I roll my eyes. “Okay, calm down.” I snatch the phone from her hand, staring down at the photo. Graham Whitaker has a Tinder profile. I mean, of course he has Tinder. Why wouldn’t he? Jesus, he does look hot in this photo. Cowboy hat over his dark, wavy hair, shirtless for some goddamn reason—abs for days. Like,days.
Graham Whitaker has no business looking this good.
And I have no business wanting to swipe right.
“Who is he?” Sarah presses.
“My brother’s best friend from childhood.”
“Ooooh.”
“I can’t swipe right onGraham,” I say, even as I swipe through his photos and wish I could.
“Why not?” Sarah has a mischievous smile on her face. “You know him. He’s not a serial killer or anything, right?”
“No, of course not.” I bite my lip. I mean, Sarah does have a point. I trust Graham. He’s been in my life since I was a kid, even if a bit peripherally.
But I can’t have sex with Graham.
Right?
“You want to swipe right,” Sarah says, her smirk widening.
Fuck, okay, this isn’t good. “I can’t have sex with my brother’s best friend,” I say evenly. Especially considering the last time I saw him, I … melted down? Made a complete fool of myself? I want to bang my head against a wall just thinking about it. I’ve been doing everything in my powernotto think about it.
I was in my head, stressed out about the stupid book, about my stupid lack of experience, and then somehow Graham and I’d gotten on the topic of dating, and that brought up a bunch of shit. And then calling me akid?
It felt way too fucking true.
And then I’d acted like one.
I’d been too embarrassed to even come out of my room and say goodbye to him after he set up my TV. And hefinished setting up my TV. Like a literal saint.
I definitely owe him an apology. And sex with me is certainly the furthest thing from his mine.
With a sigh, I take one last look at Graham’s stupidly hot photo before swiping left. “He’s off-limits.”
Sarah just levels me with a pursed-lipped look. “Sure.”
Chapter six
Delilah
Great first section. You’ve nailed the voice. Only note is to up the spice. Longer scenes, a bit more detail. Based on the author’s past books, readers will be expecting more.
I stare at the email from Jessica, a knot in my stomach. I’d finally forced out the first sex scene. First. As in the first of more to come. And while the email is mostly positive, it does highlight my biggest fear.
The first sex scene I’ve ever written is complete crap.
Well, maybe notcrap. But not acceptable.Up the spice. While I know what she means, I have no idea how to actually do it.
I rub my temples, groaning quietly while Pickles rubs against my calf. I reach down to give him a scratch behind the ears. “How am I going to do this, Pickles?” I ask, but he only purrs then saunters off.
I purse my lips, sitting back in my chair.
It’s been a week since I made a Tinder account, and while I’ve gotten matches, I’ve been too chicken to respond to any of them. Besides, I haven’t exactly been blown away by any of the guys. I mean, sure, they’ve all seemed decently cute, mildly interesting, but nothing like …
An image of Graham’s Tinder profile flashes through my head—hot, shirtless, and about as fuckable as a guy comes.
