Page 6 of Puck Sweat Love

Drake: Steph, I know you’re up there. Your window is open.

Drake: Only YOU would have your window open when it’s 80 degrees outside.

Drake: Steph?

Drake: Stephanie?

Drake: STEPHANIE LOVE ANSWER ME PLEASE. Are you napping?

Drake: Sorry to wake you if you’re napping, but I need to see you. It’s important.

Drake: Really important.

Drake: Like life-changing important.

Drake: I’m literally right downstairs. All you have to do is buzz me in.

Drake: I have something for you.

Drake: Come on, I’m burning up out here. It’s hot as balls today.

Drake: Please? Just answer?

Drake: Are you still mad about that thing with Willa?

Drake: I told you, baby, it wasn’t my fault. She was being super flirty and acting like she was dying for me to ask her to hook up. I swear, I thought you two had talked and decided to share or something. I mean crazier things have happened.

Drake: Women are wild these days.

Drake: Especially in Portland. You would not believe some of the kinky shit I hear about. It’s like…normal now to have threesome and throuples and shit. I was just being normal!

Drake: Come on, Steph. Buzz me in. The neighbors are staring…

I rollmy eyes so hard it makes my brain ache a little. Drake Barrow—real estate sleaze, professional liar, and the human equivalent of a car crash I’ve had a stupidly hard time looking away from.

He is, without question, the worst decision I’ve made in my adult life.

Yet somehow, I can’t quite bring myself to block his number. Knowing him as well as I do—all his bluster is just a cover up for how deeply insecure he truly is—it just feels mean.

And I don’t enjoy being mean.

With that in mind, I type a quick response:

Stephanie: I’m not home. And I’m busy. Please stop texting me. We’re broken up, remember? For real and forever, this time. And Willa was not flirting with you, btw. She doesn’t even like men.

The response is immediate:

Drake: Dude, I know! That’s why I thought you two had worked something out together to like…share. That we would both share YOU, because you’re the sexiest. But honestly, I was high and not thinking straight. But I’m crystal clear now. I promise. I haven’t smoked in a week. I’m locked the fuck in now, baby, and you’re all I can think about. Please, Steph, I’m sorry. I promise I never meant to hurt you or cheat on you. I was just high and confused.

For one ridiculous moment,I feel my resolve waver. Not because I believe his nonsense about “sharing” me or that we’re ever going to work as a couple, but—God help me—I’m frisky. And Drake isn’t bad in bed. Not great, but not even close to bad.

Maybe it would be okay to invite him over one last time…

Just to take the edge off before I commit to a life of celibacy as I get my dating house in order…

But no…

I shake my head.

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