No.Devon.
Devon the Douche.He strode forward to glare like I'd just ruined his night. "What areyoudoing here?"
I didn't bother glaring back. "Minding my own business. You should try it sometime."
"Maybeyoushould try it," he shot back. "She'smyex-girlfriend."
I laughed. "Keyword. Ex."
This made him frown. "So you've got a thing for her, too?"
"Too?" I repeated. "So who's the second guy? You?"
He drew back. "Me? No way. If I wanted her, I wouldn't have dumped her."
When I responded with only a shrug, he said, "And like I told you last night, I've already moved on."
Whoa. Last night?
Holy fuck.
Onlyoneday had passed since I'd been standing here the first time?
But I didn't need a calendar to know the guy was right. Ever since I'd met Tessa, it was like I'd fallen into a time warp, where everything went slower and faster at the same time.
It felt like I'd known her forever and yet not nearly long enough. The sensation was new and unsettling, like a drunken dream – except I had no interest in waking up.
I gave the guy a quick once-over, taking in his plaid flannel pants and wrinkled sweatshirt. "If you've moved on, how come you're lurking here in your jammies?"
"They're not jammies," he said. "You see the sweatshirt, right?" When I replied with only a pointed look at his pants, he mumbled, "Andyou'rethe one who's lurking."
"But not in my jammies."
He didn't look amused. "So? Do you have a thing for her, or what?" He shrugged. "I mean…it's okay if you do."
I grinned. "Nice to have your permission."
This made him frown. "I wouldn't go that far. I mean…I neversaidyou had permission."
I laughed. "Good thing, since I don't need it."Was I messing with him?
Hell, yeah.
I wasn't into Maisie.I hadn't even met her. But Iwasinto her roommate, who was worth ten of this guy.
And the way I saw it, Devon the Douche could use a little more worry. I knew his type all too well. He'd probably played his whole life on easy mode and wouldn't know a real challenge if it bit him on the ass.
But judging from his face, something was nibbling at his backside now.
I meant that literally, because with a grimace, he reached into the back pocket of his flannel pants and pulled out his cellphone. One look at the screen, and he jerked like he'd been zapped. "Fuck."
I gave him a look. "Problem?"
"No. Not at all." Turning away, he put the phone to his ear and said with forced bravado, "Oh, hey, babe. How's it goin'?"
I couldn't hear what the caller said, but it made him flinch before he replied,"BecauseI was looking for those mints you like."
Another pause.
