Shit.
As vehemently as I’d swiped left on his profile a week ago, I can’t deny the fact that he keeps popping up in my mind. Sarah was kind of right. In a way, Graham is perfect. I know him, I trust him, and he’s … hot. And it’s not like I’venevernoticed that he’s attractive before, but somehow, after seeing that picture of him, that’s all I can think about now.
And, from what I know about Graham, he’s exactly the hookup type. And that’s exactly what I want. A hookup. Or maybe a few. I don’t know. All Idoknow is that I’m less interested in a boyfriend and more interested in simply having sex so I can write about sex.
And then eventually go on and find a different relationship in which I can have normal sex in.
It all makes perfect sense to me.
And frustratingly, Graham would fit in perfectly.
I take a deep breath, a strange kind of certainty settling within me. There’s only one problem. First, I have to apologize.
I knock on the door to Harrison and Graham’s apartment, the nerves in my stomach dancing like deranged butterflies. But I’m already here, and it’s too late to back out now.
The front door swings open, and Graham stands there in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Surprise skitters across his face, then settles into something neutral.
“Harrison isn’t here,” he starts.
“I know,” I reply. He’s on a date. While Harrison wouldn’t normally share the ins and outs of his dating life with me, I did manage to grab this snippet of information when asking when his truck would be ready. While he didn’t have an answer for that, he did assure me that he’d be seeing the receptionist tonight. It’s why I chose tonight to talk with Graham.
Graham’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, and he opens his mouth, but I beat him to it.
“I’m here to see you.”
He blinks, once, twice, then steps aside, ushering me in. “Sure …” he says, closing the door behind me. “What’s up?”
“About the other day …” I start.
Understanding washes over him. “Yeah, Dee, if I did anything to upset you, I’m sorry—”
“No,” I cut him off. “I’msorry. I was dealing with ... with other things, and I took it out on you.”
He smiles softly, but there’s still concern laced in his deep blue eyes. “You okay? I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to …” He tucks his hands into the pockets of his sweats, and my eye catches on the flexing of his forearm, my pulse kicking up a notch.
Okay, here it is. Now’s the time.
And suddenly, I freeze.
I could simply apologize, leave, and go on about my life. I could abandon the plan here. Graham would never have to know I found him attractive, we’d never have sex, maybe I’dnever have sex with anyone, but at least I’d save myself the embarrassment.
Then again, my future—in so many aspects—could depend on this. A good book that pays my bills. A normal sex life. The ability to go out into the world and date normally, find a guy, fall in love, get married.
“Delilah?”
I blink, zeroing back in on Graham. He stands a bit closer than I remember, eyebrows scrunched together, peering at me like I’m a puzzle he needs to solve. “Are you okay? Is something going on?”
“Oh, no—everything’s fine,” I assure him. “I just … I have … a question for you.”
His confusion seems to deepen, and he cocks his head. God, it only makes him look hotter. Standing there in those gray sweatpants, wearing a t-shirt that clings to his muscles in a way that’s practically obscene. How did I nevernoticeGraham before? When did he go from my brother’s annoying best friend tothis?
“A question?” he repeats.
I nod. “Yeah, a … favor?” Ick. I don’t like. A favor? Ew. But, that’s kind of what it is, right?
He raises an eyebrow. “Shoot.”
Okay, Delilah, it’s now or never. Ask him.
