Page 145 of Wait for Him

I stare at her.

"The Jackson Five?"

"Yes, I'm glad you asked." She settles against the arm of the chair, delighted to have an audience again. "Apparently the Jackson Five is your minimum orgasm gift to women, which you were adamant last night is a real thing. You said, and I quote, Trust me, bro. Then Bennet gave you water and Tylenol and told me not to talk to you anymore."

I close my eyes.

Nothing.

Not one helpful fucking memory.

"Where are my pants?"

"You threw them, and your underpants, at Bennet when he dared question your ability to perform said Jackson Five. You wanted to, and again I quote, set the motherfucking record straight on the type of equipment you're working with."

She takes another peaceful sip of coffee while I consider whether it's possible to resign from my own life.

"I found the whole thing hilarious. Bennet did not take kindly to you flashing your junk around his wife, so now he's Angry Bennet, and I love Angry Bennet. Thank you. Thank youuuuuu." She howls up at the ceiling.

"Blaire!" Bennet's voice rings out from somewhere deeper in the apartment, and my skull answers with a vicious throb. "Don't fucking talk to him. Jackson, get your ass out of my house, motherfucker. What is wrong with you?"

I find my pants on the other side of the coffee table and reach for them without sacrificing the blanket. "I'm sorry. Fuck, I don't know what I was doing last night."

"Don't be mean, Bennet. He's a sad boy. Be nice to your friends."

Bennet appears in the doorway looking every bit as pissed off as advertised.

"Blaire, I swear to fuck—"

Her entire face lights up. "Are you getting angry, baby?"

Jesus Christ.

I do not need to know where this goes.

"For fuck's sake, I'm leaving." I attempt to maneuver into my pants beneath the blanket with what little dignity remains available to me.

Bennet watches this operation with his arms crossed.

Blaire catches him looking.

"Why are you trying to peek at his junk?"

"I'm not trying to look at his fucking—"

Her laugh follows her toward the door. "It's been fun, boys. Have a good day."

She shoots Bennet a wink on her way out, and the expression that crosses his face tells me she has just made his morning significantly worse and probably her evening significantly better.

Then I'm alone with my fuming best friend.

I finally get my pants on and stand. "I meant no disrespect. You know I don't see Blaire that way."

His glare doesn't move.

I can't help myself.

"Now you, on the other hand..."