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But…ugh. How much loyalty do I even owe Yvonne? I don’t know her at all. We’re not friends, and she hasn’t gone out of her way to try to change that.
“Should I…” I trail off, biting my lip.
“Take her to coffee and tell her you charmed her boyfriend outfrom under her?” Celeste supplies. “No. I can’t picture her reacting well to that. Best to keep that information to yourself.”
I study Celeste’s face, but her expression is unreadable. “Are you going to tell her?” If I should be sleeping with one eye open, I’d like to know.
“I don’t want to be in the middle of it.”
To be honest, neither do I.
Celeste sighs. “And if I’m being entirely truthful, it was quite obvious to everyone but Yvonne that Nate wasn’t in love with her.” She pauses. “So who do we like more? Nate or Jack?”
“That’s the thing. If I knew, I wouldn’t be in this mess. Physically, they’re both attractive, so there’s no clear winner there. Personality-wise… well, Jack’s fun, you know? Easy. We can be silly together. Nate makes me feel more grown-up. He’s challenging. Adventurous.”
“Can’t get much different than those two.” She flashes a cheeky grin. “Who’s the better shag?”
My cheeks heat up. “They’re both very skilled in the sexy-times department.”
“Well, this is a real conundrum then.”
“I know.” I blow out a frazzled breath. “And then, on the other hand, I don’t know if there’s a point in obsessing over any of this. Nate hasn’t once asked me to be exclusive. And there’s Jack, who said he was going to prove to me that he’s serious after jerking me around a few times. I promised him I’d be patient, but he still hasn’t made his intentions clear, so I don’t know what this is. What we are.”
My frustrated groan echoes between us.
“Piece of advice.” She holds out her glass to the waiter when he comes by to top us up. “You’re a beautiful, powerful, intelligent woman. You don’t have time for silly little boys who can’t make up their minds. Why should you settle for just one, be forced to choose, when you don’t even know what you’re choosing?”
She’s not wrong. Neither of them has told me what they want out of this. A girlfriend? A friend with benefits? A fleeting fling?
How can I choose between them when I don’t even know what they want?
Those questions haunt me for the rest of the evening, making it difficult to concentrate on the assigned reading for my European history class. It doesn’t help that both Jack and Nate text within seconds of each other.
Jack: Match is over. We murdered them. Grabbing a bite and pints with the lads at the Red Fiddle if you fancy joining us. If not, I’ll sneak into your room later?
Nate: Come over to mine? I’ll be off early tonight. Around ten.
I groan out loud. God. Why can’t I just choose already? I don’t want to be sitting here trying to decide which guy I’d like to fool around with tonight. That’s not me.
When I see Ben Tulley’s name light up my phone screen, I answer on the first ring, desperate for an effective distraction.
“Abbey, darling. How are you?”
“Excellent. How’s the weather in Ibiza?”
“Sweltering. And quite past its expiration. I’m home now. Back in dreary London.”
“My condolences.”
“One can’t linger long in air he can’t see. Lest we lose our stamina.”
“I’ll try to remember that. So. To what do I owe this honor, Lord Tulley?”
He chuckles. “I’m calling because I’ve some boxes here cluttering my drawing room and I wondered if you might fancy a peek inside.”
My spirits are promptly bolstered. “You remembered,” I say happily. “I was worried you might forget them in Ibiza.”
“And miss hearing the delight in your voice? Of course not. So, fancy that peek?”
