She’d indulged me after Christmas, bringing that sexting-inspired blow job to life, and now I couldn’t sit in my chair without thinking about it. What’s more, when she was done, we talked about the game and all the things related to it.
My interests.
Hers.
Part of me wants to be annoyed, but the other part—the bigger part—likes that I can be myself with Kinsley in spite of all our differences.
And it’s nice to be able to admit that.
To embrace it.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I excuse myself. The woman looks disappointed, but I can already feel the dread settling in my stomach.
Something’s wrong.
KINSLEY: You should ask her out! She’s pretty and TOTALLY interested!
KINSLEY: This is what we’ve been working for. Ask her to dinner—that little Italian place a couple blocks from here would be perfect!
KINSLEY: Better yet buy her a book!
I blink at the messages.
And then again, my mouth falling open as reality sets in.
Son of a bitch.
I slam the call button, immediately getting her voicemail, and barely resist sending the stupid device into the nearest wall just to watch it shatter.
Setting the book down on the table next to me, I shove my phone in my pocket and stalk out the door because if she’s going to end this, it’ll be to my face.
Because Kinsley Dane didn’t teach me how to date a woman—she taught me how to dateher,and I’ll be damned if I let her get away.
Because she made me fall in love with her.
And she’s the only one I want to fight with for the rest of my life.
22
KINSLEY
Idon’t bother going back to my apartment, on the off chance that Royce comes after me. I don’t want to be anywhere near there. That girl was perfect for him, and he’d be an idiot not to go for her.
But you like him.
He should be yours.
I push back the thoughts as I step out of the hotel room shower. I’d popped into a boutique on the way here and bought an outfit to wear to Smoke tonight. I made an appointment downstairs for hair and makeup, and can order room service if I’m feeling really ambitious.
Done and done.
Brushing away the steam from the mirror, I don’t envy the stylists. The water washed away my tears, but the redness still remains.
I want to call Nessa or someone on the team, but more than that, I want to bealone.
Which is why my ride share pulls up to Smoke at quarter after ten, no one any wiser. It’s probably stupid being here alone, but I just want to feelnormalfor once.
Unattached to anyone or anything.
