“What reasons?” she prods.
“People lie, Sully. That’s why.” I take another sip.
“So you just walk around, never trusting anyone? How’s that working for you?” She tilts her head to the side, crossing her arms.
I shrug. “Works pretty great, I’ve never been stood up.”
She scoffs. “You’re an ass. You’re supposed to feel sorry for me, and maybe trash talk her a little.”
“She’s a bitch?” I try.
“Too much.”
“You can do better?”
Iggy clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes, and I turn to Seth.
“Some help here, maybe?”
He chuckles, scratching his chin. “I don’t know," he shrugs. "Dating’s not really my forte.”
Iggy groans and drops her head against the counter again. “Stupid boys.”
Taco and beer turned into drinks turned into shots. Iggy’s hammered. She’s a stubborn little creature and thought she could keep up with me and Seth who’re both a foot taller, and got at least a hundred pounds on her.
One minute, she’s blabbering about how dating’s gone from worse to absolute shit since COVID hit, and when I get back from the bathroom, Seth’s placing a blanket over her on the couch, where she’s already snoring.
I snort, shaking my head and Seth turns around, mirroring my headshake with a smile. He nods at his bedroom, and I turn back around.
We brush our teeth in silence, swaying a little on our feet. Thank fuck I don’t have any customers until late afternoon tomorrow because I’ll definitely wake up feeling like shit.
“Wait here,” Seth says, leaving me in his bedroom. I grab the neck of my shirt, and pull it over my head, almost losing my balance for a second. I’ve just placed my pants on the footboard bench when Seth comes back, holding two water bottles.
“Here,” he says, handing me one.
“Thanks.” I drink half in one go.
He shakes his head, screwing the cap back on all while staring at me. Eyes roaming all over my body. “Ridiculous,” he mumbles.
“What?”
He pulls his own tee over his head, throwing it next to mine. “Your body.”
I snort. “My body’s ridiculous?”
“I mean,” he says, gesturing vaguely at me. “You look like a Greek god, or whatever. How’s that even fair?”
I scoff. “You wanna talk fair? You haven’t worked out a day in your life, but you’ve got abs?” I wave at him.
“I don’t have abs. I’m just skinny,” he says, shaking his head as he kicks off his pants.
I let my eyes wander all over him. He’s smaller than me, but more like slim and toned than skinny. His arms are defined, along with his pecs, and, yes, fucking abs. Maybe not a full six-pack like me, but still. “Bullshit. You’re fucking lean.”
He shakes his head, huffing a laugh. “I’m skinny. And apparently short.” He shoots me a look, one eyebrow raised as he climbs into bed.
I snort. “Shorter. Than me. Six feet isn’t short, asshole.”
I climb in on the other side of the bed, pulling the duvet up to my waist, and sink down on the pillow, arms behind my head. His bed is so much better than mine—king size, dark brownish headboard, fluffy white pillows and dark grey duvet that I could live in. His whole apartment is better than mine. It’s cozy and homey in a way I’ve never gotten mine, no matter how much Tara tried to fix it.
