My Rules (Kingston Lane Book 2)
My Rules: Chapter 14

Barry paces back and forth in front of the door as I sip my coffee and plot Blake’s murder. It’s Barry’s walk time, but of course Blake isn’t home from his date last night yet, so we all know that’s not happening.

I imagine myself ripping him limb from limb.

Barry paces and paces as he looks up at me all excited. Like, ugh . . . “Fine,” I snap. “I’ll take you for your walk.” I grab his lead and open the back door, and Barry races outside and runs around with the zoomies. He runs full speed one way and then the other, then he circles the entire garden. I roll my eyes. I usually think it’s cute when he does this, but today, not so much.

I’m tired and I’m cranky and I’m well aware of why . . . I hate men.

On Monday morning, I’m going to buy myself eight cats to grow old with.

“This way.” I hold up the lead, and he comes trotting over. I attach him and open the side gate, and right on cue, he takes off and nearly pulls my arm out of the socket, and I go flying forward.

“Barry!” I yell. I try to rein him in with all my might. “Don’t pull.”

“That dog is a menace in the mornings,” Carol calls as she waters her garden.

“Sure is.” I fake a smile. “Morning, Carol.” I wave.

“Hello, dear.” She keeps watering.

If there’s one thing I can always depend on, it’s seeing Carol in her pink dressing gown watering her garden every morning at six.

After a few houses, Barry calms down, and we get into our normal routine, and he begins to behave.

The silver Porsche comes around the corner, and my blood boils. He winds down the window and pulls up beside me. “I was going to walk him.”

“You’re too late,” I spit.

Act cool.

“Wait for me. I’ll come with you,” Blake says.

“I’m good.” I roll my lips to try and hold my snarky tongue.

“Did you have a good night?” He smiles through the car window.

Not as good as yours.

“Great night.”

“You like him?” He smiles.

“Gregory could be the one.” I’m lying through my teeth. Not even close. There is zero chemistry between us, not that I’ll ever let on. “And your night was . . . ?”

“It was okay.”

I stare at him, deadpan. “Just okay?”

“Maybe . . .” He breaks into a slow, sexy smile. “More than okay.”

I clench my jaw so hard, I’m surprised that my teeth don’t crack in half. “Great.” I can’t even push a single word past my lips.

“When are you seeing him again?” he asks.

“Ahh.” I’m so flustered that I can’t even think straight. “We’re going bowling on Tuesday night.”

“Bowling?” He smiles. “Nice . . .”

Fuck . . . Why did I say that? Bowling was never discussed. I couldn’t even commit to a date. I told him to call me during the week.

“I love bowling,” Blake replies. “I haven’t been in ages.”

Fuck.

I begin to sweat. I’m the worst liar in history. Why couldn’t I think of a hotter second date than stupid bowling?

I try to cut the conversation short. “Anyway, have a good day.”

“We might come,” he says as he rests his arm over the steering wheel.

“Wha . . . where?”

“Bowling.”

“What do you mean?” I frown.

“Well . . . can Kayla and I come to bowling?”

“Didn’t you come enough last night?” I fume.

His eyes dance with mischief. “A gentleman never tells.” He taps the side of his nose. “You know that.”

“She’s not even your type.” I put my hands on my hips.

“Are you kidding?” He frowns. “Kayla is everyone’s type.”

And there it is . . . the answer I was looking for. He thinks she’s as wonderful as I do.

This is all going to hell on a broomstick.

“Okay, bye.” I begin to walk, and he drives the car beside me.

“So, what time on Tuesday?”

“Blake,” I snap in exasperation, “you and Kayla do your own thing.”

“I thought we were double dating for a while?”

“That was until—” I cut myself off.

“Until what?” His eyes hold mine intently.

Until you bonked her brains out on the first night . . .

“I just don’t . . .”

“I know.”

“You know what?” I cut him off.

“I know it’s hard for you to start dating. But I want you to know that I’m here for you.”

Is he kidding?

“Oh no, that’s not it at all. I just want Gregory all to myself, and no offense, but you and Kayla are kind of cramping our style.” I keep walking.

“Right.” He smirks as he drives along beside me. “Hot night planned, huh?”

“Yep.”

“All right, just one bowling match, and then Kayla and I will get going,” he calls as he drives off. He waves out the window.

I watch his Porsche disappear down the road and pull up at his house. His garage door slowly goes up, and then he drives inside.

