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“The fact that you got more flustered by the question tells me he’s hot; we both know that.”
I roll my eyes even though she can’t see my face in our contorted positions. I think about her question for a second, fully aware he’s the unequivocal definition of hot, sexy, forbidden, and everything bad for you, dripping with regret. After our little meeting in my classroom, I researched his name to find out just exactly who he was and I may or may not have spent way too long clicking through the plethora of Google images that came up.
“I have no idea if he’s single.”
Another lie. In my deep dive of him, I also might have noticed he was a widow and proceeded to search if he was currently dating someone.
“Why are you so curious? Thinking about ending things with Ryan?” I ask, knowing full well that she has no intention of ending things with her long-term boyfriend.
“For you, silly.”
“Pretty sure fraternizing with my students’ parents is highly frowned upon, especially when they’re probably the richest and most powerful parent at the school.”
“Sounds like a fun fantasy—one of those sexy, forbidden romance novels you love to read. Speaking of, what’s his name? I want to look him up.” She abandons our workout as she reaches for her phone.
“Weston Vaughn.”
“Ohhh, sounds so mysterious, kind of like a sexy villain.”
“He’s a villain alright,” I mutter.
She lies on her stomach, her feet up in the air, as she types furiously on her screen before gasping. “Are you kidding me?”
“What?” She looks over at me and I untwist my body, flopping down beside her to look at the screen.
“I’ve seen photos of him on Instagram and TikTok. Women are always thirsting over this man hard-core. I just didn’t realize his name.” She flips over to one of her social media apps and turns the screen toward me so I can see a woman fanning herself and pretending to drool as images of him flash across the screen.
“Oh God, just what his ego needs. I bet he eats that shit up.” I roll my eyes again.
“Damn, he doesn’t have any of his own social media accounts.” She flicks through several more posts about him. “Look at his body, he’s so ripped. Holy shit, he’s forty-two? He looks like he’s thirty.”
I feel that flush growing up my neck again, a warmth spreading through my belly as I remember the way he looked down on me in my classroom. He was closer than I realized at the time, the scent of his spicy cologne teasing me. I don’t know if I was imagining it or not, but it felt like he stared at me a little bit longer than necessary. And I swear I saw his eyes flick down my body and back up in a flash.
God, I’ve been reading too many romance novels. Weston Vaughn sees me as a bug flying around his head, a nuisance that only causes him frustration.
“If I had to guess, he’s more of a triple fudge sundae, gooey brownie kind of guy and not a low carb, low sugar diet kind of brownie.”
“Huh?” Xana lifts a brow at me, turning her face away from her screen. “Explain this Daphne logic to me, please.”
“Just something my mom would say.” I smile to myself, remembering her talking about this hotshot quarterback I was head over heels in love with in high school. Her logic wasn’t that Icouldn’tattract someone like him; it was that oftentimes guys who only offer looks and popularity weren’t the ones you wanted to waste your time on. “She’d say that a man like Mr. Vaughn, powerful, richer than God, and looks like that—he’s the sundae. Decadent. The kind of dessert that makes no pretense about what it is—nothing healthy yet sinfully delicious. But most likely will leave you filled with regret when the excitement wears off.”
“And the low carb, diet one?”
“It pretends to be the real thing, but when it’s gone, you’re still wanting more because it wasn’t fully satisfying.”
“Well damn. So what are we supposed to? Settle?” she asks sincerely.
“Honestly, I dunno. I don’t think my mom’s logic was legitimate advice.” I laugh. “She’d always say go for the classic, a chocolate chip cookie because even a bad cookie is a good one.”
I lie on my back for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, now wondering if my mom did settle. She met my dad when she was young, at fifteen. They were high school sweethearts and she always said he was her soulmate, the love of her life, but maybe it’s only because she’d convinced herself he was.
“By the way, any more random invites from creepy Steve across the hall and his mystery roommate?”
“Not lately,” I say, referring to my awkward neighbor who has become increasingly interested in me. I feel bad calling him creepy. His casual invites to watch a movie or watch him play video games were nice enough at first, but after catching him staring out his cracked front door at me coming home from work a time or two, it’s bordering on weird. “I did see him in the lobby when I got home from Paris. He peppered me with questions about where I’d been and said he was worried since he hadn’t seen or heard from me in the last week.”
“Eww, that is way too creepy, Daph. You need to stop giving him the benefit of the doubt and get a camera or something for your door and tell your building manager.”
I shrug. “I think he’s harmless, honestly; he’s probably just lonely and a touch socially awkward.”
