“Does he wear plaid shirts and drive a red Porsche?”
“Har. Although he does bear a passing resemblance to Jake Ryan. Hmm…I wonder if I could get him to rent a Porsche and wait for me in front of a church.” Fi nibbles her bottom lip as if picturing this Sixteen Candles reenactment.
“You’d actually have to attend church,” I say. “Which would put you at risk of being struck by lightning.”
“As if you can talk.” She pins me with her stare. “I give it one month before you jump Gray’s bones. And that long only because I know you’re stubborn.”
“Shouldn’t you be napping?”
“I’ve napped enough. I may puke sometime in the near future, but I’ll be sure to let you know when.”
Making a gagging face, I swing my legs over the side of the bed. “Brilliant. I’m going to shower this airplane funk off me.”
Fi’s voice follows me as I escape to the sanctity of my bathroom. “Glad you’re home, Iv!”
“Glad to be home, Fi,” I call back.
“I dare you not to think of that sexy mountain of man while you wash your lady bits!”
I slam the door on her evil cackle.
* * *
Gray
“So.” Drew’s voice comes at me from beyond the loud pounding of my heart in my ears. “Tell me about this Ivy.”
I glance at my best friend. I’m at his house because I’m finally getting my truck back. Anna borrowed her mom’s car, which is automatic, and he no longer needs mine. I made a half-hearted protest that he could keep the truck longer, but truth is I’ve missed the old girl. Drew, on the other hand…
The fucker is kicking back on a sun chair, drinking some fruity drink Anna made for him while I bust my ass sprinting back and forth between two cones set ten yards apart. Fucking shuttle drills. My thighs burn, my lungs are on fire. And still I go faster. I grunt as I crouch down to touch a cone before launching back up to book it to the next.
“She’s not…‘this’ Ivy,” I pant out. Dip, touch, turn, sprint. “And what’s to tell? She’s…” I touch the next cone. “My friend.”
“Hmmm…” Drew takes a pull on his straw—Jesus, the drink has an umbrella. I swear he put one in it to fuck with me. It’s forty degrees out here, and he’s acting like he’s on a beach somewhere. “And yet you’re attached to your phone like it’s become your second dick.”
“Don’t see a problem with that.” I grunt. “Two dicks, twice the fun.” One. More. Set. Fuck.
Drew watches me with that stare of his that always sees more than it should. There’s an evil light in his eyes that looks way too pleased for comfort. “Yeah, as much as I’d love to discuss your disturbing, multi-dick fantasies—and believe me, we really ought to discuss that issue—I’d rather talk about your new girlfriend.”
I race through my final drill, panting as I grab my bottle of Gatorade then guzzle it with enough zeal that sticky rivulets of drink run down my chin and drip on to my bare chest. Sweat stings my eyes and I ache all over, a hum of sensation that causes me to shake. Is it sick that I love the feeling, love pushing my body to the brink? It’s as close as I can get to the aftermath of hot sex without the awkwardness of “thanks babe, see ya” getting in the way.
Drew tosses me a towel while the bottle is still at my lips. I pluck the towel from the air without looking then use it to wipe my face. When I chuck the damp towel back at him, Drew lurches to his feet, the long cast encasing his left leg making the move awkward.