Ugh . . . Why do I say such dumb crap?

Blake

“The honeymoon was good?”

“It was fucking great.”

“So get this.” Henley puts the ball into the hole. “I was on the app while I was away.”

“Yeah.” We look around guiltily and move in closer.

“There’s a book trope called hucow,” he leans in and whispers.

“What’s that?” I whisper.

“Breastfeeding during sex.”

My eyes widen in horror as my cock twinges with excitement.

“What?” Antony whispers. “That’s fucking disgusting . . . and extremely hot.”

“I know, right,” Henley agrees.

“So, like . . .” I frown as I try to picture it. “Is the baby there?”

“No.” He looks left and right in guilt. “It’s these hot women who are taking drugs to make them lactate to satiate men’s kinks,” he whispers. “Hot women with huge, voluptuous tits.”

My mouth falls open in horror as my cock begins to thump. I rearrange my erection in my pants. “That is . . . gross.”

“Yeah, that’s why you’ve got a semi.”

“There’s no semi; it’s a raging boner.”

“I started reading one story, and it was so fucking hot that I had to stop and make Juliet have sex with me.”

“I’ve got a date with my right hand after even hearing about it,” I murmur. “What did she say about you reading that stuff?”

“She thinks I was reading a crime story, commended me on winding down properly.”

I chuckle.

Antony grabs the golf putter off him and lines up his shot. “Send me the name of this book. Might even be worth having kids for.”

I chuckle. “I’m pretty sure if you have a baby and your wife is feeding it, and you come at her naked with a hard-on and say My turn . . . it isn’t going to end well for you.”

The boys both laugh as we imagine the scenario.

“A man can dream, though, right?” Ant smiles.

“Look, all I’m saying is, this Kindle . . . is the fucking mother ship of sex tips for deviants,” Henley tells us. “I’m going to have a doctorate in this shit by the time I’ve finished reading all these books.”

“Excellent.” Antony putts the ball. “Same.”

Rebecca

“Knock, knock, anybody home?” a familiar voice calls.

“Juliet!” I cry in excitement. “How was the honeymoon?” I open the door in a rush and give her a big hug. “Oh, I missed you. Feels like you’ve been gone for a month.”

“Oh my god, me too. Barry was so excited when we got home.”

“I bet he was. Come in, come in. Tell me all about it.”

“We had the best time.” She smiles dreamily. “We lay in the sun and slept and ate and went to the most beautiful restaurants.”

“How does it feel to be a married woman?” I smile.

Juliet holds her hand up to show me her wedding rings. “Amazing.” She looks around my house. “What have I missed? Was Barry well behaved?”

“He was a perfect angel,” I lie.

I’m not going to tell her about all my makeup being ruined, that he chewed up four pairs of my lace underpants, killed all my potted plants, and the small fact that he ate Blake’s two-thousand-dollar rug.

“I’m even thinking of getting a dog myself.” Not a lie—I actually am, but I want a well-behaved one. “Let me put the kettle on. I want to hear every detail.” I smile. “You have no idea how much I missed you.”

“Same.” Juliet walks in and flops down on my couch. “It’s great to be home.”

“What about this one?” Chloe holds out the dress into the change room.

“Hmm.” I twist my lips as I eye it over. “I was trying to go sexier.”

“So what’s this guy like that you’re going bowling with, anyway?”

“He seems nice. We’ve been chatting online for a couple weeks. We went out once and had a pretty good time.”

“What does Blake say about this?”

I frown as I pull the next dress up over my hips. “Why would Blake have anything to say about this?”

“Because you know how he is with you. He’ll be jealous as all hell.”

“Oh please,” I scoff. “Blake and I are just friends.” There’s no hope of anything more, not with Kayla in the picture.

“Keep telling yourself that. Trust me, I’m a Blake Grayson expert. I have been watching that man for eighteen months, and there’s something that I know with one hundred percent certainty.”

“What’s that?”

“Whenever you’re in the room, nobody else exists for Blake. I’ve learned to live with it by now.”

I open the curtain and look at Chloe. “Are you serious?”

She nods.

“That makes me feel like shit, Chloe, knowing that you’ve liked him all along. I’m sorry. Is that really what you think?”

“Yeah, I do, and that’s not a bad thing. You don’t need to apologize. I just had a crush on Blake because he’s gorgeous. We didn’t really know each other, and I knew pretty early on that he was smitten with you.”

