Page 81 of Biggest Player
“In my defense, I tried bringing it up to her first to see how she’d feel about it.”
He narrows his eyes. “Did you?”
Not really. I wanted to but didn’t have the balls.
There’s a long pause before Landon curses. “You really are a dumbass, do you know that? A real fucking dumbass.”
Like I need him reminding me?
“She knows we’re just friends,” I lie. “We’ve been hanging out anyway, which is basically like dating—why not let the public think it’s more than that?”
“Because. She has a kid, that’s why.”
“I know. But we don’t have to hang out with it.”
It.
I feel instant guilt in the pit of my stomach, speaking about Wyatt that way.
I sound like a fucking jerk.
“Are you listening to yourself?” Landon is shooting veritable daggers at me through the phone, and it’s a look he hasn’t given me before. “Whose dumb idea was this? It couldn’t have been yours—you’re notthatcoldhearted.”
“Was that a compliment?” ’Cause he’s not wrong about that; I’m not actually this cunning. “Trent may have mentioned fake dating her when we had our call last week.”
The words taste like chalk in my mouth, and my friend’s sigh is loud enough to hear all the way from here to Green Bay.
“Not to be rude, sometimes it’s not always in your best interest for you to take his advice. It’s just his opinion. Do you get what I’m saying?”
The whole situation is now completely fucked, and it’s my own damn fault.
Margot and I were having so much fucking fun, and I went and ruined it by asking her if she wanted to actually date me, even though I don’t actually want to date her. But since meeting her, all the fun has been taken out of swiping on dating apps—this connection that we have may not be ...sexual, but it feels ...
Stable.
Special.
Now there’s a word guys don’t think about when they’re imagining boning a chick.
Have I been imagining boning her?
Yes. Yes, I have. And the more I get to know her, the more attracted to her I become.
Shit, fuck, shit.
“What are your options?” Landon asks me. “How are we going to get you out of this mess? You can’t take the words back.”
We.
I love that he phrases it like that; I don’t feel so alone.
I pick at the homemade pasta Carrie left me, kind of wishing she were around—although she would go batshit on my ass if she knew about the shitstorm I created.
“Why are you saying it like that?” I furrow my brow. “When you started dating Harlow, you lied to her too. You didn’t tell her who youactually were. You let her think you were some dude who hung out with his parents on the weekends and was going through job interviews.”
“This isn’t about me—this is about you.” My best friend points at me through the small screen of his phone. “Harlow will be the first person to tell you it freaked her out when she found out who I was.” I hear him open a door and close it. “I don’t know, man. You may have fucked this up beyond repair.”
“How?”
