Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
I cock an eyebrow at him, ignoring Holt’s snicker. “And this works for you? Because that sounds lame as hell.”
“Chicks love that shit,” Marek replies with resounding confidence.
“Josie’s not like that,” I say stubbornly as I set my bottle back down. “She’s not into that stuff.”
“All women are into that stuff,” Holt says, acting as if he knows what he’s talking about, when in truth I don’t think either of these bozos have ever had a serious relationship before. They’re as whorish as I am when it comes to women.
I stand from the bench and grab two more plates to add to the bar. “No offense, guys, but Josie isn’t like other women.”
“Whatever,” Marek says dismissively. “I think you’re just chicken to try for something.”
Okay, that might hit a little close to the unease that this subject is causing within me. Because if I’m wrong, and Josie isn’t receptive, then I stand to ruin what has become a really, really good friendship. I love hanging with her, and I don’t want to give that up if she ends up getting weirded out by whatever move I might make on her.
“You could get her drunk,” Holt suggests. “Alcohol will lower inhibitions and all that, you know?”
“Enough,” I growl at both my buds. “I’m not getting her drunk and I’m not doing romance with her.”
“Then you’re not getting laid,” Marek points out.
“It’s not about getting laid,” I say, and then immediately regret it. Not because it’s not true, because that’s not my main goal with Josie. I mean…do I want her in my bed? Hell yes. But that’s not the driving desire to see if there’s something more.
I just want…more of her.
But I regret saying that, because I know damn well this is going to cause these guys to laugh hysterically. And right on cue, both of them start cackling. I listen to it for a few minutes while I clamp the weights on and position myself back on the bench.
Marek spots me again, all while laughing.
I let them have their fun, instead allowing the anger to bubble inside of me to fuel my reps. I knock out twelve solid and rack the weight again. When I sit up, they’re still chuckling.
Finally, Holt asks me, “Since when is it about something other than getting laid?”
“For you two boneheads, never,” I grit out.
And I leave it at that.
I don’t bother to tell them I have too much respect for Josie just to want that from her. She’s in another league from the women I’ve been with and would never be satisfied with meaningless sex.
What I won’t ever admit to them, and am barely able to admit to myself, is I don’t think I could be satisfied with casual fucks with Josie either. I think about having sex with Josie and my imagination never just ends with a satisfying orgasm. God help me, and perhaps I’m turning into a woman, but I think about sleeping in bed with her all night and waking up with her in the morning to drink coffee and chat over a puzzle.
Fuck. I’m a woman.
My phone buzzes, as I have it on vibrate, and I glance down to where it’s lying on the ground near my towel. I can see Josie’s name like a shining beacon.
I grab it, flipping to the texts, and see her message. Knock knock.
There’s no stopping the smile that comes to my face as I write back. Who’s there?
Amos.
I glance up at Marek, who is now back at the squat rack getting ready to spot Holt. Amos who?
A mosquito, she types back, followed by the laughing with tears emoji.
You’re a dork. And I very much like her dorkiness.
True, she responds, and then adds another line. I’m just on break and thought I’d say hi. Workout going good?
Of course she knows I’m working out because I’d texted her when I left my house to let her know I was coming here. Why I did that, I have no idea, although I suspect it was just to incite a response from her. Josie and I have become frequent texters of jokes, general observations, and “Hi, how are you”s.
Workout is going good. Want to eat dinner at my place tonight?
I cringe even as I send the text, because that was done without any thought and being fueled slightly by Holt’s and Marek’s ridiculous suggestions that I should romanticize an evening with Josie.
Pizza, beer, and puzzles? She writes back.
I cringe again. That’s all she clearly expects from me.
I’m cooking dinner, I respond.
I wait for her response and then I wait some more. I glance over at Holt as he strains under the immense weight on his bar, veins bulging on his forehead.
My phone vibrates and I look down at her response. I try not to read hesitation in it, but I do. Sure. That sounds good.