“You know, it’s the weirdest thing. Taryn said the same thing to me the other day.”

“Because it’s true.”

“I hate to think that if you liked him, and you thought he liked me, that you wouldn’t have said something.” My eyes search hers.

“Blake and I never had chemistry. I just thought he was gorgeous, and now that I have Oliver, I’m actually glad that nothing ever happened.”

I shrug, unsure what to say to that, so I go back to trying on another dress. “Try this one on.” She holds another dress through the curtain.

I think out loud. “Anyway, he’s got a new girl, Kayla, and I think she might be the one for him. It’s probably a good thing. If something did happen with me and Blake and it didn’t work out, I worry that we would lose our friendship.”

“But what if it did work out.”

I stick my head out of the curtain, and my eyes hold hers for a moment.

Her eyes widen. “Wait a minute . . . you do like him? You do, don’t you?”

“No. I’m confused; there’s a big difference. Blake has always been like a big brother to me, but recently I’ve just had a few weird moments where the lines have been blurred, that’s all.” I’m trying to convince myself it’s true, but the words sound hollow to my own ears.

“If I was you, do you know what I would do?”

My eyes search hers. “Please tell me, because I would love some insight from someone who knows the both of us.”

“I would grab hold of Blake Grayson with two hands, and I would make him fall madly in love with me. And I wouldn’t let him go . . . ever.”

“What if he doesn’t like me that way?”

“Trust me, he does.” She goes back to looking at the racks. “I’m going to replace you something sexy for bowling and not for stupid Gregory. I’m replaceing you something sexy for Blake.”

I roll my eyes. “Why?”

“You two belong together.”

Blake

“Hey,” I call as I walk through Rebecca’s front door. “Photog is here.”

“Hi.” Bec bounces down the stairs. She’s wearing gym clothes, and I have to concentrate on keeping my eyes on her face.

“I bought some oil.” I pull it out of my pocket and hold it up.

“What for?”

“I thought we could oil up your feet tonight.”

She blinks. “You want to rub oil into my feet.”

I want to rub oil all over you.

“It will sell pictures.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

I’ll buy the fuckers myself.

“Okay.” She shrugs. “Where will we do this?”

“Probably on your bed.”

“You can’t oil me up on my bed. I’ll get horny.”

“That’s the point.”

She smirks. “Will you behave for just one minute?”

“Fine.” I roll my eyes. “Kitchen counter it is.”

I follow her into the kitchen, and she sits up on the kitchen counter. I slide her leggings up to her knees. Her muscular calves feel good under my hands.

She sits silent as she watches me.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump goes my cock . . .

I drizzle oil onto her feet and slowly begin to massage it in.

“You look like you’re enjoying that a little too much.” She smiles.

“Yeah, well, for the record, I’m totally jerking off with this oil when I get home.”

She bubbles up a surprised giggle. “Sure you are.”

Ha!

She thinks I’m joking . . .

Laughter rings out through Kingston Lane. We’re having a street get-together tonight to celebrate Henley and Juliet coming back from their honeymoon.

We’re all playing golf on our Kingston Lane green, and Winston is lingering around like a bad smell, which can only mean one thing.

“So, Doc,” he whispers under his breath as Henley takes a shot.

“Yes.”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“And . . .”

“What are the chances of you accidentally losing a prescription pad?”

Fuck me, not this again. Who the hell is this eighty-year-old man screwing all the time?

“Zero to none.”

He twists his lips as he looks at me. “Come on, it makes no difference to you. But it will make a huge difference to me.”

“Firstly, having no job will make a huge difference to me, Winston, and I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but having a constant erection does not improve the quality of your life.”

He throws up his hands. “You really have no idea, do you?”

I smirk over at him because we both know I’m telling ridiculous lies.

An orgasm is life and one that I can’t imagine living without. When I get to his age, I probably will be doing the same, overdosing on Viagra on the daily.

On that note, my dick is about to fall off with gangrene.

Henley interrupts us. “So, what happened while I was away?”

“Nothing much.”

He gestures over to the end of the street, where Rebecca is talking to the boys from the Navy House.

“Looks like a lot is happening over there.”

My eyes linger on the boys all gathered around Rebecca. She’s laughing and carefree as she talks, and they are hanging on her every word. I begin to hear my jealous heart beating in my ears.

“I kind of thought you and Rebecca might have hooked up by now,” Henley says casually.

