Sex Says(69)

And I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it one bit.

“You’re quiet,” the guy standing beside my chair said while looking directly at me.

I had to work not to roll my eyes. “It’s because I’m a very shy person.”

“Cough, Bullshit, Cough,” Jen muttered.

I shot a glare in her direction, but this guy seemed completely oblivious.

“I like shy girls,” he added with a sly grin.

“What about shy lesbian girls?” I asked with a saccharine smile. “Do you like those, too?”

“She’s not a lesbian,” Abby announced on a laugh, and then her eyes met mine. “Stop telling people you’re a lesbian, ya weirdo.”

“This conversation makes me want to be one,” I muttered.

Was it so hard for women to just enjoy a night out together without random, annoying men trying to find their next one-night-fuck? It was so obvious when it came to guys with those intentions, it was written all over their faces.

And these three guys all but screamed, “Let’s fuck.”

God, what was with my friends?

I hated what I was observing. My friends acting like people they weren’t, hiding the very best parts of their personalities with these façades. The second these guys had come to our table, they’d become completely different people—besides Simone. She was always fake and shallow and befitting of the attention she tried to garner. She’d just added a seductive purr that was more black cat screeching than playful sex kitten.

But seriously, why couldn’t my friends just be themselves?

Why put on an act?

I was starting to think, when it came to dating, the real art of conservation was dead. What used to be rare and finely sculpted words had morphed into overproduced one-liners.

Most men didn’t care or didn’t know how to actually converse with a woman. And so many women wanted to find their “person” so badly they ignored the red flags.

Women overlooked the fact that a man saying things like, “You look really hot in that dress” was, in reality, a very objectifying thing to say, and it said a lot about the person saying it. Instead, they took it as a compliment.

Or, they portrayed themselves as someone they weren’t.

Was it so hard just to be yourself? And more importantly, why would you even want to be anyone but yourself?

“Be you. Not what some faceless Simon behind a computer tells you to be—and not what the person you’re trying to impress wants.”

The exact words Reed had said in his YouTube video filled my brain.

Oh. My. God.

That cocky, know-it-all bastard was right.

Reed Luca was right. Goddammit, he’s wonderful.

Jen’s too fake, too fucking cheery laugh filled my ears, and I fought the urge to groan out loud. Abby and Simone joined in, laughing far too hard at something one of the Three Suited Stooges had said.

Yeah. I didn’t want to be a part of this charade, and since Reed Luca was the reason for my epiphany, it was only fair he be the one to help me get the fuck out of it.

I pulled out my phone and shot him a text message.



Me: I need your help. Call my phone with a fake emergency.



His response chimed in a few minutes later.



Reed: I thought you were at dinner with your friends?



Me: I am. Simone is also here.



Reed: Ah, now I understand.



Me: So, you’ll bail me out of this?



Reed: Sure thing, Roller Skates.



Me: Oh, and can you come pick me up, too?



After tapping send, I crossed my fingers under the table in hopes he wouldn’t let me down on this one. I needed to get the hell out of Dodge.

I also wanted to see Reed.

But minor details, right?

I mean, a girl could only handle so many epiphanies in one night.



Reed: You’re a demanding little thing tonight, huh?



Me: Yep.



Reed: Where are you?



Me: Marlowe’s



Reed: I’ll only do it under one condition.



Me: What’s that?



Reed: Before you leave the restaurant, pick up a to-go order for me at the bar.



Me: You love their fries, too?



Reed: Like you wouldn’t believe. They have amazing burgers, too.



Me: Mind ordering two of those meals? We haven’t even ordered our food yet.



Reed: At your service, Princess Lo.



Me: Thanks, smartass.



The initial trickles of guilt filtered into my belly, and I started to question my decision to just up and leave my friends. But when I glanced around the table and it was apparent no one even noticed my complete retreat from the conversation, that guilt started to subside. And when Jen started laughing like a hyena over some cheesy joke one of the men had told the table, that guilt washed the fuck out to sea.

Yeah. I had no shame in this game.