Page 72 of I Choose You

“No, you don’t. Those shoes did what they’re supposed to do.” She shot me a side-eye.

“Give me plantar fasciitis?”

“Small price to pay for visiting rights to his big beautiful dick, isn’t it?”

The girl painting her toenails cracked up so loud she swore she’d pee.

After we paid and tipped the girls, we headed to the only place Rena would allow someone to wax her. She was particular about it. I guessed I couldn’t judge that. If someone was trusted near my pussy with a promise of pain in a totally nonsexual way, I’d be choosy too. We could have spent all day at the first salon and had all these things done at once. Rena liked to pick and choose, though, so we’d gone from one establishment to the next.

“You’re putting your nails on the wardrobe account, aren’t you?” She flipped a lock of my hair, teasing me. “It’s part of the look.”

I shrugged. I’d spent my money on it, and it wasn’t too bad of a splurge since I had an expired coupon I sweet-talked the girl at the checkout into using.

Her mention of the wardrobe account soured my mood. A reminder that Kaden was paying for anything just didn’t feel right after our romp in the garden. I was the one who’d initiated it, but still. I’d complicated it all now.

Rena, of course, picked up on my mood. “So, what are your intentions with him now?”

I slumped into a seat in the waiting room of her tried and tested waxing salon. Shaking my head, I tried to hedge my answer. But this was Rena. Pretty soon, she’d be Contiki-ing and I wouldn’t have my best friend to count on for advice or a listening ear.

“I don’t have any intentions.”

Rena plopped her feet on the coffee table, waving at the check-in girl. “No intentions at all?”

I crossed my arms, staring dubiously at the informational posters near the potted plant in a corner. I skimmed the instructions and advice, as well as what to expect. It all sounded so violent. I squeezed my legs together. “I had fun with him.”

“Of course you did,” Rena teased.

“Before that, though. Just being his date.”

She was quick to lean close and correct me. “Fake date.”

I winced. “And after the garden, too. He’s not just a big beautiful dick,” I said.

Another woman waiting in the room glanced up from her magazine and raised her brows at me.

“Not my words,” I told her, pointing at Rena. “Hers.”

Rena leaned forward to speak around me. “But her dick. Not mine.”

The woman’s brows shot higher.

“Not mine but—” I groaned and shook my head. I turned to face Rena only and ignore this other woman. “He’s not just good for sex.”

“But he can be.”

I shook my head. “No. I can’t do this.”

“What, see him anymore?”

“I’m not seeing him. It’s fake.”

She nodded. “Right. So that’s out of the way. No feelings need to get messy. Just use him for sex.”

Use? That word sounded all kinds of wrong in this context.

“I’m hoping there will be a cute guy in my tour group so I can do the same.” She winked.

We didn’t chat again, and I killed the time reading the informational poster.