“Why are you always rattling on about Rebecca?” I snap in frustration. “When are you getting it through your thick head? We are just friends.”

I would love to tell them all about what’s going on between me and Rebecca, but the thing is that we all live on the same street, which is already rife with gossip. There’s also the small fact that Henley is married to Rebecca’s best friend. If I tell him, he tells Juliet. Juliet tells Rebecca, and my world blows up. It’s all a bit too close for comfort, and I just need to keep everything to myself until I figure this mess out.

I’m not denying that it would be great to talk to someone about this right about now, though. The boys have been teasing me for years about my crush on Rebecca. I can’t imagine what it would be like if they knew that I actually did have feelings for her.

Are they feelings, or is it just a crush?

My eyes linger once more on her talking to the other guys, and honestly, it’s like sticking a knife in my stomach. I can’t bear the thought of her with someone else, and I drag my hand through my hair in frustration. I’ve never felt so out of control in my life.

Rebecca laughs out loud.

What’s so fucking funny?

I begin to feel unstable. Everything feels like it’s coming to a head all of a sudden, and I have no idea why.

The only thing I do know is that this is a living nightmare.

“So, Henley,” Winston says. “Do you have any spare prescriptions from Blake?”

“What?” I screw up my face. “Give it a rest already, you sex maniac.”

Henley frowns over at Winston. “Why would I have a prescription?”

“Well, you just got back from your honeymoon. Surely he wrote you a script for Viagra.”

“I still have all my senses, Winston, and an insanely hot wife. Viagra is hopefully a good twenty years away for me yet,” Henley mutters dryly.

I tap the top of my beer bottle with his and take a sip.

He leans in close so only I can hear. “For the record, I will be stealing those prescriptions when it gets to that stage,” Henley adds.

“Trust me.” I sip my beer. “I’ll already be on it.”

I pull up to the curb at Kayla’s, and before I can get out of the car, she jumps down her front steps. “Hello.” She smiles happily.

“Hi,” I grumble.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asks.

“This is not working.”

“It is, trust me.”

“I don’t know how I let you talk me into this harebrained idea. Rebecca is not jealous one single bit. In fact, she said that he’s the one.”

“Oh please,” Kayla scoffs. “She spent all night watching you. Trust me, he is not the one.”

I pull out into traffic, and we drive for a little while.

“What’s the plan of attack tonight?” I ask.

“Okay, so I’ve been thinking about this, and I think the best way to go is for you to be all over me.”

“Do you know how hard it is for me to be all over you when she’s right in front of me?” I snap angrily. “Nothing has been harder than kissing you in front of her. It fucking kills me.”

“You are so sweetly pathetic.” She rolls her eyes. “Where’s my Blake the fuckboy prick that I’ve always loved?”

“Listen, don’t get fucking smart. Are you going to help me or not?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“I guess. For some reason, I get the sinking feeling that tonight’s going to go to shit.” I sigh as I turn the corner.

“Stop thinking like that. It’s easy. We walk in there, and you’re all over me. I’m telling you, she’s jealous. One more night and you’re going to have her in the palm of your hand.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then our plan backfired, and you probably pushed her into his arms.”

“Oh, just great.” I drag my hand down my face in disgust.

Kayla and I used to fuck, for a long time actually. But we were never romantically involved. She was a friend with benefits. Funnily enough, she used me a couple of years ago to make her crush jealous, and they ended up falling madly in love. It wasn’t forever, though, and they just recently broke up, so I thought I would return the favor.

She isn’t even a nurse; she works in a pharmacy as a dispensary assistant, and yes, she’s an excellent catch, but she’s definitely not the woman I want to settle down with.

Great in bed, though.

Right. I try to steel myself as we pull into the parking lot of the bowling alley.

“Of all things, why this? I fucking hate bowling.”

Kayla laughs. “This is so off brand for you.”

“Bowling is, I have to agree.”

“No. The whole freaking-out-over-a-woman thing.”

“Right?” I widen my eyes as I pull the car to a stop and put the hand brake on. “I don’t even know why she’s got me so crazy.”

“I do. She’s beautiful.”

“It’s not even her outside that I like . . . I mean, that’s good, too, of course.”

“Look at you.” Kayla smiles over at me. “Totally smitten. What I wouldn’t have given to have you fall in love with me a couple of years ago.”

I roll my eyes at her. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She laughs.

