Page 9 of Make Me Laugh

This is really bad news for me. Especially when he’s looking at me the way he is.

Like he’d make sure I enjoy every single second of it…

I mask my features into neutrality. I will not let this man make me part of his show. “You’re not getting my at, Hotshot.”

He sticks his bottom lip out, giving one of the best puppy-dog pouts I’ve ever seen.

“Run along and go bother someone else.” I nod towards the front row, shooing him with a few flicks of my wrist.

He shifts, and I get a whiff of his cologne. It’s warm and smooth. I inhale, intoxicated by the smell of a campfire and something sweet. “Oh, but I so like bothering you.”

Why is his voice so fucking deep, and did someone turn the heat on? I’m about to look like a glazed donut if he doesn’t turn his undivided attention to someone else.

Frankie extends her arm between us, and West plops his phone into her hand without looking away from me.

“Wanna know the first thing I thought when I saw you?” he asks me directly, the fans in attendance deciding to answer with a resounding yes for me.

West waits for my response.

“I'm sure it was something sexual. That’s what you think is funny, right? Sex jokes?” I raise a brow and uncross my legs, my calf grazing his inner thigh for the briefest second.

West’s jaw twitches, and I’m not sure if it’s from my leg brushing against him or my rebuttal. Maybe both? “That was the second thing I thought, I’ll admit, but no. I thought you looked a lot like my future wife.”

My jaw unhinges for the second time tonight as the crowd loses it. Men howl like they’re rooting for a friend and girls near me gasp like they wish they were me.

Frankie hands his phone back, and that’s when West finally draws his attention away from me. Only to return it back to the screen where he’s met with an identity almost no one knows I’m behind…

The light of his phone reflects against his face in the dimly lit room, colors and the sounds changing as he scrolls.

I can’t read the look on his face, and that freaks me the fuck out.

I was expecting his jaw to drop—shit, like mine still is right now.

I snap it shut, and as if the sound of my teeth clacking together reminds West where he is, his gaze falls back to me in real time. “Joey,” he coos, hitting his thumb on the side of his phone to lock the screen. “You dirty, dirty girl.”

There are five people who know Hex’s identity.

Frankie.

Frankie’s mom.

Frankie’s hot lesbian guitarist friend, Syn.

Hilda.

And now, West fucking Parker.

He returns his phone to his back pocket, gives me a wink that feels personal, and returns to the stage. I glance over at Frankie who’s grinning ear to ear.

I don’t remember much else about the show, only that he looks me dead in the eyes before it’s over and nods his head—as if to say, I’ll see you later, Joey baby.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE ONE WHERE HE SHARES HIS LOCATION

Comment: Anyone see @WestParkerComedy’s show tonight in Boston? That girl was HOT!!!!!

Comment reply: Someone bring me back to this when we find out who she is!