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“Like that, huh?”
“Yeah, like that. You forget this is home for me and I’ve got a house call to make. Besides, one of us needs to get laid.”
I give him the finger and glance down at my phone.
Lance: How would you know? It’s been a while since you’ve seen my dick move.
Harper: Har, har, still Shakespeare, I see. And that’s not what I asked. Why did you bolt?
Lance: I told you I had a match. And I got my ass kicked. I don’t look pretty.
Harper: That’s karma. What time are you coming in the morning?
Lance: In the morning.
Harper: You are such a pain in the ass.
Lance: Admit you missed me.
Harper: Rolling eyes emoji.
Harper
“Holy shit!”
“I texted you it wasn’t pretty.”
“You look like a pug dog.”
“Thanks, and you look beautiful.” Heart soaring from his compliment, I tug him into my kitchen to inspect his eye. Much like yesterday, he looks gorgeous, aside from the side of his face that looks mangled. It’s a little grotesque. There’s a cut above his eye, and his nose is a bit swollen. I order him up on the counter, and he hoists himself up easily, his biceps flexing under another form-fitting sweater. I pull one of my ice packs from the fridge and press it against his bruised skin. “Does it hurt?” I lift the pack and press on the area, testing to see if there’s fluid behind it.
“Yes, because you’re fucking with it.”
I jerk my hand away. “Sorry. What does the other guy look like?”
“Hot, he’s about six-one, two-thirty, mocha skin. It was a nice date. How was yours?”
“We didn’t make it to dinner.” Casey knew after laying eyes on Lance that he was the one I’d been waiting for. He’d said as much after I hesitated to accept his dinner offer before he bowed out.
“Shame. Are you upset about it?”
“No, he knows I’m not in the right place for commitment.”
I pause because I can feel his body tense with my statement.
“And anyway, you took care of the rest with your lewd shit. Thanks for that. I had to spend five minutes explaining why I Snapchatted your ass to my father.”
“Sorry,” he smirks. “It slipped.”
“Sure, it did. I can’t believe you told him we did the horizontal hustle.”
He tosses his head back and laughs. “You dork. Who says that?”
“Nana and I don’t like saying…”
He quirks a thick brow. “Saying…?”
“You know,” I say softly.