I get out of the car and take Kayla’s hand in mine. We walk through the parking lot as a million scenarios of why this is a bad idea run through my mind. My heart is hammering hard in my chest. “If she replaces out that I did this on purpose to make her jealous, shit is going to hit the fan,” I whisper as we walk in through the front doors.

“She’s never going to replace out,” Kayla whispers as she brushes my shirt. “You look hot tonight, by the way.”

“Thanks. Not as hot as you.” I peck her on the lips as I begin the charade.

“And who knows, if it turns out that she doesn’t like you, then maybe when you drop me home tonight, I can have my payment in dick.” She throws me a sexy wink.

I spot Rebecca across the room, and I smile softly. “Shut up,” I whisper with my eyes locked on my girl. “We are not fucking tonight.”

“Where did you sleep the other night, anyway?” she asks.

“In a hotel.”

“Wow, you are really going balls to the wall with this one.”

“Well, the plan isn’t going to work if she doesn’t believe it, and the good thing is, she did notice that I didn’t come home, so that looks promising.”

“I’m telling you, she’s totally into you. A woman knows these things.”

“If she likes me, then she’ll be jealous of you. If she’s not jealous of you, then I am giving up on this for the last time.”

“Why don’t you just act like a normal person and have a conversation and ask her?”

“Because if she doesn’t like me like that, I’m going to ruin our friendship, and I will not risk that for anything.”

“Surely you know if she likes you or not. You can’t be this stupid?” she whispers as we walk toward Rebecca and Gregory.

“She gives me mixed signals. Some days I’m sure that she does, and other days I’m positive that she doesn’t.”

I smile sweetly over at Kayla, my fake date. “It’s showtime, bitch. Let’s do this.”

Rebecca

Blake and Kayla walk hand in hand over to us. “Hi.” Kayla smiles.

“Hello,” Blake says as he looks between us.

“Hi,” Gregory replies with his hands on his hips.

“Nice shoes,” Blake says.

“Thanks.”

“They go with your pants.” Blake smirks. “Stylin’, brother.”

I glance down to see that Gregory has his brown pants tucked into long white socks.

Ugh . . . he looks ridiculous.

Gregory looks down all innocently. “That’s what you do at bowling.”

Blake’s eyes dance with mischief. “Okay.”

I widen my eyes at Blake. Don’t you dare be in this mood tonight.

Be nice, fucker.

“Blakey, can you put my shoes on me?” Kayla says in a baby voice as she sits down.

“Sure I can.” He kneels in front of her and takes her shoe off and kisses her foot.

My blood boils.

He pulls one sock on and then the other as she puts her hands in his hair. “I love it when you’re on your knees for me,” she whispers loudly.

“Me too.” He nips her knee with his teeth.

Ugh . . .

“You two should probably get a room.” I pick up a bowling ball and imagine hurling it at their heads.

“Wait for us,” Blake says. He puts Kayla’s shoes on and then takes a seat, and Kayla gets down and takes his shoes off.

“Oh please,” I scoff. “Don’t touch his feet; he has terrible tinea.”

“We share our germs, don’t we, baby?” Kayla giggles.

Her head has somehow turned into a red bull’s-eye target, and I glare at her as I imagine knocking her clean out.

“While you’re down there . . . ,” Blake jokes.

“I wish,” Kayla purrs.

“You two are making me jealous.” Gregory smiles. He puts his arm around me. “Lay one on me.” He kisses me.

Lay one on me?

What does he think, that he’s Kenny Rogers and this is a country song?

He goes in for a tongue kiss, and I pull out of his grip . . . awkward. Public tongue kissing is not my thing.

Especially with Kenny Rogers.

Enough.

“Let’s get bowling,” I snap. I pick up the bowling ball, run, and hurl it down the alley. It knocks over every pin.

Ha, anger makes me bowl better.

“Nice shot.” Gregory smiles. He comes in for a kiss.

What?

He grabs my head and holds me in. His tongue takes no prisoners.

Ahhhh.

I pull out of it to see Blake stand. He glares at Gregory and picks up a bowling ball.

“I’m going to wipe you off the planet, Gregory.” He fakes a smile.

Huh?

Kayla giggles, thinking this is the best fun in forever.

Blake runs and hurls the bowling ball. It bounces nearly three feet high and runs into the gutter before it even gets to the end.

