Page 2 of Chasing Storm
“So? I can look, can’t I?”
Josh sighs heavily and goes back to brooding into his latte macchiato.
Thatcher, the other best friend and housemate, snickers. He is more like me. From a well-off family initially, since becoming friends with me, he has doubled his modest trust fund. Like I said, my charmed life loves me. I know the market, and I play it to my advantage. It helps that my dad is an investment banker. He taught me everything I know, hoping I would follow in his footsteps to become a junior partner at his firm by now. But why work when I can do this for fun and be fucking good at it?
Which brings me back to last night and my more than killer hangover right now. Tearing my eyes from the off-limits woman to take a gulp of my hot, black coffee, which was pathetically expensive for what it is. The party I held atelitelast night was a raging success. It started about eleven after Ladies’ Night ended and went on until three. It’s now quarter to nine, and I’ve had about two hours of sleep.
If that.
I did take home a pretty woman who was up for some fun, and we banged like bunnies for a while before I rang her a taxi and sent her on her way from our four-bedroom townhouse on Lansdowne Crescent. No way did I want her sticking around, getting ideas that it was more than just a one-nighter. Not my scene at all. When I want a fuck buddy, I look for women who are up for some fun and that suits me, just fine. It’s no strings, no emotions. Two things I’m not ready for.
“So, why am I up at dumb fuck o’clock?” I ask Josh, who called us here at this ungodly hour. My eyes are gritty, my head is banging, and I could do with falling back into my pit sooner rather than later.
“You wouldn’t know dumb fuck o’clock if it bit you on the arse,” he grouses. “Try being me for a week. You’d probably end up a crying heap on the floor.”
“Hard pass, thanks. I definitely wouldn’t trade places with the moody, insomniac arsehole with a caffeine addiction.”
“Ouch,” he growls, but he doesn’t take offence to any of it. He knows who he is, and he owns it. It’s why I like him so much. What you see is what you get. He is a good balance that is needed between Thatch and me, what with us being too much alike for anyone’s good. The world can only handle one of us at a time, and Josh reminds us of that.
“You know my friend Elle?”
I nod, eyes narrowed as I recall the fiery redhead with the big tits.
“Well, her friend Charity, you’ve met her, small, blonde and a bit too perky? Yeah, anyway, she is on the market to settle down.”
I blink as that hits me right in the guts. I let out a low growl. “And?”
“Calm your tits,” he huffs. “I’m not suggesting for one second you express an interest in Charity,but…”
“But nothing.”
“But we are all knocking on a bit. You’re both twenty-eight, and I’m not far behind. Do we really want to be looking for someone when we're in our mid-thirties or older? Any single women will be fifteen or so years younger than us, or possibly fifteen yearsolder, and that’s just a hard passfor me. I won’t have anything in common with them, and neither will you two. So glare at me all you like, I’m putting this on the table to talk about. Nothing more, yet.”
“Humph.” I slouch into my chair and pick up my coffee, taking a big gulp while I think. He’s notwrong, but this wasn’t the time to bring it up. We have talked extensively about the possibility of sharing a woman when we find the right one who will have the three of us. It’s an out of the box idea, but I know it’s the right decision. I know I’m not the easiest guy to live with, so the idea of having these two to ease the situation appeals to me. We bounce off each other really well and any future girlfriend will be lucky to have us,ifshe is willing to accept our arrangement.
But I’m not ready. It’s not what I want yet. Granted, it will take some time to find someone we can all fall for, and even longer to convince her we can give her the world if she’ll let us. But there is still something holding me back.
“I hear you,” I say after a minute and giving him the respect he deserves even though I feel like telling him to fuck off with it at this precise moment. “But it’s not what I want right now.”
“Me either,” Thatch adds, which I knew he would. He is as big a commitment-phobe as I am.
Before Josh can argue, I add, “Look. I know that at some point, this will be a done deal. But seeing my parents in an ice-cold marriage they were forced into, was not fun for me growing up. Whenever this happens, it has to be right, not something I’m rushed into because I’m pushing thirty.”
“Yeah, I get that,” Josh says, staring at his coffee. “However, I don’t want us to miss out on a great love because we weren’t looking. You know? If we’re doing this together we have to all be on the same page, and if we’re not then I want to know sooner rather than later, yeah?”
“Yeah, I know.” I chew my lip. “I’ll think about it.”
He nods and relaxes his shoulders slightly. “I need to get to work.”
“Ah, yes. How is the little bookshop doing?” I give him a smirk to irritate him.
He snorts and stands up. “Fuck off.”
Giving us the finger, which makes me snicker, he leaves. I love teasing him about it, but truth be told, he is minted. His BoHo bookstore on Portobello Road buzzes from morning to night. He hit the market dead on and is reaping the rewards.
I watch him shove the door open, letting in an attractive brunette dressed all in white except for her pink cardigan. I give her a once over with a critical potential lover’s eye and dismiss her. Not out of anything being wrong with her, I’m just knackered.
“Come on,” I say to Thatcher, standing up and picking up my to-go cup. “I need sleep.”
