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They just refused to see it.
And I? I had no problem warming my heart with cardio and the musky sheets of a man.
In fact, I’d long suspected I had the exact opposite problem that Zach did. I craved the feel of another person’s skin on mine. Took my pleasure in hookups and didn’t look back.
Relationships were high-stakes. Risky.
Sex was simple. Instant gratification.
And Zach was a god among men. I was at no risk of falling in love with the broody, patronizing billionaire sitting atop an ivory tower.
I produced my phone from my duffel bag, skimming through my best friend’s texts.
Ari:
I can’t believe we won’t celebrate your birthday together.
Farrow:
Me, either.
Farrow:
You’re my favorite person in the whole world right now.
Farrow:
(Not to sound like a stage-five clinger or anything.)
Ari:
More than Keanu Reeves?
Farrow:
Yes.
Ari:
More than Taylor Swift?
Farrow:
Yes.
Ari:
More than Madonna?
Farrow:
Hey, don’t push it.
She’s the queen of pop.
Ari:
Merp.