“Unlucky,” Gregory calls. “Watch this, baby,” he says to me. He calmly picks up the ball and bends his knees and acts all professional-like. He stands there and waits, as if he’s mentally psyching himself up to take the shot.

“This isn’t the Olympics,” Blake mutters under his breath.

Kayla giggles again . . . What is so funny, bitch?

Gregory takes his shot, and then he does some weird crossing-his-leg-behind thing as he waits for his ball to go down the alley.

“Yes!” he yells as he gets a strike. “Boom! That’s how it’s done.” He claps his hands together. “Oh yeah, wiping the table with you, Grayson.”

Blake’s eyes flicker red, and Kayla laughs again.

Honestly . . . if she keeps laughing, I cannot be held responsible for dropping a bowling ball on her toe.

“Your turn, baby,” Gregory tells me. He slaps me on the behind, and Blake inhales sharply as he sits on the chair.

“Just think of the reward you’re going to get tonight if you win, babe.” Kayla smiles.

I stuff my fingers into the holes on the bowling ball. This bitch is going down.

“Do you mind not talking dirty while I’m trying to bowl?” I snap.

“Not at all.” Blake smiles.

“You’re balking me,” I growl.

“Well, his legs in those socks are balking me,” Blake hits back.

Gregory looks down at his legs. “What’s wrong with my legs?”

“Nothing, baby.” I smile. “Those legs are hot.” I grab Gregory and kiss him just to spite these two assholes.

“Yes . . . baby, hit me,” Gregory says as he grabs my behind again.

Ahhh . . . too far. You had to ruin it, didn’t you?

Hit me?

Good lord, this man is ridiculous.

“Gregory . . .” Blake stands. “Don’t touch her again.”

“I’ll do what I want with her,” Gregory fires back. “She is my date.”

“Yeah, well.” Blake glares at him. “You should probably back the fuck up.”

“Leave it,” Kayla whispers under her breath.

What the hell is going on here with these idiots?

My angry pulse begins to sound in my ears, and I run up and take my shot. It bounces into the gutter, and I don’t knock even one pin down.

Blake slow claps. “Well done.”

Fuck you.

I storm back and take a seat.

Kayla takes her shot, and of course, she gets a strike, and then it’s Gregory’s turn again.

He takes the ball out of the thing and puts his fingers in the holes.

“Show us what you’ve got,” Blake says.

They glare at each other, and some kind of hidden message passes between these two idiots.

Why do they suddenly hate each other? Did I miss part of the conversation?

“What are you fucking looking at?” Blake sneers.

“Your ugly face,” Gregory snaps back.

Uh-oh, shit’s turning south here.

“Yeah, well, don’t bother.”

Kayla drops her head to hide her smile . . . I swear to god, stop laughing, stupid.

“What is your problem?” Gregory spits.

Blake stands, and he and Gregory come face to face. “You’re my fucking problem.”

“You don’t like the fact that”—Gregory smiles darkly—“I’m just about to kick your ass at bowling.”

What the hell?

“Yeah, well . . . maybe I’m just about to kick your ass in the parking lot.” Blake pushes Gregory in the chest, and Gregory pushes him back.

“Stop it,” I snap.

Blake pushes Gregory again, and Gregory steps back. His huge, goofy bowling shoes get caught, and he stumbles back and trips over onto the floor.

“Blake,” I stammer. “What are you doing?”

“Get out.”

We all look up to see the manager of the bowling alley standing over us. She points at Blake, then at the door. “You have one minute to leave the premises, or I’m calling the police.”

Blake looks between us.

“Now!” she yells.

Blake gasps. “I didn’t do anything.”

“I’ve been watching you two the entire time,” the manager says. “Both of you, get out.”

“Sorry,” Kayla whispers.

Blake collects his things, and he and Kayla storm out as I stare after them.

“Are you going to help me up?” Gregory calls from the floor.

I look down to the giant dork in the long socks being all dramatic on the ground.

Ugh . . . Do I have to?

Fury—has there ever been a more toxic emotion?

I sit on my front steps with my coffee and watch as the sun comes up over the houses. But today, the sun isn’t golden. It doesn’t have a warm glow, and I most definitely am not basking in it.

Today, the sky is red.

Blake purposely upset me last night. It wasn’t an accident; it was a planned attack.

He was all over Kayla, which is whatever; he can do whatever he wants to do. But to blatantly be mean to Gregory and bait him into fighting?

What the hell?

