Page 15 of The Friend Situation

Maybe Lexi is right about you and Carlee.

Weston

I thought you weren’t getting involved?

Easton

I’m not.

I reluctantly focus back on the phone conversation Trever is having a couple of barstools down. Carlee’s empty seat is between us, and I’m impatiently waiting for her to return aftertexting her.

“Nah, man. I can’t make it tonight. I’m going home with someone. Yeah, the girl I met a few weeks ago,” Trever says with a chuckle.

His casual tone irritates me. I can’t believe she’d been on more than one date with this douche.

“Yeah. Gorgeous. Tiny thing with a very nice ass. Perky tits. Her nipples have been hard for me all night. I think I could fall in love with this girl, maybe even marry her,” he boasts. “She’s eating up every word I say. I guess we’ll see. Maybe I’ll just fuck her raw until I’m bored. Would be a good lay. Seems like a little freak.”

My jaw clenches tight.

“I have another date tomorrow night too. I dunno. Carlee feels special. Catch you up with what happens later.” He ends the call, smirking, completely oblivious to the anger he’s stirring within me.

I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm, but every fiber of my being wants to lash out. This motherfucker needs to be laid out on the floor. He doesn’t deserve her time, and he certainly doesn’t deserveher.

I down the bourbon in one swift motion, the burn calming my nerves. I signal for another, one that I’ll try to savor, needing to steady the storm roiling inside me. As I wait for round two, I catch the familiar hint of her perfume.

Carlee Jean Jolly, from Merryville, Texas, smells like vanilla with a hint of cinnamon. It’s intoxicating, swirling around me, and it puts me in a choke hold. I’m convinced I could locate her in a crowded room while blindfolded. Her scent is home, familiar, and comforting, and it drives me crazy.Shedrives me crazy.

“Pardon me,” Carlee mutters as she slides onto the barstool beside me.

Her fingers gently brush along my back. It’s a simple gesture, yet it holds so much behind it.

“No problem.” I meet her sparkling greens, losing myself in their depths, feeling like time stands still.

I glance down at her pretty lips, which curl into a shy smile as I sip my bourbon, trying to mask the onslaught of emotions brewing beneath my skin. Our gazes lock as the world around us fades to obscurity. We engage in a silent conversation; unspoken words connect us in this dimly lit bar.

I tilt my head, along with my glass, watching the rich brown liquid swirl at the bottom. She’s surprised I’m here, and she’s silently wondering why. I’ve asked myself the same question since I walked through that fucking door.

Ishouldn’tbe caught in this limbo of desire and restraint. But I had an unshakable urge to witness her with another man, a form of self-inflicted torture that only reiterates what’s truly at stake—her.

Carlee returns her attention to tedious Trever.

“Sorry, what were you saying? Something about import fees?” Carlee continues, straining to find interest.

I’ll give her an A for effort, but this date is pathetic.

Trever is birth control in human form.

“Ah, right.” He dives back into his spiel about foreign taxes and fees, blissfully unaware that he’s as exciting as watching paint dry. He wouldn’t recognize a hint if it punched him in the face.

His monotonous finance talk is painfully unengaging. He hasn’t allowed Carlee to speak for longer than three seconds, and it’s infuriating. Even if she wanted to go home with him, which I can sense she doesn’t, I’d never fucking allow it.

Call me a cockblock—I don’t care.

Lexi was right about one thing: Carlee deserves to be with someone who will treat her right. Trever isn’t the one.

“Don’t you find that interesting?”

“Wow, yeah,” Carlee responds, twirling the straws in her martini glass before downing the rest of it. She unlocks her phone to check the time, perhaps gauging how much longer she’ll have to endure this.

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