“Holy shit,” Hornsby says while gripping my leg. “Dude. . .”
“Who’s Blakely?” OC asks, looking confused.
“You have to ask her out,” Posey says, approaching us now. “Want me to formulate a plan?”
“Yes, a plan. That’s what we need,” Hornsby says.
“We could do a flash mob,” Posey suggests.
“Over my dead body,” Silas replies. “Don’t be a douche about it. Just ask her out.”
“Don’t be a douche?” Pacey asks with a shake of his head. “Coming from the guy who had to fake-date someone to fall in love.”
“You fake-dated someone?” OC asks. “What the hell is going on here?”
“It’s simple,” Posey says, leaning against Pacey’s chair. “Pacey, here, was the start of the love train. He fell in love with a hopeless wanderer up in Banff. Her name is Winnie, and she got lost in the woods, stayed the night in Silas’s cabin with the rest of us like the true champ that she is, and Pacey peed on her, said she was his, and now they’re engaged.”
“I didn’t pee on her,” Pacey interjects.
“That brings us to Eli Hornsby. Our former ladies’ man—”
“Coming from the biggest ladies’ man on the team,” Hornsby says, gesturing to Posey—which, that’s a fact. He is. He just doesn’t get called out for it.
Posey continues. “On his birthday, he was looking for someone to bang, and he found her, Pacey’s sister.”
“Can you not say it that way?” Hornsby asks.
“And he got her pregnant,” Posey says with gusto. The fucking storyteller of the group. “It was a long road for them. Jesus, the amount of time it took for Eli to finally realize he could give in to loving her. Some might say the author of his story could have cut out the last fifteen percent, and everyone would have still been pleased with the outcome.”
“Not everyone can magically fall in love like Pacey,” Hornsby complains. “Love isn’t always perfect all at once. You have to earn it.”
Ignoring him, Posey moves on. “But with Penny in our life, we met Blakely, who works for the team in VIP sales and marketing. We got to know Blakely even better when she filled in for Penny during her maternity leave. I thought our friend Halsey was next when it came to hopping on the love train, but nope, Silas pops in with a fake-dating relationship with . . .” Posey leans in and whispers, “A girl ten years his junior.”
“You’re an idiot,” Silas says.
“And he almost didn’t win her over, but thanks to my clever text messaging, he now has a live-in girlfriend, apparently the best sex he’s ever had.”
“Dude . . . be respectful,” Silas growls.
Posey holds his hands up. “Your words, not mine.” He smirks like the dick he is and continues. “But this entire time, we’ve watched Halsey slowly grow more and more infatuated with Blakely, trying to pretend he doesn’t care about her by masking his love with late nights with random women, but we all know he wishes those women were Blakely. And that he could hold herhand and go home to her warm, tender arms and bury his head right into her ample—”
“Enough!” I yell.
Posey continues to smirk. “And today, fellas . . . well, today is the day. Halsey Malachi Holmes is finally going to ask her out.”
All the boys turn toward me. Their waiting faces ready as if I’m about to raise my pointer finger and proclaim that today is the day.
Not going to fucking happen.
I shake my head. “No, I’m not. And my middle name isn’t Malachi.”
Posey’s gleeful expression falls flat. “What do you mean you’re not? Dude, she’s a free woman, ask her out.”
“Ooo . . . who are we asking out?” that very familiar female voice, who haunts me late at night, says as she enters the room.
Motherfucker, did she hear us?
My face turns beet red as Blakely steps up to our circle, looking so fucking beautiful in a pair of dress shorts with a white blouse tucked into her waistline. Her three-inch heels make her legs look so damn long it’s almost as if they have no end.
