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JD
I did not.
I was only appreciating her figure and considering which qualities made her fit for procreative purposes.
But she is pretty hot, isn’t she?
DON’T ANSWER THAT.
Blake
Why does every conversation we have come back to your wife’s boobs? And what happened to respecting her dignity?
JD
You can be complimentary without being crude. It’s all about intention.
And I’ve given you a solid game plan:
1. Keep your arms, hands, and tongue to yourself at all times. (Basically, all appendages.)
2. Figure out how she wants you to show interest and affection.
3. Be yourself. Lean on your best qualities.
(I think Lo likes your intelligence most, btw. She probably appreciates that you’re sharp enough to keep up with her, because I don’t know anyone else who is.)
4. Treat her sexuality as a gift, preferably one that isn’t meant to be (re)opened until the right time.
5. And if all that fails, take off your shirt and flirt with her best friend in front of her.
Wait, hold on … that last one’s not going to work so well.
Blake
Yeah, yeah. I’ve got it, thanks.
JD
Good luck, bro. Keep me posted. *saluting face emoji*
I sigh and put my phone away again, ambling back to our table, only to find Loren missing.
“You snooze, you lose, Blake,” Mark tells me, gesturing to the dance floor, where Loren is waltzing around with old Mr. Donald. Her eyes meet mine, and she wiggles her eyebrows, making me laugh. Then I march over to cut in.
CHAPTER 20
Loren
I bitemy lip nervously and watch as Blake and a strange woman walk hand in hand out to the dance floor. She adjusts her sash and tiara before sliding her arms over Blake’s shoulders, and I feel my nostrils flaring.
Blake reaches up to clasp one of her hands in his, putting some distance between them and making me smile. He’d done the opposite each time we danced together tonight. In fact, he’d just gotten done guiding my arms so that my wrists crossed behind his neck and resting his own hands much lower on my back than proper when the emcee interrupted us by calling out his name.
Despite being crowned King of the Krewe des Pas Bon Mardi Gras Ball tonight, he’d kept to his word, giving me his full attention any time he wasn’t busy being politely charming. And although I certainly wasn’t shocked he was voted prom king, again, I was a little floored by the extensive list of accolades and community service activities that accompanied the announcement. It sounds like most of his good deeds stem from his pro-bono work with kids and the various fundraisers he coordinates alongside his brother as assistant football coach at Camellia High, a job I hadn’t realized he’s been doing on a purely voluntary basis for the past few years. Not that I imagine it pays much, anyway.
To say this man continues to surprise me would be an understatement.
I watch Blake and the queen as they spin and sway around the dance floor, doing my best to keep my jealousy in check. But then she steps closer, and their movements slow as she leans in to whisper something near his ear, lingering and resting her cheek against his before she backs away.
