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“Which Troy would you like to message? Troy Martin or Fuckboy Troy?”
I groan, “Fuckboy Troy.”
“What would you like to text Fuckboy Troy?” my car asks, but I swear it’s giving me attitude.
“What time?”
“Your message reads ‘want time?’”
“Fuck you, no! What. Time.”
“Sending ‘want time’ to Fuckboy Troy.”
Fuck this car. Fuck my phone. Fuck my life.
A few minutes pass and a new message appears on the screen. My asshole car tells me my meeting is at 8am, which onlyfurthers my annoyance. I’ll be getting in late tonight and will need to rush to get everything ready.
This isn’t just any meeting, it’s my fucking doctorate dissertation proposal. Its an expansion of my masters thesis, and if it doesn’t get approved, I’ll need to go back to the drawing board and figure out what the hell I’m going to do.
I speed home, just over the limit so that I don’t get pulled over. Last thing I need is Mountie Cupid giving me shit for hauling ass through town. Once at my apartment, I start a load of laundry and call Troy. Unfortunately, the meeting is still at 8am. I should go to bed, start the day well rested, but Troy insists on coming over.
After being home for less than an hour, I’m mid-laundry rotation when there’s a knock at the door. I finish moving everything into the dryer and take a deep breath. I really didn’t want to see him tonight, especially after the last two weeks with Axl. He still came, despite my hesitation.
I cross my apartment, and open the door to find a ruggedly handsome and impeccably dressed Troy, leaning against the door frame. As hot as he is, I don’t have time or energy for this tonight.
“How was Coal’s Lake, eh?” He greets me with a kiss to my cheek, and the worst accent I’ve heard in my life. Fucking Americans.
My jaw tics and I grit out, “I told you, I have to prepare for tomorrow. Now isn’t a good time.”
Troy pushes past me into my apartment, disregarding me for a second time tonight. He takes off his shoes, leaving them haphazardly in my entryway. If he wasn’t amazing in bed, and potentially on my dissertation committee, I’d throw his shoesout my front door into the snow. I never planned on continuing our arrangement when he joined my thesis committee, but ending whatever this is didn’t feel like an option without things getting weird. Thankfully, no one on the committee knows.
“You’re cute when you’re mad.”
I stifle yet another groan. “I’m not mad.”I am absolutely mad.
“Whatever you say, Bethy.”
Don’t murder Troy.
I let out a long breath and lock the door, moving his shoes away from the entry. As I glance up, he’s already unbuckling his belt.
This friends with benefits situation is nothing like what I had with Axl, and I don’t know if I can stomach it tonight. He’ll probably want to try some new kinky shit he read about online. I’m not really in the mood but…
Let the show begin.
axl
?. . .?
January 19th
After an eventful holiday season of check-ins at Jamie’s Lodge, and moonlighting as a ‘dancer’ for various private parties, I’m fucking exhausted. Is my engineering degree being put to good use? No. But I make more money stripping for nearly married women and their friends than I do at the hotel I work at. There aren’t a lot of jobs that require my education in our small town; I’m just happy to be working jobs I enjoy.
Since my roommate, Gabe, is busy helping the Comets and the Andersons tonight with taking down their decorations, I’m picking up an extra shift at work. Why it takes five men to take down lights and inflatable Santas is beyond me. That’s not even taking into consideration that it’s almost a month after Christmas.
Mid-January is a quiet time at the lodge. While we still see the tail end of tourist season, most of the holiday travel is done, and we’ve only had a handful of guests in the past couple weeks. Bachelorette parties are also on the downswing, but Iexpect them to pick up sometime in the next couple of weeks with Valentine’s Day approaching.
I’m clocking in at work when my phone pings with a text. Assuming it’s Gabe or our friend, Quinton, I pull it from my back pocket before starting.
