“Fine. I’ll take the suite.”
After I relinquish my credit card number and my firstborn child, Lucy chimes in with a chipper, “We look forward to your visit, Mr. Foley.”
“I’m sure you do, Lucy. It’ll be great.”
Now I get to figure out how to tell Jocelyn we’re sharing a hotel suite after I mauled her yesterday. Foresee a painfully awkward conversation in my future.
Hey, Joss. I know you’re appalled that I kissed you, but hey! How’d you like to spend three days in very cramped quarters with minimal privacy? Oh, you despise that idea? Sure, I’ll go fuck myself.
Just the teensiest bit scared how she’ll react. Maybe I can sneak it in through text to minimize the fallout.
Can’t believe I kissed her. What the hell was I thinking?
I had her under me. Her skin against my hands. Her mouth pressed to mine. Can’t unfeel that. Untaste it.
Would have been better to never know. Ignorance is bliss.
Trust Jocelyn to serve up the best kiss of my life, then instantly follow it up withI changed my mind. Can’t take a chance on you. Sorry! You can’t be weird about it though. BFFs?
But that isn’t the worst part.
The worst part is that I’m falling for her. Like the biggest idiot to ever idiot.
Before that kiss, I was so used to being out of sync. Didn’t even realize my rhythm was off. Kissing her was like that feeling when your ear’s been clogged for days, and it finally pops. It was that release of pressure when you extract that thing from between your teeth. It was the satisfying pop of a joint, one that restores full range of motion.
Somehow, Jocelyn Mattox has reset the rhythm of myentire life. In her, I found harmony, and she won’t even listen to the goddamn music.
Casual is just all I’m capable of.
Such lies.
She’s capable of so much more. Just not with me, I guess. If she can’t have me casually, she doesn’t want me at all. Sounds about right. Did all the women in the world have a meeting or something? Reach some sort of consensus?
Periods suck.
Female beauty standards are unattainable.
Asher Foley equals casual.
Wish I could get a second opinion on that last one, but the universe seems pretty dead set on it.
My phone buzzes in my hand.
“Hey, Mom,” I say after switching it to speakerphone.
“Did you forget to tell me something?”
I freeze. Shit. Did I forget a birthday? Mother’s Day? Her anniversary? “Uh—”
“Why are thereengagement picturesof you all over the internet?”
Oh.
Oh, no.
This is what my life has become. Timelapse destruction. A line of cascading dominoes heading straight for a cliff.
My mother has seen the photos.
