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She smiles as she walks down the hallway to the living room. “Sign me up! I would fuck your brother so damn good. I mean, given that I was single.”
“Ew. Just no. Don’t ever say that word with my brother in the same sentenceeveragain.” I laugh and lock the door behind us. I swear she says stuff like that just to watch me cringe.
The top is down on the Jeep, and the sun is lazily hanging in the late afternoon sky. The engine roars to life, and Courtney turns the radio up as loud as it goes. We are rocking the typical college girl stereotype—in a Jeep, listening to hip-hop—but I don’t mind. I’m really happy she’s home to be my personal distraction until Drew returns. Maybe she’ll pull the plug on whatever is going on between Travis and me.
I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, and when I grab it, I see Travis’s name flash across the screen. Courtney takes notice and smiles.
“What does he want?” She lifts an eyebrow at me, and when I don’t answer, she speaks again. “Hello? Since when were you two on texting terms anyway?” She knows how I feel about him and has heard many hours of my hatred for him. I turn my head away from her, hoping to hide the evidence that’s all over my face. She doesn’t need to see the blush across my cheeks to know it’s there.
“Oh my God,” she draws out. “Please tell me Travis King isn’t Mr. Rough ’n’ Dirty Sex Machine Man,” she pleads urgently, her hand squeezing harder around the steering wheel.
I slowly turn my head at her, knowing she’s going to find out anyway. I shrug and pinch my lips together, unable to deny it.
“Holy crap on a cracker.” Her Southern accent is more evident
“No judging,” I say before she can say another word.
“Oh, I’msojudging you right now, but more importantly, I want details. And not just regular sex details. I want Travis King details,” she says matter-of-factly.
“You’re ridiculous.” I try to disguise my voice as nonchalant and completely cool, but as soon as she pulls into the coffee shop and parks it, she flashes me a look that tells me she can see right through my poker face.
It’s a small local cafe, which means not many other cars are parked near us.
“So when did it happen?” She’s beaming.
I sigh.
“See! I knew it. Please tell me he’s hung like a fucking bear.”
“Oh my God.” I close my eyes and try to think of a way out of this. “I can’t talk about this in public, Court.”
“You’re right. We’ll go in the drive-through instead.” She reverses the Jeep out of the parking spot and lines up in the drive-through lane.
“It happened last night.” I close my eyes a moment before opening them again and continuing. “I had been drinking. He was pissed I didn’t let him know where I was, and we got into a huge fight and…” I pause, trying to find the right words. “And I wish it never would’ve. I hate him. I hate him even more now.” I try to repeat it over and over so then maybe my body will stop responding to the thought of him.
“You totally hate-banged.” Her jaw drops almost as if she’s impressed.
I groan. “It was the best hate-sex I’ve ever had in my life.”
She frowns. “You mean your first time ever having hate-sex.”
I roll my eyes, albeit agreeing with her.
When it’s our turn at the window, she orders two soy lattes, blueberry muffins, and lemon pound cake. I dig around my purse for some cash as she pulls up to the window.
Once we pay, she lowers the radio, and her questions don’t stop. “So, what did it mean?” She shifts into park as we wait for our drinks. “Does it mean you two are like together?”
“Oh God, no!” I’m quick to push that idea out of her head. “It was a one-time itch, and it’ll never happen again.”
“Never?” she questions, arching a brow.
“Nope. I don’t have time for complicated in my life, and Drew would have my head, or his head, or both. I don’t know. Either way, it was a huge mistake, and it cannot ever happen again.” I know I’m telling her the words, but it feels as if I’m trying to convince myself more right now.
She nods at me with a disbelieving smile. “Itotallybelieve you.”
I sigh, giving up on trying to explain myself. My head’s a complete clusterfuck, and I don’t need to overthink it anymore.
The girl at the window interrupts my thoughts and hands over our lattes and Courtney’s pastry buffet. While we drive around, she continues the twenty questions, popping pieces of her muffin in her mouth every free chance she gets. The sky is turning a deep bruised purple, and the wisps of clouds are a pretty pink. We’ve been driving for over an hour, and I am relieved that she came back early and can help me process the hot mess I’ve created.
