Okay Tahoe, speak in English buddy. What the hell does that mean?
I’m sure he’s referring to the strawberry-blonde he took home. Is he? But what if he isn’t? What if he, too, remembers the kiss…? The mere thought of him remembering it gives me palpitations.
It’s already been on my mind every minute since last night.
I know we’re just friends and that he can’t be monogamous and doesn’t even want to. At least he’s never hinted that he wants to, and even if he did, I have no reason to believe he’d choose me as the girl he’d want to be monogamous with. The staring contests, the panties, the tour of the chocolate factory, last night—they don’t mean anything but friendship.
Even that kiss was a friendly one.
It wasn’t wet, or hungry; it was tender almost…curious. All of that equals friendly.
The toe curling wasn’t his fault, that was all mine, and I have to move on with the knowledge that my closest guy friend is a sex god and my body reacts to him. So what?
Still, I’m so haunted I can’t stop thinking about it. Trent has been sweet to me. Last night he told me he’d been waiting for a girl like me his whole life, that I’m funny and not frivolous. After being lied to for two years by your ex, it’s almost surreal to hear nice things and realize how much you want to believe them. I really like being around him, and I want to see how far we can go.
So I’m extra reluctant when I get a text from T-Rex:
Game tomorrow night. Come?
Shit! I nearly drop my phone.
I set it down and hurry to the customer who just sat to get her makeup done. I start with the foundation and silently work to enhance the best of her features.
She peers into the oval handheld mirror on the counter while we’re in the process. “Do you think it’s too much blush?” she asks.
“Hmm?”
I ease back from her face. Shit. She’s got red suns on her cheeks.
“We’ll get that fixed,” I say.
Thanks, Roth.
“And too much eye shadow? It’s a daytime event,” she says worriedly.
Brown rainbows over her eyes, um, yes, a tad too much.
“Right, uh…” I hurriedly dab with a cotton ball. “There. You’ll look great in the pictures.”
“There won’t be pictures.”
I look at her. Then dab at her face with more cotton balls. “I’m sorry, let me fix this.”
“Boy trouble?”
I purse my lips. I won’t discuss Tahoe with anyone. He’s my dirty secret, like a fantasy.
“Nah, just thinking about a friend,” I finally say.
“I have never gotten that color on my face except with a brush. Not a friend.”
I smile and wave at the lights above us. “These lights fluster anyone.”
I run away to get a good shade of lipstick to match the mess I made on her face, and I roll my eyes at myself and get back to finish her up, wondering what to say about the game.
*
That night from my landline, while on a conference call rehashing the party, Wynn and Rachel make fun of me because they saw me kiss Tahoe at midnight.
“What does that say, Gina?” Wynn insists as I check on the vegan pizza I’m cooking for Trent and me.
“That I was drunk?”
“No, really,” Wynn says. “What does it say?”
The fact that Wynn is so insistent makes me pause in the middle of my kitchen.
I pull out my cell and read his text, so determined for things not to mean anything at all, I finally answer:
Can’t. But drinks are on me if you win!
There.
Just what any buddy would answer.
“Emmett told me Tahoe spent quite a substantial amount of time last night questioning him about Trent. What he does. Last name. Family origins.”
“What?” I ask, surprised.
Rachel is quiet on the other end of the line.
And I fall just as quiet with this bit of information. But then I remind myself it doesn’t mean anything at all.
“He’s ape man like that, we’re friends, you guys know,” I finally say.
“Guys…” Rachel begins. “I’m four weeks pregnant.”
*
The news completely wipes away any other thoughts from my mind, which is probably a good thing. I tell Trent all about it when he arrives at my place, and I tell him we’re invited over to the Saints’ tomorrow night for a mini celebration.
“I wish I could, babe, but I have a dinner with a possible new client tomorrow. How about I meet you there?”
We talk a little while after dining on my pizza, but when I kiss him good night as he leaves and I finally go to bed, I keep staring at the ceiling, thinking of Rachel with a little baby in her arms.
Wynn and Emmett pick me up on their way to the party the next evening, and we all talk about it in the car.
“Huge step,” Emmett says. “Huge.”
“Emmett, I know, but isn’t it exciting?’” Wynn presses.