This isn’t even the first time that he’s crossed the boundary. What about when he punched out John just for daring to knock on my door? I don’t know what’s going on with him lately, but it’s not good enough.

I’m so off him.

I wouldn’t put up with this from one of my other friends, so why am I putting up with it from Blake?

I hear his door, and I glance up to see him walk out the front of his house. He’s wearing his gray suit and tie and looks all handsome and professional for work. He’s holding his coffee cup in his hand and seems totally unaffected by the theatrics of last night.

Something comes over me, and before I can stop myself, I’m striding over to his house.

He glances up and gives me a slow, sexy smile, and I just want to slap it from his smart-aleck face.

“How dare you?” I growl.

He puts his weight onto his back foot, as if shocked by my venom. “Good morning, Rebecca,” he says casually as he puts his briefcase into the back seat.

“Do not good morning me,” I growl.

It’s then that I notice there is a small suitcase in his back seat.

“Where are you going?” I snap.

“A business conference, not that it’s any of your business.” He puts his hands on his hips. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Don’t dare act as if you don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Nope, can’t say that I do.”

Steam shoots from my ears. “Then let me spell it out for you, dumbo. You are a rude pig who has absolutely no boundaries.”

“No boundaries?”

“That’s right.”

“I think I would know if I had no boundaries.”

“You were too busy falling all over your date in a ridiculously over-the-top public display of affection to notice anything.”

“Are you jealous?” He raises an eyebrow.

“No. I’m not jealous of you and her. What I am is fed up.”

“I don’t like him. He’s not the man for you,” he snaps angrily.

“I don’t like him either,” I spit. “And I’m beginning to realize that perhaps there isn’t a man for me at all, because I thought I could count on you, but obviously now you’re proving that I can’t even do that.”

His eyes hold mine, but he remains silent.

“Well?” I put my hands on my hips. “What’s your excuse for being such an arrogant asshole last night?”

“I don’t need an excuse,” he replies calmly.

“Poor Kayla. She was so embarrassed by your behavior last night.”

“Ha.” He rolls his eyes. “I don’t care what Kayla thinks.”

“Well, you should. I thought she was your dream girl that you wanted to settle down with.”

From the very back of my psyche, a little voice starts screaming in the background.

Stop talking.

“There you go again, throwing Kayla in my face. I’m going to ask you one more time. Are you jealous of her?”

“I’m jealous that you’re nice to her. I’m jealous that you respect her enough to accept her opinion. And more than that, I’m jealous that she hasn’t seen your horrible side yet. Because I have, and let me tell you, Blake, it’s not nice. Quite frankly, I don’t think we should be friends anymore.”

His jaw ticks as his eyes hold mine. I know that I’ve just hit a nerve.

“I won’t be seeing Kayla again.”

It’s me who steps back this time, shocked. “Why not?”

“Because she’s not the girl I want.” He gets into his car and slams the door.

Who is?

“Move,” he growls, and I step back out of the way. He reverses the car out at high speed and takes off down the road in first gear. The car revs loudly as he disappears into the distance.

The street falls silent again.

Damn it.

Why are we fighting so much lately?

I blow out a defeated breath and turn to go back to my house. It’s then that I see Carol is standing there in her dressing gown and holding her garden hose.

As usual, she’s pretending to water her stupid garden. She doesn’t fool me. She comes out here every morning to replace out what’s going on in the street.

“Morning, Carol.” I wave and fake a smile as I stomp back toward my house.

“Morning.” She smiles. “Don’t worry about him, dear,” she calls. “Lovers’ quarrels make all men crazy.”

What the hell is she going on about now? I frown.

What is wrong with everybody?

“Of course, it’s no secret—when Blake said she’s not the girl he wants, it’s obvious to all who know him which one he does,” she calls.

“Who?”

“Oh, Rebecca.” She laughs. “Are you really this clueless?”

I stare at her as I begin to hear my heartbeat in my ears. “Obviously, yes, because I don’t know who his dream girl is.”

“It’s you, dear. I’m not sure if he even knows it yet, but it’s definitely you.”

Poor deluded Carol, the woman who thinks she knows everything but actually knows fucking nothing.

She’s a bona fide idiot.

“Have a nice day, Carol.” I wave, then walk back into my house and flop on the couch.

This is just great.

The day is a disaster, and it’s not even 7:00 a.m. yet.

