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CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
London
What a lying bitch.
“Fuck her,” I mutter.
“Trouble in paradise?” Scott asks, leaning against the side of my truck, parked in the dark lot of the diner.
“I asked her, and she admitted it. What else is she lying about?”
“Maybe you’re better off without her.” He shrugs, getting into my truck.
“That’s the problem. I love her. I love Shane and Afton, but they sided with her.”
“I’m here for you. How about we go get a beer and you can lay it all out on me,” he suggests.
“Yeah, Shane told me not to come home, anyways,” I mutter.
“What a dick,” Scott mumbles.
“Yeah, he’s probably in bed with Afton and Snow right now—without me,” I grumble with a hiss.
“Forget about them for now,” he says as I get situated in my truck. I drive to Beau’s because I know he’s still open. It’s a five-second drive down the road from where the carnival is. You can see Beau’s from the makeshift parking lot of the carnival.
“Get a booth in the corner,” Scott says. “I’ll get the beers.”
“Okay.” I slink to the corner and slump down in the booth.
“Here.” Scott hands me a beer and I take a long sip.
“Thanks, sorry to unload on you.”
“It’s all right,” he says. “I seem to remember I did the same thing on our date.”
“Oh, that’s right. It was about some girl.” I remember now.
“Yeah, she was a bitch. Wouldn’t listen, was rude to me. I thought she loved me, but I think it was just the thought of the money I could be making.”
“I’m sorry, Scott,” I tell him honestly.
“I’m fine now,” he replies with a shrug, peeling the paper off his beer bottle.
We sit in silence for a few beats until I feel his hand on my leg.
“Scott…”
“I see how hard you are and it’s not sex, just a blow job. Let me help you out here.” He slips under the booth, lowers my zipper, and the next thing I know, his mouth is on my cock.
And I just sit back and enjoy it, imagining it’s someone else.
