"I'm kind of dating someone, but I still don't know where it's going." Maybe I'm downplaying it, and maybe it's the truth. After all, Ty and I are not officially together. We haven't discussed it yet.
"Do I know him?"
I take a big gulp of my tasteless coffee, then clear my throat. "The MMA guy." I reduce Ty to what he does, and hate myself for it.
He is not the MMA guy. He's the guy who makes me laugh and giggle and see the world with more vivid colors. Oh, yeah, and come twice in twenty minutes, which no one has ever done before.
"Wilder?" Shane’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Dawson is married and Jesse has a girlfriend, and Shane is freaking good at math, so he gets it quickly. He snorts. "Well, that's a random hookup."
Okay, that's good. He is taking it like it's a joke, not like he wants to kill me, or unfriend me, for that matter.
"I get what you're saying,” I say. “We're pretty different."
Shane offers a grim smile. "Ain't that the fucking truth. So you chose him over me?"
I shake my head. "No. Never. You're my best friend." My voice is high-pitched as I hide behind my coffee cup.
There's an awkward silence before he gets to his feet, offering me his hand, which I take and jump up beside him.
"I don't like what I'm hearing here, at all. This conversation isn't over, Blaire. When is Izzy coming back?" he asks out of nowhere, his voice still laced with annoyance.
"Next Sunday. Why?"
Shane takes a few long strides, walking ahead of me. "Just wanna make sure I never bump into her when he hang out. Thanks for the heads up."
It’s five weeks into my relationship with Ty, and Izzy is due to come back from her world tour as an Elizabeth’s Passion Fairy. She’s even gotten her wings and is now one of the signature models of the lingerie label. She’s as proud of her new wings as if she had won a Nobel Peace Prize.
I arrange to pick her up from the airport with Ty, because the drive into SFA is a bitch. I text her a few hours beforehand, warning her not to bring the volatile subject of Shane up.
Hey. So, just so you know, Ty has a weird thing with Shane. He thinks he’s hitting on me, and with Shane's weird-ass behavior lately, he’s probably right too. So please don't mention Shane when we pick you up. It's bad enough to get groped by your BFF out of nowhere. Don't need to deal with more mess than necessary. Thanks, scrawny ass. x.
Ty double-parks outside baggage claim and yanks me by the collar into an eager make-out session. Ever since we had sex, we've been going at it like bunnies. Sex is a new world to me, and I'm eager to explore it from all angles (and positions). It's epic, it's soothing, and it's absolutely mind-blowing. Ty must share my feelings about our sex life, because I almost lose my top, and only come to my senses when I realize his hand is rubbing my sweet spots and I’m about to climax.
“We need to stop before we get arrested.” I let out a moan.
“Tinted windows.” He raps one finger on his side window, his tongue swirling on my earlobe. “Remember?”
How can I forget? It’s so mafia I feel like dying every time I drive in this shiny toy.
My phone rings, and I peel Ty off reluctantly. “Izzy.”
“Babe!”
“Where’s your skinny ass today?”
My sister’s voice pipes triumphantly. “Home.”
I bite back a smile.
“So where the hell are you?” Izzy brings me back to planet earth, showering me with a stream of shouts. “I’m freezing this ass in here! You know I’m too skinny to handle San Fran's summer drizzle!”
“Huh?” I guess my hearing is impaired since all my blood went straight to my crotch from that earlier make-out session. “What do you mean you can’t see me? I’m right here.”
Ty, who is sitting in the driver’s seat, lifts one eyebrow, as if to say Well, she is a model, so she ought to be dumb as dirt, right?
“Hey Blaire, I’m pretty sure I would have seen you if you were out here. Our pink car stands out like a liberal in Mississippi.”
I smack my forehead. “Sorry, Izz. Ty's ride is a black Hummer.” I cringe as I give her further description. "With...skulls and flames and stuff."
“What the…” Her voice trails off. I spot my thinner, taller look-alike twin from the rearview mirror. She is wearing black leggings, an oversized gray sweater and a hat she stole either from Blake Lively or a seventeenth-century widow. She pushes her luggage fast, waving frantically at the car.
I flash her my widest smile, while wondering if I possess the same eccentric qualities that make her so quirky. Ty unlatches his seatbelt and reads my mind instantaneously.