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At that, my so-called friend sits bolt upright in his lounger.
“Are you shitting me? You found her journal? Did you read it?”
I chuckle.
“Hell no, that shit is private.”
He gets a sneaky look on his face.
“Well, get it out because I’ll read it then. How did you even know it was hers?”
I smile grimly.
“Because I opened it to the first page, and her name was inscribed in the front. But no, I’m not letting you read it. If I’m not reading it, then you’re definitely not reading it.”
But Zack is insistent, and with reluctance, I get up and go inside to retrieve the journal. When I come out, the blue-bound volume is in my hands, and I sit down on the lounger before flipping to the first page. The first entry is dated about a year back, and I look over the writing. It’s innocent and charming, basically talking about her day at school. Zoe seems to be a perceptive and intelligent young woman, discussing books that she’s read as well as some antics by her dog.
“What is there?” Jake whines. “Anything good?”
I shrug.
“Nothing really. Just regular girl stuff. About what you’d expect.”
But then I flip to the back for fun, and land upon an entry that stops me dead in my tracks. Holy shit. The shock must be showing on my face because the guys lean forward, their eyes blazing.
“Oh yeah, you found some nasty shit. What is it Dane?” Zack pries.
I am speechless. I turn the book and show them the sketch I happened upon. It’s a sketch of me, from the shoulders up. My expression is serious, my blue eyes fierce.
“Wow, it looks just like you,” Jake marvels.
“Because, dumbfuck, that is him,” snarls Zack. Jake’s eyes go wide.
“Ohhhh right! Well, that’s a talented little lady because that sketch is more accurate than a polaroid. Are there any more?” Jake asks.
I turn the book back around to face me, and flip the page. No way am I letting these jokers rifle through Zoe’s journal and read her innermost thoughts. But then, my fingers pause, and I close the book casually.
“Nah, nothing,” I say. “No more pics of me.”
“No juicy tidbits?” Jake whines. “No secret dreams of hooking up with the great Dane Reston?”
I shake my head.
“Sorry guys, nothing like that. It’s just girly stuff, you know make-up, shopping, and hair. That kind of thing.”
Of course, Zoe isn’t like that at all. She’s beautiful, but she wouldn’t fill the journal with drivel on cosmetics and such. However, I’m not about to tell the guys what I saw because it’s private. On the last page was a sketch of me, but not just any sketch. I was laid out, masculine and nude, looking a bit like an art model. My tattoos were rendered in great detail, and there was a fierce look in my eyes. But it wasn’t my expression that got to me. It was the fact that my cock was erect and the size of a thick, pulsing hammer. I was stroking it, and at the very tip, hot beads of liquid pearled before dripping down the sides.
Holy shit, is this what Zoe sees when she looks at me? Suddenly, I know we’re going to have more than a talk. There’s going to be action because I need the curvy girl, and I need her now.
7
Dane
I’m sitting at work flipping through the latest tattoo magazine, but all I’m thinking about are the pencil sketches I saw last night in Zoe’s diary. It was a stroke of luck finding her blue journal on the deck after the party, but hey, at least it was me who found it, and not some random stranger. Because holy shit: those drawings.
Of course, I feel slightly guilty about invading Zoe’s privacy because she never intended for me to see those images. But still. Now that I’ve glimpsed them, my path forward is clear. I want this woman, and evidently, she wants me too.
I’ve been tossing ideas back and forth in my mind all day about how I’m going to confront her.
Do I tell her that I read it? That I really like those sketches? Or do I just give it back and play dumb? How do I even go about seeing Zoe?
I could show up at her house, but that would be weird. Her parents know me, but I’ve never had cause to go to their home before. I could hang around at my parents’ place and I’d surely see Zoe there in little to no time, but then Patty will be attached at her hip. Goddamn little sisters who are like barnacles.
I wish I could just call Zoe up and tell her I have the diary, but I don’t even have her phone number, and Patty would be super weirded out if I asked for her friend’s number. Plus, I’d have to tell her about the diary, which is a big no-no.
