Okay. I was sweating. Blatant,blatantflirting.
If he didn’t say something one hundred percent flirtatious right back, after his “one sec,” I was going to backpedal the hell out of here and call it anight.
The minutes.Ticked.By.
One sec,myass.
I put the phone down and tried to get into a video about how to cut an onion without crying. Because that was a handy thing to know. I was planning to make Roni nachos and margaritas tomorrow night, to thank her for letting me stay with her longer than expected, saving me from booking myself into a lonely hotel room or crashing with the horny honeymooners over at my brother’splace.
After that, I pulled up a vid on how to make a killer strawberrymargarita.
After that, I started thinking about Brody in his skimpy black briefs—not that I’d really stopped—and my hand found its way between my legs. Just kind of rubbing the crotch of my sweatpants, but still. If he was going to leave me hanging, again, I was prepared to take matters into myownhand.
Things were just starting to get good when finally, fuckingfinallymy phonebuzzed.
Brody:Sorry had to takeacall.
Me:Cool
Brody:Zane says there’s a party at my place tomorrownight.
Me:SoundslikeZane.
Brody:Yeah have to prepare. Stock the bar. Make sure smoke alarms are working.Youknow.
Stock the bar?A little shiver of horror ranthroughme.
Zane was a recovered alcoholic. Hedidn’tmean…?
Me:Zane’s notdrinking???
Brody:He’s not drinking. Everyone elsewillbe.
Oh.Right.
Of course. Even if Zane was drinking, Brody wouldn’t be stocking booze for him. He’d be checking him into rehab,likestat.
ButJesus. Scare agirlmuch?
My hand was nowhere near my crotchanymore.
The whole idea of Zane falling off the wagon, or even the mention of Zane himself, a dude who was like a brother to me, was enough to killthebuzz.
Brody:Youcoming?
Um, no. I definitely wasn’t cominganytimesoon.
Me:?
Brody:To theparty.
Did I want to go to theparty?
Yeah, Ikindadid.
Especially if Brody wasinvitingme.
Me:ShouldI?
