Despite everything, my chest felt oddly warm.I couldn’t wait to grow up and date her.
1
KEEP THOSE HEELS ON
DYLAN
Iwas in love with my sister’s best-friend, Katie Martinez, since the day she threatened my bully when I was in fourth grade.
A sigh escaped my lips when I hunched over, glancing at my phone and stalking her social media page like a creep.I kept eyeing the quirky smile in her latest photo, which she always did when she was overwhelmed and needed to isolate herself.If only I had been there for her work dinner, I would have gotten her favorite apple juice she sipped on whenever my sister threw parties and?—
“Morning.”
I looked up to see Amanda and quickly scrolled out of her best-friend’s Instagram page and burped loudly.
“Ew, Dylan!”My sister rolled her eyes.“Can’t you act like a grown man for once?”
I may have grown taller (six-four, to be precise) with time, but I’d never grow out of annoying my sibling or the innocent little crush that had turned into a full-blown obsession of the woman of my dreams, Katie Martinez.
“I’m a grown man,” I said with a smirk, flexing my pumped biceps.I had broken my PR that morning at the gym.“Ladies loveeeee it.”
“Gross,” she said, ready to pinch my ear, but I got out of her way in time.“If you want to keep living in my apartment, then you’d have to behave.I don’t wanna know about your sex-life.”
I pulled my overnight oat bowl out of the fridge and grabbed a spoon before settling on the island stool.I watched her move around the kitchen to grab her lunch and get ready for her nine-to-five.
“That makes the two of us,” I said, chewing my food.“I had to listen toMetallicafor five hours when you and your girlfriend were doing God knows what at midnig?—”
Her cheeks flushed despite the tan, slapping my arm.“I don’t complain when you bring girls over—which, by the way, do you have some sort of harem?”
I didn’t meet her peering green eyes because if I did, I would be busted.I hadn’t told her about me being a professional woman pleaser, aka sex worker, aka an escort.After launching a million-dollar business with a close friend, I had stepped away from it and focused on what I wanted to do.
Katie.I wanted to doher.
But not before a date on a yacht, fine dining, and buying her a tub of blueberry cheesecake, her favorite.
She would love that.
That was why I had moved to Los Angeles, where I could be closer to her and maybe bump into her, since she worked atOpulence, the world’s biggest luxury jewelry store.
“I don’t have a harem,” I said truthfully.
“Whatever.”She grabbed her handbag and car keys.“I don’t care as long as you don’t get any STIs or STDs.”
My phone dinged with a notification from the app I used (and helped program) for getting clients for my job.I frowned seeing a single-letter ‘K’ message me, asking about my quotes for my services.
Who the hell asks about the pricing for sexual favors so professionally?
“By the way,” my sister poked her head through the door and said, “Katie might visit us this weekend.”
I almost dropped my phone into the overnight oats.“W-what?”I stood up and cleared my throat, pretending to stretch my arms.“Yeah, whatever, sure.I don’t mind.”
I’m so cool.
She frowned and shook her head.“Can you grab her favorite cheesecake when you get groceries?”
“Sure, whatever.”
So fucking cool.
