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Only With Me (With Me #2)(10)

By:Kelly Elliott


I went back to chopping up the basil. Charity had no problem sharing every detail about her life with me. I, on the other hand, shared very little. The less lies I had to remember the better. I told her my parents died when I was in high school and the rest of my family lived in Italy. Charity never really asked me anything about my childhood. Every now and then I would share something that I didn't think would hurt to share, but for the most part my life was not an open book like hers.

"What was his name?" I asked.

She looked up and smiled. "It's kind of funny. His name was Nicholaus too."



       
         
       
        

I dropped the knife and turned to her. My heart started pounding.

"Don't look at me like that, Gabi. I went to high school in New York. Your Greek dick is not the same as mine."

A sigh of relief washed over me before I snarled my lip at her.

Charity laughed. "I'm pretty sure that's a common Greek name."

"Yeah. I'm sure it is."

Her eyes roamed over me as she took a step back. "Um, you're not wearing that, are you?"

I looked down at my clothes. I had on sweats and a cropped black T-shirt.

"No. I'm going to change."

"What are you wearing?"

"Um, well. It might be a little . . . smutty."

She laughed. "Is it the black dress we bought a few weeks back?"

"You mean the black dress that you forced me to buy? Yes."

"Holy shit. Who are you and what did you do with my best friend? Inviting a guy to dinner, cooking for him, and dressing like a whore."

I wasn't surprised Charity was shocked by my actions. I was as well. But it was time for me to move on with my life. My cheeks heated as I let out a giggle. "I don't know! It's like my libido is in charge. Besides, it's been a while since I've dated."

She nodded. "She's tired of plastic. She wants real dick. Greek dick."

I rolled my eyes. "Why are we friends?"

"Because I speak the truth. Look at me and tell me you don't want some Greek dick."

Laughing, I grabbed the fresh pasta I had made earlier. "Don't you have a date to get ready for?"

"Yep, as a matter of fact I do. And this girl is hoping to get her own dick tonight."

Ugh. "Seriously? Keep your dick thoughts to yourself."

"When is he due? I'd fix your hair, but Scott's expecting me at seven."

The buzzer for the front door went off. Charity and I both looked at each other.

"Please tell me your date is picking you up."

She shook her head and smiled wide. "Nope."

"Oh crap."





I STARTED WRINGING my hands together nervously.

"What time did you tell him to be here?"

"Seven! It can't be him, it's just after six."

The buzzer went off again.

We both rushed over to the intercom, pushing and shoving each other out of the way to try to get to it first.

"Did you tell him six or seven?"

Pushing her as hard as I could, Charity jumped to avoid the chase lounge and fell. "I said seven! I'm positive." 

I pressed the button and took a deep breath and cried out, "H-hello?"

"Gabi? Is everything okay?"

I jumped back and covered my mouth. Whirling around, I looked at Charity who was now sitting in the chair, wearing an I told you so expression. "Are you going to answer him, Gabi?"

"Right!" I quickly hit the button again. "Um, yes. This is Gabi. Everything is fine. I um, I stubbed my toe. Nic?"

"Yeah, it's Nic. I hope you don't mind me getting here early. I couldn't wait to see you again."

My hand dropped to my side as Charity walked over to me and whispered, "Oh hell. He wants nookie too! Greek dick, meet Italian pussy."

"Shut up!" I said while I pushed her away from me.

Lifting her hand, she called out, "I'll be in my room with Liv!"

Turning back to the intercom, I pressed it again. "Sorry, my roommate was talking to me. Come on up, I'll buzz you in."

I stood there like an idiot as I stared at the door. There was no time to change my clothes or touch-up my makeup.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

The knock on the door caused me to jump. Taking in a deep breath, I walked over and opened it. Clearly I was not prepared for the sight before me because I gasped. If you looked up Greek god in the dictionary, there would be a picture of Nic Drivas next to it.

My eyes leisurely roamed his body. He wore jeans, cowboy boots, and a tight long-sleeve black shirt. He was holding a bottle of wine in one hand and flowers in the other. I didn't even care I was ogling him.