“Aaaand there it is,” Lola says with a snort. “What a little bitch.”
My fingers twitch as I hold myself back from responding to Ryland. Of course, he’s contacting me because he saw photos of me and Sebastian. It’s probably killing him. After all, one of the reasons I think he dated me was to be seen. And while that never happened for him, here I am being photographed with a hockey player and getting all of that attention Ryland so badly wanted.
I’ll text him back in a day or two. He can sweat it out and wait.
“I hate that guy,” Lola says.
“He’s the worst,” I agree.
“He is. He’s not even worthy of washing Sebastian’s disgustingly smelly hockey uniform.” Lola shakes her head. “And that stuff reeks.”
Throwing back my head, I laugh. It releases some of the tension that crept in after watching Bash field those questions about our relationship. Leave it to Lola to break me out of an impending funk.
“I love you,” I tell her.
“Love you more.” She rests her head on my shoulder. “Always and forever.”
“Always and forever,” I agree.
I hope Bash and I can say the same thing before all of this attention has a chance to tear us apart.
thirty-nine
INDIGO
I’ve been holedup in our rental while Bash is on the road, but I’m going stir-crazy and my word counts have suffered.
I need a change of scenery.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Lola asks, her brow furrowed in an uncharacteristically serious expression.
“Nah, I’ll be fine. It’s just a coffee shop. And it’s not like there have been any paparazzi camped out outside of our rental or anything. I think I was worried about nothing. This isn’t LA.” Shoving my laptop and notebook into my backpack, I get ready to leave for the coffee shop. I need to get some writing done, and for whatever reason, I’ve been most productive there. And if it’s working, I won’t change my routine because a few people on the internet are interested in my relationship.
“Okay, well, call me if you need me. I still think you should take the car, but if you run into issues, I’ll come pick you up.”
“It’s too nice to drive,” I tell her, pulling her into a hug before slinging the bag onto my back. “Seriously, it’ll be fine. And I needto distract myself while Bash is in the air. Knowing I get to see him later has me antsy.”
“A few days without the dick, and you’re losing your damned mind. He has you dicknotized.” Finally, Lola’s frown morphs into an amused smile. “I mean, I don’t get it, but if it makes you happy.”
“You’re ridiculous and I love you. And I am not dicknotized.”
“You are, but it’s fine if you’re in denial.”
I laugh at the way she waggles her eyebrows at me. Honestly, she’s not wrong. I am more than a little obsessed with Sebastian, and I’m a pretty big fan of his dick. I don’t know many people attracted to men who wouldn’t be, if they were given a chance to experience the glory that is Sebastian Navarro in bed.
“Be careful,” Lola says. “Promise you’ll call if you need me.”
“I won’t need you. Now stop worrying and go get some work done. See you later.” I slip out the door before she can try to talk me out of it again.
The early summer sun kisses my skin as I begin my walk through the neighborhood, the humidity a hug. A slightly uncomfortable one, but a hug nonetheless. My mind wanders as the dappled sunlight on the sidewalk creates a hypnotic effect, and my thoughts are split between the small-town romance I’m working on and Sebastian.
I think about him a lot these days. And it’s worse when he’s on the road. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and I suppose that’s true, but if I’m not careful, it also gives me a tummy ache. Logically, I know that distance won’t change anything, but the instinctive part of my brain is always bracing for disappointment.
I’m working on it, but it’s a process.
By the time I make it to The Bean House, I’ve gotten my anxiety under control and pushed my sexy boyfriend from my thoughts in favor of my characters and the book I’m so close tofinishing. We’re at the part I love: when the couple is deeply in love, but the world is about to throw them a curveball.
I’m not sure if it’s an author thing or anI’ve-been-hurt-too-many-timesthing, but some sadistic part of me really enjoys making the shit hit the fan.