The problem with anger is that it never lasts for long. It comes in like a tsunami, crashing and smashing everything in its way. But as the tide leaves and washes back out to sea, all that is left is a lot of debris and regret.

I don’t think we should be friends anymore.

What a horrible thing to say to somebody, even somebody you just want to be friends with. Let alone somebody that you have feelings for.

I sit in my classroom, and as the class plays freely, I stare out the window. I’m sad today. It’s like this big deadweight is sitting on my shoulders. I’m not here with my class; I’m miles away.

Blake is at a conference, and I can’t even go over and tell him I still want to be friends, because I do.

He’s a great friend. Things have just gotten a little out of hand lately, and I need to rein it in. But we obviously can’t double-date together anymore.

Carol’s words from this morning—about me being his dream girl—keep coming back to me.

Is she right?

Honestly, it feels like everybody these last two weeks has just been telling me how Blake and I are meant to be together, and I’m even feeling it myself.

But Blake was never in my plan.

And unfortunately, he has shown me a side of himself that scares the living crap out of me. He says mean things. He’s spontaneously crazy. Why the hell would I know that about a person and purposefully go back into that zone?

I wouldn’t; it’s stupid.

I’m just confused.

I wish I could talk this out with my friend, because that’s what I would normally do. The problem is that the friend I would normally talk this out with is the person I want to talk about.

“Miss Dalton,” Toby calls, pulling me out of my daydream.

“Yes, Toby.”

“Can we color now?”

You can do whatever you like, Toby. Hell . . . set the classroom on fire, for all I care.

“Sure, why not.” I fake a smile because, let’s be honest, I’m not teaching this class anything today.

They’re on their own.

I lie on my couch and stare at the television. It’s late. Past 9:00 p.m., and I should be getting ready for bed to try and get a good night’s sleep. Lord knows I haven’t slept in the three days since I told Blake I didn’t want to be friends anymore.

I’m flat.

Flatter than I’ve been in a long time.

And it’s weird because I had a very successful week. John called, and the documents are here. Tomorrow I’m meeting him, and he’s signing the house over to me. Another one of my images went viral. Of course, it’s from the same lot that Blake took at the wedding with the icing, but anyway, I made an extra $3,000.

This is a time for celebration. I’m getting everything I ever wanted.

I’m financially stable, the house is being signed over into my name, and yet all I feel is empty. All because I told Blake I don’t want to be his friend anymore.

I miss him already.

I get a lump in my throat as I think about life without him in it. It’s not something that I can even comprehend. Until this happened, I didn’t realize how much I depend on him. He was there to pick me up after John. In fact, he has been there to pick me up every day for the last year. He’s been such a supportive, wonderful friend, and the first little hiccup we have on a double date, I tell him I don’t want to be friends at all.

What kind of ungrateful, selfish witch does that?

I need to make this right.

I’m just going to text him and say sorry. I know that I probably broke something between us, but I feel like he broke it first.

At least texting will clear my conscience, and we can hopefully move past this and carry on as friends.

I take out my phone and think about what I should text him. Hmm, do I apologize, or do I just act like normal?

No, I just have to apologize. I text him.

Hi Blake.

I’m sorry for our fight.

I didn’t mean what I said.

My phone instantly rings, and the name Blake lights up the screen. Shit.

“Hello,” I answer.

“Hi, Bec.” His voice is soft and cajoling.

“Sorry to text so late,” I say.

“It’s okay. I was lying here in bed thinking about texting you anyway.” I get a vision of him lying in the dark in his hotel room.

We both hang on the line. The silence between us is deafening. A million words that I want to say but just never seem appropriate.

“Blake?”

“Yeah,” he replies softly.

“What would have happened if I gave you my number?”

He thinks for a moment. “You mean when I said before that if we met under different circumstances, I would have asked for your number?”

“Yes. If you asked for my number and I gave it to you, what would have happened?”

“Then I would have called you that very day, and I would have asked you out on a date that night . . . because I couldn’t have waited one more hour to see you. I would have been nervous before I picked you up, and you would have worn my favorite red dress, and I would have worn your favorite pair of blue jeans.”

My heart swells as I listen.

“And we would have gone to our favorite restaurant, Little Italy. You would have ordered the beef ragù, and I would have ordered the fettuccine,” he says softly.

I smile as I listen.

“And we would have drunk a bottle of red wine and ordered dessert, and then by the end of the tiramisu . . . I would have known that you were the one.”