Page 70 of Slow Burn

He paced a bit in his living room, waiting for her to respond. To his fucking relief, she called.

“How much ransom is she asking for?” Elijah joked with Georgia when he answered, which made her giggle.

“Apparently, me hanging out with you is a good enough excuse to get me out of being a wing-woman.”

That was exactly why Elijah didn’t want her to be at the bar without him.

They were friends, and she’d make a horrible wing-woman.

“Is the excuse an actual invite?” Georgia asked as he heard the sound of her door slamming shut.

Hell yes, Elijah grinned. His peach was coming over.

“I’d hate to see the wrath of Sophie if she finds out we were lying.”

“She can be scary. Hold on, my phone’s going to switch to Bluetooth,” she told him while the phone reconnected in her car. “When we were in middle school, Nash promised to take us to the mall, but instead, he brought a girl over and locked himself away in his room. Sophie toilet papered his car.”

Damn, Sophie was a bit scary even when she was thirteen.

“Is that what started their hatred toward each other?”

“Nope. Sophie never liked him, but his loathing started later,” she confided in him. “But it’s safe to say they do not like each other.”

“Or it’s the longest game of foreplay.”

“Gross. Also, I’m out front.”

Elijah opened the door, and Georgia stood in front of him, both of them still on their phones. Her hair was down and wavy, and she wore no makeup. She was perfect.

“It’s not gross if they want to fuck each other.” He taunted her, but it felt more like he was talking about the two of them, not Sophie and Nash.

Georgia shook her head, sticking her tongue out, and hung up on him before she pushed herself inside.

Elijah shut and locked his door before he went into the kitchen, where she stood in front of the open refrigerator. He checked her out in her white shorts that hugged her round ass. She was wearing a lacy black top over a black camisole.

Turning to face him, she held up a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. “Want a glass of wine?”

“Why are you dressed up if you didn’t want to go to the bar?” Elijah moved to the cabinet where the wineglasses were. He grabbed two, then put them on the island.

Georgia yanked the cork off and filled the glasses to the rim.

“I didn’t want Sophie to go out alone,” she admitted. “Sloane was up to going out though, so it wasn’t a big deal if I bailed.”

“And here I thought it was a hostage situation.”

Georgia sipped her wine. “Will it make you feel better if I said you saved the day?”

They moved in tandem into the living room to sit on the couch.

“Maybe.”

As dramatic as ever, Georgia’s head flailed back to hit the couch cushion, and her hand rested over her forehead. “Elijah, you saved me from a night of a sticky bar floor, cheap drinks, and loud music. How can I repay you?”

A few things popped into his mind, but none of them were friendly. And this week, they managed to do that: be friendly with each other. Maybe that was all she wanted. It wasn’t like he wanted a relationship.

The only option was to eliminate fucking her, no matter how badly he wanted to sink into her sweet cunt again.

He took a mouthful of wine and swallowed. “You can be my friend.”