She stuck to her key and pen, and I decided to let the designer have free reign on my right arm.
I didn’t even realize what exactly he’d drawn until the next morning, when a snooty kid walked up to me on the bus and asked me why I had the State of Arizona on my arm…
Track 16. Love Story (3:27)
“Hello?” Josh waved his hand in front of my face. “Hello?”
“What?”
“Are you going to be my wingman tonight or what?” He sipped his drink. “I get the blonde and you get the brunette.” He pointed his head toward the girls in the booth across from us.
“Not interested,” I said. “But I’ll stick around for another hour or so.”
“Not interested?” He looked dumbfounded. “Do you see the brunette? Do you see her body?”
I looked over again and she waved at me, blushing.
“I do see her,” I said.
“So, what’s the problem? Has your mission to get laid as much as possible this summer changed between last week and now?”
An image from last night, one of Ari straddling me in my car, crossed my mind. “Not really…”
“Good.” He finished his beer and slammed the empty bottle onto the table. “Then be my wingman.” He stood up and I followed suit, walking over to the other booth.
“Good evening, ladies.” Josh signaled to the waiter as he sat down. “I’m Josh, and this is my good friend, Carter. Do you mind if we join you?”
They both agreed and I smiled my way through the first round of drinks and pointless topics, not paying any of them much attention. My mind was elsewhere, mainly on Arizona.
Ever since that day at the marina, We’d spent the last few nights at my place—watching her cooking shows and discussing random things like normal, but slipping in a brand new abnormal state of sex at the end of the night. Each and every time with her was more memorable than the last, and I’d never yearned to have someone so many times in a single night before.
Besides a few random messages she’d sent me this morning, we hadn’t spoken much at all. She had an all-day cooking exam at the culinary school, and they’d told her that they wouldn’t kick her out for a change.
Looking at my watch, I figured she should be home by now, so in the middle of the brunette telling me that she’d have her apartment all to herself tonight, I texted Ari.
How did your test go?
I think I aced it.
Her response was instant.
Really f-ing aced it.
Good for you. Did you celebrate with your classmates yet?
Ha! You know everyone in the class hates me. LOL (I’m a “thief,” remember?) I just came home and decided to bake myself an éclair.
You only baked one?
Yes. Only ONE. :) What are you up to?
Out with Josh, role-playing wingman.
Okay.
Okay, what?
Nothing. How is it going?
You know you don’t really care how it’s going.
If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked… How. Is. It. Going?
It’s going so well that I’d rather leave and come to your house to celebrate your exam with you.
Well, you can’t.
And why is that?
Because I don’t want company right now, especially not from some guy I slept with last night, some guy who is now being a wingman so he can sleep with someone else!
Ari…
CARTER…
Does the all caps mean you’re upset?
NO. NOT AT ALL.
I smiled.
In that case…First of all, I’m not “some guy,” I’m your best friend. Second of all, did you not catch what I typed previously…“role-playing”? Pretty sure I would tell you if I was seriously looking for someone else…I always have, have I not?
…
If I can’t celebrate with you in person, can you at least pick up when I call you after this? I’d like to have at least one intelligent conversation today.
…
What does the “…” mean?
They mean yes.
But no to me coming over tonight?
HELL NO to you coming over tonight.
“Carter?” Josh suddenly cleared his throat to get my attention. “Can I talk to you by the bar for a minute?”
“Sure.” I followed him out of the booth and into a small hallway. “What do want to talk about?”
“Two things: One, tonight you’ve been a terrible wingman. Absolutely fucking terrible.”
“I told you hours ago that I didn’t feel like doing this tonight.”
“Two…” He ignored my comment. “It’s actually a good thing. Now that the brunette is convinced that you’re as fun as a dead fish—”
“Her name is Farrah.”
“Same thing.” He shrugged. “They both want to come home with me…Just me.” He stood there smiling, nodding his head slowly.
“Are you waiting for some applause?” I asked.
“No.” He held back a laugh. “I just need you to hold off on coming home until later—a lot later. You know, so we can use the living room, and those floor to ceiling windows. I’ve always wanted to do something with those.”
“Why can’t I just go home first? Like, right now?”
“Because I just paid the check and they’re more than ready to leave now.” He gave me a pointed look. “More than ready.”