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“You sure are being nice to someone you supposedly can’t stand.” He whistles. “I wish my enemies were as considerate as you. Is Miss She-Devil moving in with you when you buy your new house, too?”
I’ve been on the hunt for a new place since moving back, but the market sucks. Most residents stay in their houses until they die, and then their kids inherit them, repeating history. My dad has tried to sign over the house to me countless times, but I won’t allow it. He built his life, his family, and memories there. I won’t take that away from him. He deserves to have that happiness for as long as he can.
“It’s only temporary until she finds a new place,” I say. “No one will rent to her.”
“Can you blame them? The chick is a walkingFirestarter, à la Stephen King.”
I start the engine and settle my cup in the holder. “Shut up.”
He puts his cup in next. “You’re too damn soft for her, man. Pussy is a weakness for some men, and there’s no doubt, Lauren’s pussy is yours.”
I shove his shoulder. “Watch your mouth. She needs somewhere to stay. That’s it.”
“The chick has family. She can rent another apartment out of town. There are plenty of options for Blue Beech’s golden girl that don’t involve shacking up with you.”
“My dad can use the extra income.”
“Bullshit,” he coughs into his hand. “You won’t take a penny from her.”
“What’s up with you in my business? You been watching Hallmark movies with your mom again? I don’t question you about your women troubles.”
His lips tilt into a grin. “Oh, so she’s your woman now?”
“I still hate her.”
“Perfect. I have a date tonight, and she’s bringing a friend. Your uptight ass needs to get laid.” He smacks my back. “Time to fuck that she-devil out of your mind.”
* * *
Lauren’s ugly-asspink Mustang is parked in the driveway when I pull in.
It doesn’t surprise me that she’s still driving her first car. In order to buy it, she worked at the town diner for years to save up money. Her parents agreed to match whatever she came up with. I thought the car was hideous then, and I detest it even more now. The dudes on the basketball team loved giving me hell when she forced me to ride passenger while she drove around town.
I contemplate whether to head up to the loft and check on her but don’t. Kyle was right about me needing to pull my head out of my ass and remember the pain she caused me. I can’t let her step back into my life with her gorgeous smile, those beautiful brown eyes, and that contagious laugh and break down my walls.
It fucking killed me last time.
I wasn’t as weak then.
It’d be worse the second go-around.
I snatch my phone up from the passenger seat when it beeps.
Kyle: You driving or want me to pick you up?
Me: Driving. Be there in 30.
Kyle: Bring an overnight bag. Bringing a date home to a loft you share with your ex most likely won’t be a turn on for her.
Me: Fuck off.
Kyle: See you soon, assface.
I make it my mission not to look toward the loft when I head into the house. I shower and throw on jeans and a simple white tee. It takes a minute to find my duffel bag in the back of my closet. I lay it on the bed and stare down at it.
Should I?
It’s been nearly five months since I’ve had sex. Pussy hasn’t been on my mind since Missy did what she did. Maybe it’s what I need. They say sex helps with stress. Let’s test that theory.
