“So…” I said, and blew out a heavy breath.
“Last night was crazy, right? Where the hell did you end up? I always knew you had it in you.” Trish winked. “That’ll show Brock for never calling you.”
I closed my eyes to block out her voice. It was too early, and I was dangerously undercaffeinated for this conversation.
“I didn’t screw anyone.” My eyes flicked to Abel and back to Trish, who was pulling sugar packets out of the dish on the table.
“Sure you didn’t.”
“I didn’t,” I replied angrily.
Abel cleared his throat and leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. He didn’t mention where I’d been, so neither did I. I felt like he was challenging me to tell Trish the truth.
“I mean, I would have, but he couldn’t get it up,” I whispered. Trish giggled, and Abel’s eyes narrowed.
“Can you really blame the guy if you don’t turn him on?” His head tilted to the side.
“I guess not. I mean…he did seem kind of gay.”
“Here you go.” The barista dropped off our drinks, and I picked mine up and blew into the little drinking hole to cool it down a bit. She smiled at Trish, and I couldn’t help laugh as she acted as if she were the only one around. Her beauty wasn’t something that went unnoticed, unlike me.
“Turning men gay—is that like a superpower, or did it take years of practice?” Abel smirked as he picked up his cup and took a sip. The barista’s eyes grew wide, but she quickly recovered, smiling brightly as she left the table.
“So…who did you go home with last night, Abel?” Trish asked casually.
“No one special.” He stared across the table at me.
“Loser,” I groaned, as I rolled my eyes.
“I may be a loser, but I fuck like a champ. You should try it sometime. Maybe you wouldn’t be so cranky.”
I wondered how Trish actually got home if he wasn’t the one to take her, like he’d promised.
“Maybe we can go out again tonight…just you and me?” she asked him with a flirtatious grin.
I screeched as I tilted my cup just a little too far and burned my bottom lip.
“Sure. Sounds fun.” I glanced up to find Abel’s eyes on me and that shit‐eating grin—the one he wore so often—firmly in place.
“Great. I know the perfect place.” Trish rambled excitedly about her plans for tonight, and I was thankful when she had drunk enough coffee to stop talking and go to the bathroom.
“How did she get home last night?”
“Cab.” He took a drink of his coffee.
“She could have ended up anywhere. You promised. You’re a promise‐breaking liar.”
“Compound name‐calling. Multitalented.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
Abel leaned forward, his voice low and serious. “I couldn’t leave you. You needed someone to look out for you, and Trish couldn’t. I made sure she was safe. It’s not like she hasn’t done this a million times.”
“So have I.”
“No.” He took another sip as he relaxed back in his seat.
“Yes, I have. All the time.”
He shook his head. “When you showed up at the party the other night, you looked terrified, like you’d stepped into some hostel in a foreign country that drugs unsuspecting tourists so they can sell their organs on the black market.”
“You got all that from one look?”
“It was one hell of a look, Kettle.”
I relaxed back in my seat and drank a sip from my cup as Trish made her way back to the table.
“I just had the best idea.” She clapped her hands together as she slid into her seat. “What if we hook you up with Adam? He’s cute.”
“I think I’d rather stay home and read.”
“No one would rather read than have fun.”
“Reading is fun,” I said defensively, but Trish just giggled. “Didn’t you already sleep with Adam?”
Trish’s eyes went wide with embarrassment. Abel cleared his throat as his gaze danced between the two of us.
“I have some work to do, but I can pick you up around eight,” Abel said, and Trish agreed with her pouty, overly pink lip pulled between her teeth.
“Where do you work?” I asked.
“Not a job, just work to do.”
“Mysterious,” Trish said with a smirk.
“More like suspicious,” I mumbled into my cup.
Chapter Eight
Many Talents
The day dragged on painfully slow after Abel dropped us off at home. I took a long bubble bath and began a new book, but the hours crawled by. I don’t know why I wished time away. It wasn’t like tomorrow ever held something exciting and new. I wasn’t working toward anything. I had college, but I had no clear direction and had decided to be undeclared for my freshman year.