing. I’m pretty tired.”
The corners of her mouth turn down. “Oh.”
