Sex Says(27)

I refused to think that way. I refused to think about his stupid blue eyes or sexy smirk or the way his natural confidence was like a homing device for my vagina.

He was competition.

And he was going the fuck down.





My cheeks started to ache as I smiled for the fiftieth time in a twenty-minute period.

I hadn’t enjoyed myself this much in a long time, as evidenced by the out of practice muscles of my face, and I didn’t think the cause had ever been a woman.

Sure, I’d enjoyed quick bouts of lust and superficial interest, but I’d never made it beyond the surface layer of a woman’s personality without becoming disenchanted.

For some reason, this was different. Lola was different.

And in some backward way, the fact that she was so upset about my having a column validated my qualification in my mind.

If she’s that passionate over my opinion, there has to be some substance to it, right?

When Rhonda had first made the offer, I’d honestly been stupefied. An outlet responsible for reporting something as substantial as the news wanted me to be an employee? Surely, someone had gotten their wires crossed.

I didn’t know much of anything about relationships—I’d honestly never been in a serious one. All I had in my arsenal was power of perception and a whole lot of tributary connections to people with relationships, and I’d told Rhonda as much.

Interestingly enough, she’d been even more thrilled.

Perhaps she thought she’d be able to mold me into what she wanted more easily since I had no formal background in the subject or the trade of writing, but I wasn’t worried about that.

Because not only did she not know who she was dealing with, she also didn’t realize the reason I was so amenable, shapeable even today, was because she’d played into giving me exactly what I wanted.

Lola Sexton.

I smiled as I clicked the button at the bottom of her email to reply once again.



To: Lola Sexton

From: Reed Luca

Subject: Friends

Sorry, LoLo, but I refute your assertion that we aren’t friends. We’re the best of, and it’s only going to get better. After all, I need to know you better than anyone, right? How else am I going to write all of my columns?



Sitting back, I cracked my knuckles before crossing my hands together behind my head. If she was this fun all the time, I was going to have to figure out a way to see her more often.



To: Reed Luca

From: Lola Sexton

Subject: Enemies

We wouldn’t be friends if we were the last two people left in San Francisco. I’d find one side of a hill and you’d find a way to argue that the other side was better, and that wouldn’t get either one of us to the top.

Just face the facts: Not everyone likes you.



I laughed at her words that were meant to wound and pounded my fingers across the keys.



To: Lola Sexton

From: Reed Luca

Subject: Compromise

What’s that thing people always say? About compromise being good? Fuck if I can remember because I think it’s garbage.

We’re friends—whether you like it or not.



A response popped up before I could even relax.

Jesus. How many words does she type per minute?



To: Reed Luca

From: Lola Sexton

Subject: Frenemies

They say it nurtures a relationship.

Since I’m completely against nurturing any relationship with you, you don’t have to worry. We won’t be friends; we won’t be frenemies…we’re ENEMIES.





We’d see about that. I pulled up one final pane to reply and worked on something I knew would really set her on kill. If I was going to write the best first column I could, I was going to need a good jumping-off point. Wasn’t I?



To: Lola Sexton

From: Reed Luca

Subject: Lovers

Nurtures a relationship, huh? Maybe compromise isn’t so bad, after all. And do you know why I think that, LoLo?

Because I think you and I have a long way to go, and it doesn’t end in friends. I think you and I are headed to a place way at the top of that hill you think we can’t climb, and I think we’re going to get there at the same time.

And as far as climax goes, isn’t it always better to finish together?

Talk to you soon.

Love,

Reed



My chest rose and fell a little faster as I waited for her reply. Time ticked so slowly that I smoked two cigarettes, three, and then lost count. When nothing appeared after a pack’s worth of pining, real disappointment set in.

God, what is that awful ache in my chest?

Maybe Miss Sexton wasn’t going to play my games and be a part of my story. Maybe she had a tipping point, and I’d just pushed her to it. Maybe she really was turned off by a liar and troublemaker.

Maybe she really was my enemy.

I scratched at my throat as I worked through coming to terms with having to forfeit this one. I played by my own rules, but you can’t play with someone if they won’t enter the game.