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SAM: Why did nothing happen? You know you want it to. Come on. You’re single. You should be ready to mingle. Your boss is smoking hot. I would do him. I would seriously. Do. Him.
LEXI: Nah. I bet he sucks at sex. He probably doesn’t even know where to stick it.
SAM: What’s it? His tongue?
LEXI: You know what I’m talking about. Why’s he still single? Hmm? Answer me that. There must be something really wrong with him other than the fact that he’s a jerk. Most women are willing to overlook that because he’s so sickeningly rich. He must be bad in bed.
She couldn’t actually believe she was having the conversation at all. She needed to vent. More than that, she needed to convince herself that Curtis James was still just as much of an asshole and that she hadn’t noticed whatsoever that he was a very attractive asshole. Or that it was getting to her.
SAM: You want to sleep with him. You know you do.
LEXI: It doesn’t matter what I want. He’s my boss. I like my job too much.
SAM: He’s rich.
LEXI: Yeah, got that memo.
SAM: So, if you got with him and he liked you, you could at least milk him for some nice stuff. Sell it after. And if he fires you, sue him for all he’s got.
LEXI: Gross. That’s not me.
SAM: I know. Of course. I was just kidding. But seriously, when are you getting dicked?
SAM: DICKED.
SAM: DICKED DICKED DICKED
LEXI: Yeah. Got it. Got the dicked part. Still not sleeping with him. Not now. Not ever.
SAM: Don’t tell me you haven’t imagined him naked before. Even I have. Everyone has.
Lexi abandoned the conversation and texted her sister back. Sam wasn’t helping. She just wanted Lexi to give her, probably for the first time ever, a good story. She had to admit she was woefully bankrupt on good stories, sexual or otherwise. Her ex-boyfriends hadn’t lasted long, and they hadn’t exactly been stellar in that department. She was pretty sure that the last one, Jeff, didn’t even know what a clit was, let alone where to find it. If they’d had other redeeming qualities, it would have been okay, but she had, overall, what Sam liked to dub ‘the worst fucking luck on this whole fucking planet with fucking men.’
LEXI: Sorry. Just been really busy with work. I started running too. I hate it. I get up early, go for a run. Get ready for work. Do work. Run after. Still hate it. Shower. Eat dinner. Bed. Repeat. Nothing to report. Didn’t mean to go radio silent on everyone.
ANDY: Is that a code for you’re sleeping with your boss?
LEXI: WHAT? HOW DID YOU GET THAT FROM WHAT I JUST SAID?
ANDY: I read between the lines. You hate running. You must have something serious you’re trying to get off your mind. And you just babysat for him last weekend. You were at his house. Something must have happened for you to just drop off the face of the earth.
LEXI: Nothing happened. There were kids there. And secondly, gross.
ANDY: Your boss is not gross. Your boss is like a twelve out of ten.
LEXI: I hadn’t noticed. His jerkiness usually acts like a cloak. It hangs around him like a black stench of old farts and yesterday’s tuna sandwiches.
ANDY: See. I know you think he’s hot. Only you could be that inventive with your denial. Just be careful. He’s still your boss.
LEXI: Okay, so I’ve thought about him without clothes on. He purposefully did it! He came down to the pool wearing only swim trunks.
ANDY: What else do you swim in? Birthday suit?
LEXI: Vomit. Ugh. Please no. There were kids there! Children! Anyway, he made me think about him without clothes because I kept thinking about him in those trunks. Just because he has a nice body and works out doesn’t mean that I want to sleep with him. He’s gross.
ANDY: Which is code for you want him to bang you senseless and that bothers you because you shouldn’t want it, because he’s, according to you, an uber asshole with a huge bank account who acts like a petulant six year old with a temper tantrum problem and a penchant to date models.
LEXI: There you have it. He would never even notice me. I’m not a supermodel.
ANDY: Don’t sell yourself short. Maybe he’s really nice beneath the asshole exterior. Maybe he does it to protect himself. People probably just see his money when they look at him. That has to get old.
LEXI: I’m sure being super rich gets old. Yeah right. Nope. Never going to sell me that one. There is nothing below the asshole exterior, but more asshole.
ANDY: Okay, okay. Sorry. So, like, how badly do you want to sleep with him? Need an intervention? Need me to try and hook you up with Brad from work again?
