Page 77 of Dirty Like Dylan

“She’s right,” Laura said, all sympathy. “Remember Robbie Whatshisname?”

“Masterson,” I squeezed out.

“Right.” Now it was Laura’s turn to reach over and squeeze my hand. “I think those two rock stars just sent your books flying all over the hallway, sweetie.”

“Yup,” my sister said.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes again. Just barely. But the fucked up thing was, they were right. At least, the part about the books and Robbie Masterson.

I did like Robbie. I liked him in ways that made me feel things that, until then, I didn’t even know I could feel. And I had no fucking clue what to do about it.

Now, I liked both Dylan and Ashley, and I was just about as clueless.

Chapter Fifteen

Amber

As it turned out, I didn’t have much time to get a clue. Because about an hour later, Dylan showed up at my sister’s front door and asked if he could take me to dinner.

No sign of Ashley.

Laura, who’d answered the door, gave me an incredibly pointed and salacious look behind his back.

Liv conspicuously shut her mouth and narrowed her eyes at me.

For about an hour, they’d both been doing their best to dole out sound relationship advice. However, as shitty as I was, historically, with the whole relationship thing, I wasn’t about to put a whole hell of a lot of stock in the heterosexual dating advice of two lesbians.

Kinda felt like the blind leading the blind.

“I’ll… um… just get cleaned up,” I told him, backing away as the three of them stood staring at me, Dylan looking me over, slowly, in that way of his, a crooked smile on his lips. Then I gathered up my ratty travel backpack and left him there. He looked perfectly at ease in my sister’s foyer, chatting with her about the Underlayer shoot as I hightailed it upstairs.

Did Dylan Cope just ask me on a date? Again, I totally wasn’t sure.

Liv and Laura kept insisting he was straight. They also seemed to think he was interested in me. If he really was straight, the fact that he’d A) hired me to photograph his house, B) taken me to an exclusive, swanky party at his lead singer’s house, and now C) invited me out to dinner—alone—definitely suggested he might be interested.

But then, of course, there was that whole thing where I’d slept in his bed with him—oh, and his best friend—and he’d never even tried anything. And then I’d had hot sex with his best friend.

Because apparently I couldn’t just keep things simple.

Mental note to future self: when you like a guy and you don’t want to complicate things, don’t have hot sex with his best friend.

Even if his best friend is insanely hot and has a pierced dick.

I stuck my tongue out at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and gave up a little growl of frustration.

Because only I could screw myself like this.

I really had nothing to get “cleaned up” with, but as I stared at myself in the mirror, I found myself frowning. I tussled my hair a little with my fingers and frowned again.

Then I headed down the hall to the master bedroom to plunder some of Laura’s makeup, knowing she wouldn’t mind. Actually, she’d insist on it. I wasn’t planning to go nuts or anything. Maybe just a little blush?

Laura bounced in just as I was rooting through her makeup drawers in the bathroom, trying to decide if I should put on some lip gloss.

“Nervous?” she asked.

“Nope.”

Of course I was.

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