“Does that terrify you?”
“Completely.” I let out a shaky laugh. “Although I’m flying out to see him in California, which is insane because I don’t?—”
Demi nearly chokes on her pastry. “You’re flying to California? Now wait a damn minute. Why are you holding out on me? Are we even besties anymore? You stayed at his place, and now you are flying to see him. I guess they are right when they say you get good dick, you forget about everything else,” she teases.
“I was going to tell you!” I protest, but she just smirks in a way that tells me I’m hopeless.
“But seriously, the dick must be good.”
“I mean, the dick isgreat.” There is no point in denying it. “To bad decisions?” I offer, holding up my glass.
“Babes, going to Cali to get dicked down by a man who writes romance novels that sell millions of copies is the very best kind of bad decision, and I support that.” Demi raises her glass to meet mine. “To finally living a little, getting dick down and doing dickmatized things.”
“Now you ready to hear some bullshit?” I set my glass down. Not trusting myself from flinging the glass across the room while talking about Wimpy fucking William.
“More tea? Please spill,” she responds.
“William asked me out to dinner and wanted to reconcile.”
“The fuck he did?!” Her eyes widen to the size of saucers as she slams her glass down on the coffee table. “Oh, hell no. Tell me you laughed in his face. Or punched him. God, I hope you punched that slimy motherfucker.”
“No punching, but I basically told him to fuck off,” I boast, reaching for the soju bottle again. “But it was weird, Demi. Like, suspiciously timed.”
“You think?” She rolls her eyes dramatically. “The man ignores you for a year, then suddenly wants to ‘reconcile’ right when you’re finally happy with someone else? Classic William move. Actually, that’s a classic move for any man who knows he fucked over a good woman and doesn’t want her with anyone else. Uh, men are fucking annoying.”
“He said something about Aaron that’s been stuck in my head, though.”
“What did that asshole say?” Her lips turn up in disgust. She’s never liked William, not even when we were together.
“He said that Aaron is just sampling from the buffet—you know, men who write about love for a living can’t help but taste all the options. That he’s just passing through, that I’m flavor of the month.”
Demi flops back against the cushions, glaring at the ceiling as if she can curse William from afar. “He’s projecting. That’s somenext-level projection.” She points a ring-adorned finger at me. “And you know it.”
“Do I, though?” I swallow, and the soju stings all the way down. “I know what he’s shown me. But for all I actually know, he could be FaceTiming three other women every night. Or, I don’t know, keeping something from me. That’s the baggage William left me with.”
Demi rolls her eyes. “Look, I get it. If I’d had to fuck the same guy for four years just for him to cheat on me, I’d have trust issues too.” She leans over and grabs my hand, squeezing it. “But my psychic senses… It says your man is not playing games. Never met Aaron in person, but his energy is… puppy dog, not wolf. But then again, he could be an animal in bed.” She winks.
“Puppy dogs still chew your shoes and shit on the carpet.” I give her a pointed look. “Aaron is so persistent, sometimes I wonder if it’s real, or just… his thing.”
Demi looks at me, unusually serious. “Does he make you happy?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “It freaks me out how happy, honestly.”
“Then do you. And if he turns out to be a fuckboy in a nice blazer, I have a greenhouse where we can hide his body. Even though he is one of my favorite romance authors… I will kill him for you.” She grins. “But you have to let yourself be happy, Babes.”
I take another gulp. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not, but you’re allowed to be, and if you don’t, I’ll find a way to make you.” She stretches her arms over her head. “Now, can wepleasebinge some trashy TV and not talk about William anymore? I can already feel my ancestors turning in their graves just from saying his name so many times. It’s like saying ‘Candyman’ three times in the mirror and instead of a Black man it’s a White one with a hideous bow tie and a small dick.” She shudders, reaching for the remote.
We startLove Behind the Headlines, and by the third episode, we’re both deep into the wine and soju, screaming at the screen whenever someone makes a terrible decision (so, every five minutes).
My phone vibrates on the coffee table, and Demi lunges for it before I can react.
“Aaron,” she reads, her voice taking on a theatrical tone. “Just met a reader who named her cat after my main character fromThe Forbidden Boss. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or concerned. He should be very concerned.” Then, she gets quiet for a few seconds. “Hold up, girl. Wait, wheredidhe spit?”
I lunge for my phone, but Demi holds it out of reach, scrolling through our conversation, eyes wide.
“Ooooooooooh, that’s where he spits—wait and there too? You’re a freak, and his sexting is very detailed. Freaky, I likey.”
