I suck in a breath. It was only yesterday when Sethhimself was telling me he hadn’t found anyone with potential. So either he was lying or he went out and found someonerealquick.
And both of those options suck.
Before I can truly process the strange feelings twisting my gut, my phone beeps with a text.
Speak of the devil.
Seth:I know you can’t really send evidence of your *activities* tonight, but maybe snap a selfie at some point so I know you’re not at home in your pajamas watchingMean Girlsfor the millionth time.
The first genuine smile of the evening tugs on my lips. I’d much rather be at home in my pajamas, and he knows it. Because he knows me.
I open up my camera and check to make sure it’s not super obvious I’m in a bathroom stall before snapping a selfie and sending it off. Then I watch as the three little typing dots appear and fade and appear and fade and appear and fade. Because of course Seth continues to be maddening, even over text.
Finally, my phone beeps.
Seth:Wow. You look gorgeous. Not quite watching-a-movie-in-pajamas gorgeous, but pretty close.
Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?
More blasted bubbles, and then finally another message.
Seth:Be safe tonight, Parker.
Me:I will.
Me:Are you out on a date?
I send the message before I can think about all the reasons why I shouldn’t.
Seth:No, I’m home. Why?
Me:Just saw the photo of you and your #LongTermPotential on IG.
Seth:Oh.
Seth:Well, good luck tonight.
Me:Thanks.
I stare at my screen for a solid three minutes, waiting to see if he has anything more to say to me, anything more than “Oh.” But no messages come through. No blinking dots appear.
And my stomach turns.
Because I want him to say something. I want him to tell me the photo was just for show, that he doesn’t actually have feelings for anyone else. I want him to tell me to fuck all those other guys—figuratively, not literally—and come spend the night with him. I want him to want me. I want him to want to be the one-night stand, just so we can have one more night together.
And in a flash, it comes to me: I don’t know that he doesn’t. At least, not until I ask. Sure, he may have found a woman who he might have long-term potential with, but maybe he’s in need of this closure as much as I am.
I swipe over to my notes app and open my list of assignments from Seth, plus my one small amendment.
Have a one-night stand.
It never said with whom. This isn’t a kiss-a-stranger situation. I can sleep with whomever I want, as long as it’s only for one night.
The only path forward becomes ridiculously clear. For the chance at my dream job, I need to complete this task. I also need closure. And in order to be truly okay with being alone, I need to put Seth firmly in my past.
I take thirty seconds to wash my hands and check my appearance in the mirror before I push through the bathroom door and head straight for the exit. I wait until I’m in the back of my Lyft before I text May, telling her I’m heading out. She responds with an eye-roll emoji.
May:Be safe, you ballsack. This is not the end of this.
