But hell, why was he getting angry? It didn’t matter what he wanted. Even if she had viewed him as a worthy partner, she was still AJ’s ex-girlfriend. Any relationship they had would always be haunted by AJ. It’d be a never-ending spiral of guilt.
Sex, on the other hand, well, he was perfectly capable of performing that particular task, even when riddled with guilt. He’d get an ass kicking from AJ regardless, so why not experience a few more earth shattering orgasms with Darcy while he had the chance?
“You want a fling? Fine. I’ll give you a fling,” he said gruffly.
Her eyes narrowed. “You will?”
“Why not? You’re right, we already crossed the line. We might as well keep being selfish and have some fun.”
“What about AJ? Are you going to tell him?”
“I’ll tell him when we’re done having fun.” If the guilt didn’t eat him alive first. “I’m going to lose my best friend either way, so why not delay the inevitable?”
Sadness washed over her face. “So, what, we’ll sneak around for a few weeks? You’re going to see AJ at the club four nights a week and not say a word to him?” She gave the decisive shake of her head. “You’re wrong. Losing him isn’t inevitable, but it will be if you see me behind his back. We can’t have a fling, Reed. Not unless we tell AJ.”
Reed clenched his teeth. Damn it, she was right. He wouldn’t be able to stomach it if he fooled around with Darcy on the sly. AJ deserved better than that. They all deserved better than that.
“All right. I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” Reed told her. “But depending on how the conversation goes, this fling you want might not work out.”
“I can live with that.” Her tone grew firm. “But AJ still needs to know.”
Reed nodded sadly. “Yes. He does.”
She nibbled on her lower lip again, a nervous habit he was growing accustomed to.
He couldn’t believe they were standing around talking about coming clean to AJ and asking his permission to engage in casual sex. It was fuckin’ ludicrous, and yet Reed had every intention of following through on it. Call him greedy, but he wanted to have his cake and eat it, too. He wanted to be honest with his best friend and find a way to keep AJ in his life.
But he also wanted Darcy.
He didn’t care if he only had her for a month, or a week, or even a day. Now that he’d gotten a taste of her, he wanted more. He was dying to explore the sexual chemistry between them. And yes, he didn’t need AJ’s permission to do that, but he didn’t feel right keeping secrets from his best friend.
“I’ll see if he can meet up tonight,” Reed said quietly. “If not, I’ll tell him tomorrow.” His gaze locked with hers. “The club closes at midnight during the week. Is that too late for you to see me?”
Uneasiness filled her eyes, along with the unmistakable gleam of anticipation. “No. It’s not too late.” Her voice was throaty.
“Even on a school night? You might be tired,” he pointed out.
“How about you just call me, and I can tell you whether I’m too tired for you to fuck me.” She let out a resigned sigh. “But I’m pretty sure the answer to that will never be no.”
…
Rather than heat up leftovers for dinner, Darcy decided to drop in on her mother. She was too wired to be alone at the moment and way too confused to be trusted with her own thoughts.
It didn’t take long to reach her mother’s house, a cute seventies-era rancher in the West Roxbury neighborhood. She pulled into the driveway and parked behind the blue pickup truck Carol Grant had been driving for years. Darcy rolled her eyes each time she saw the rusty old monstrosity. She’d pointed out to her mother on more than one occasion how much more difficult it was to maneuver the streets of Boston in the truck, but Carol refused to sell the pickup, no matter how many times her daughter tried to persuade her.
Darcy strolled into her childhood home without knocking and breathed in the familiar smell of pine cleaner and baked goods. The house had changed little in the forty or so years Carol had been living there. It boasted the same furniture, same wallpaper, even the same outdated kitchen counters.
Carol liked everything a certain way. She was predictable to the core and extremely averse to change, which was why Darcy always found it odd that her mom had married someone like Stuart Grant. Darcy’s dad was the farthest thing from predictable. His every decision, his every action, was the direct result of a whim. Sure, he was also the most charming man she’d ever met in her life, but he definitely wasn’t someone Darcy could rely on.
“Hey, Mom,” Darcy said, poking her head into the living room.
Carol was on the flower-patterned couch, a pair of knitting needles in her hands and a ball of blue yarn on the cushion beside her. “Darcy!” The older woman looked thrilled to find her daughter in the doorway. “You didn’t tell me you were coming by.”
“It was spur of the moment. I decided your leftovers would probably make for a better dinner than mine.” She sighed. “I swear, I follow all your recipes word for word, but my cooking never tastes half as good as yours.”