Page 71 of Can't Get Enough

“Well, thanks to Zere, you kinda are.”

I pause my steps and wait for her to stop, too. She looks at me over her shoulder, her expression inscrutable.

“Believe it or not,” I say, “I never wanted to be known that way, but I was dating someone very famous. It came with the territory.”

I’m making progress in inches. The last thing I want to talk about is my ex-girlfriend and how awkward our situation would be if Hendrix succumbs to the obvious attraction between us. I’m not going to back away from the conversation, though. I’ll have to be open about everything if I stand a chance.

“I get it.” Hendrix shrugs and resumes walking, not waiting for me to join her. “None of my business.”

I don’t refute that, but lengthen my steps to draw even with her again.

“I’m calling you this week,” I say without preamble, and she stumbles for a second before steadying her gait.

She tilts her head just the slightest bit, not enough that I can look straight into her eyes, but at an angle where I have an unobscured view of the regal arch of her cheekbone and the plushness of her lips and the heavy fringe of lashes that hide anything she might be feeling from me.

“Why?” she asks.

I flash her the buccaneer’s grin I reserve for when something I desire very badly is within my grasp.

“Because I want to.”

CHAPTER 22

HENDRIX

Because I want towas not a good enough reason to call.

But did I answer the first time Maverick rang? And the second and the third?

Why, yes, I fucking did.

I’m not proud of it. On the first call, he asked about my mother and the support group. I told him I’d joined one online and it was really helping me process how the changes Mama is experiencing impact not just her, but our whole family. Our whole lives.

Innocent enough.

The second time he asked me a few questions about Hue and to see if we had talked to the cannabis founder. He made sure we had everything we needed to move forward with her should we decide to.

Still feeling pretty guilt-free.

That third time, though, he asked if I’d been watchingTop Boy.

Of course I had. It’s freaking fantastic. It satisfiesThe Wireitch I didn’t even know I needed scratched. And everyone knows the Brits make everything amazing. This conversation devolved into us watching season two together.What are you watchingmay as well have beenwhat are you wearing. Simul-watching Netflix is like phone sex, like masturbatory streaming.

I can’t keep doing this.

And yet, when the text message comes through and I see it’s him,that traitorous heart of mine starts batting its wings like a hummingbird on steroids.

Maverick:You down to watch an episode tonight?

“Who got you smiling like that?” Soledad asks, jerking me back to game night at her house.

She splits her attention between the phone in my hand and the kitchen counter, which holds a platter decorated with a variety of cheeses, brightly colored fruit, and sticky dollops of jams and sauces.

“Who smiling?” I play dumb. I’ve never seen my own face when Maverick texted or called, but it can’t be good.

“You been holding out on us?” Soledad skewers a grape tomato, salami, green olives, and a mozzarella ball, adding it to the growing stack of food on her platter. “Some man finally got your attention?”

“Or some woman?” Yasmen asks, entering from the living room and carrying a bottle of wine. “Don’t forget that bi-awakening she had a few months ago.”

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