Page 70 of Infatuation

She scowls yet again.

I suppress the urge to laugh out loud at her expression. She’s such a bullshitter, this girl. She wants me so bad, she’s about to pull her hair out. Time to turn up the heat.

“Plus, I happen to like kissing when I fuck,” I say nonchalantly. “I like it a lot. Every variety of it.”

She stops walking abruptly and puts her arms out like she’s trying to balance herself on a log.

Oh man, she’s drunk. Her eyes are half-mast. Her hair’s matted against her head. Her eye makeup is smudged. And she’s still fucking gorgeous.

“Look, here’s the thing you’re obviously not getting about me, Party Girl: I’ve been exercising superhuman patience my whole fucking life. You think you’re gonna wear me down?Nothingfucking wears me down—I’ve got the patience of a fucking saint. I’ve been the fixer my whole life—and nothing ruffles me. As far as I’m concerned, there’s a time and place for everything—including fucking the one and only Party Girl with a Hyphen—and until the right time for that bit of awesomeness presents itself, I’ll just wait andbe patient, let you drip down your thighs ’til you’re begging me for it.”

She’s speechless.

I can’t suppress my laughter anymore. She’s too fucking cute. “Come on, PG. Let me get you to your room to change.” I grab her limp arm and usher her toward the hotel again, but after three more steps, she stops short and hunches over.

“Kat?”

She nods and puts her hand to her mouth. “Yeah. I’m fine.” She takes two more steps and stops again, grabbing her stomach.

“Kat?” I grab her shoulders? “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I think I just need to—”

Without warning, she bends over and barfs—all over the sidewalk—and all over my two-thousand-dollar shoes.

Twenty-Two

Kat

I slowly open my eyes. I don’t feel great, but it definitely could have been alotworse. When Josh brought me to my room after I barfed all over him, he helped me shower—in my bra and undies, I noticed—ordered me chicken noodle soup from room service, and made me drink a bunch of Gatorade and take four Ibuprofen before finally tucking me into bed. I have to admit, I kinda swooned at how attentive and sweet he was, even through my queasiness.

I look at the clock. Three o’clock. Wow, I slept a full seven hours. I grab my phone and look at my emails. Damn. I’ve got two messages from my boss, attaching documents that require my attention. Obviously, I’m gonna have to head back to Seattle soon or risk losing my job. My work is piling up and I’ve already used up all my vacation days this year. Hmm. Maybe there’s a way for me to finagle this.

I forward my boss’s email to my co-worker Hannah, asking her if maybe she’s willing to help a sistah out?

Hannah’s email reply is immediate. “Of course, baby. I got you. Any time.”

“Thanks, baby. You know I’ll return the favor.”

“You’ve helped me with a thousand pitches, girl. And I still owe you big time for helping me with the politician who sent the dick pic to the teenager.”

“You don’t owe me a damned thing,” I write. “And if you do, then helping me with this pitch puts you way ahead, for sure.”

“Where are you? Still in Vegas?” Hannah writes.

“Yeah. And currently hung over. Partied all night. You won’t believe who I partied with.”

“Who?”

“RED CARD RIOT!”

“WTF!!!!!! Are you serious?”

“Serious. LMFAO,” I write.

“Cray,” Hannah writes.

“Probs going to their concert tonight, too. And watching from backstage!!!!!”

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