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"Isn't it?"
"You're emotionally attached."
"I don't even know her name."
"Still. Don't you think Imogen should know you have feelings for another woman?"
I don't have feelings for her. But that's bullshit. I do. "No. It's the same thing."
"That's just sex."
"Yeah, and your boyfriend is a man. He'd want to know."
She shakes her headno way.
I nodyes way. Though I don't have the confidence I normally do. I don't like the idea of Imogen reading some guy's online journal, falling in love with him through his words. I hate it. "We're not serious. It doesn't matter. But I appreciate you looking out for her."
She shoots me an incredulous look. "You do like her?"
"Don't spread the news," I say. "She's been clear about what she wants."
"Your dick and only your dick?"
"Basically."
"And you're really okay with that?"
"With a fling with a gorgeous woman? Yeah."
She looks at me like she doesn't believe me, but she doesn't call me on it.
My cell buzzes in my hand.
"I have to take this," I say.
"Casual, huh?"
"Phone sex date."
She blushes. "Here?"
"Where else?"
"I'm not listening to you come."
"Then turn up the music."
ChapterTwenty
PATRICK
ABillie Eilish song flows through the bathroom door. It's not my idea of sensual, but it feels right all the same. Besides, I'm not here for me.
I'm here for her.
Imogen: It's not as sexy as it sounds.
She attaches a picture of her, dripping wet, in her practice suit. A shot by a friend, teammate, coach. I don't know, but I adore it, instantly.
