I blink back.
“You’re missing out on—”
“What, Simon? The best three thrusts of my life? I’m good, I’ll pass.”
Dex strolls into the kitchen and pulls out a chair. It scrapes against the floor noisily. Simon looks over his shoulder at him.
“One,” Dex says, holding up his index finger. “She doesn’t seem interested. Two,” his middle finger joins in on the conversation, “This looks and smells like shit, what is it?”
Simon moves away from me and sits himself on the opposite side of the table as Dex. “It’s whatever I could find in her refrigerator.”
I look down at my plate. There’s blackened bread and what I believe is runny scrambled eggs, dotted with shells. Dex and I look at each other and try not to laugh. I’m glad Dex isn’t the jealous type and he’s right, there is nothing to be worried about with Simon. What Dex and I have is something amazing; I really feel like it’s the beginning of the rest of our lives. Maybe, just maybe, Dex is the one I end up with.
Simon takes a forkful of something that looks like it shouldn’t make a crunching sound when he’s chewing.
Dex and I watch quietly. I don’t know what Dex is waiting for, but I’m expecting some projectile vomit that Simon’s going to have clean from my walls. He drops the fork with a long clang and his shoulders fall. “Real talk. I’ve never cooked. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”
“Easy,” Dex says, standing. “You call for a pizza.” He grabs everyone’s plates and pats Simon on the back before he dumps them all in the garbage. “Pepperoni? Meatballs? What’s your poison?”
I smile to myself as they talk toppings. “I’ll get my phone and we’ll order.”
Back in my bedroom I hear the annoying beeps and chirps that first woke me up. It’s Dex’s phone, plugged into a charger on my nightstand. As I grab my phone next to it, it flashes with text messages from a number in a strange area code.
I needto see you again. Soon.
Dex. I need you.
I’m desperate. Call me.
I don’t knowthe area code to California, could this be Pippa? I don’t know his passcode, but I grab the phone in my hands and try to swipe to see more messages. Over the three messages it seems there are dozens more under them, hidden by the locked screen.
Jesus, what am I supposed to do? Do I storm in there and throttle him with his phone? I just had unprotected sex with him. My heart races and sparks of fire prickle out across my chest. The room sways and I can’t get enough air into my lungs. I stumble out into the hallway and stand by the couch. I’m still in my robe and they’re in some heated debate about the ratio of cheese to meat on pizza. I grab the bottle of wine that one of them left open on the coffee table and sit down hard on the couch to have a complete and utter nervous breakdown.
Chapter 11
Ichug wine right from the bottle as Dex calls for pizza. He’s using my phone while his beeps and vibrates across the coffee table with voicemails fromArea Code 203. Why doesArea Code 203need him? Blood rushes past my ears, making a strange white noise effect in my head. Is it Pippa Grace? If it is, why does she need him? Why is shedesperatefor him?
Dex and Simon are laughing at something now. They’re too loud. I flinch at every bark and cackle. Dex orders a heart attack worth of meat to put on a pizza.Extra bacon?Who eats bacon on their pizza? Extra meatballs and sausage and pepperoni and other stuff I’ve never heard of. I want to scream. They chuckle and pat each other on the back like they suddenly have some serious bromance with each other.Area code 203sends another voice message.
“Hey,” my voice is cracked and dry. “Dex? Your phone is exploding over here.”
He lifts up a finger in my direction as he holds the phone to his ear. “Yeah, I’ll get it in a minute.” Stuffed-crust pizza. Ham. Beef. Salami.
Area code 203.
Wherever I look I see the number 203.
Dex’s face is tattooed with it.
He ends the call on my phone and tosses it on the couch next to me. He doesn’t seem to notice me hugging the almost-empty bottle of wine to my chest, or the look of horror that I must have plastered over my face. He just winks at me.
I die a little inside.
“You should get your phone,” I croak, hugging the bottle tighter. “Looks like someone is really trying to get you.”
He leans down to pick it up. I watch his expression as he taps in his passcode and reads quickly through his messages. Is that a smile? Or a frown. I can’t figure it out. I think he sighs. Or huffs out a breath. Then he slides the phone back on the table and starts some other idiotic conversation with Simon about the best alcoholic pairings with pizza.
“I-I’m going to get dressed,” I say. Neither of them seem to hear me. I walk down the hallway into my bedroom with my ovaries on fire. Seriously. My head is spinning with all the strange exotic sexually transmitted things I could have gotten from Dex andArea Code 203.
