Page 61 of Man Vs. Woman
Colt
“Have you talked to Ashley?”Taylor asks me.
I roll my eyes and reach for the towels outside of the locker room. I throw him one and use mine to dry the beads of sweat on my forehead and neck.
I can work out all day, every day, but racquetball with him fucking drenches me. I live for competition, baby. And so does he—it’s a perfect yet dangerous combination. But it’s also a fucking riot.
“Do you think she’s into me?” He asks again, sounding more pathetic than the last time.
“Dude, I don’t know. I guess?” I brush him off.
Damn this guy has it bad. He hasn’t stopped talking about Ashley all fucking day. Even when we were playing ball, he couldn’t stop bringing her up.
“She’s…I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“Yeah, I can tell,” I tease him, sounding more sarcastic than I need to be.
“Shut up, man.” He whips the towel at me, but I jump out of the way.
“Close, but not close enough.” I laugh.
“Seriously, have you talked to her?” His eyes narrow, and I can see a mix of dread and concern etching his expression.
“Damn, dude. I haven’t seen her. And I haven’t talked to her,” I repeat for the umpteenth time.
“Ok. It’s just…I haven’t heard from her since the day at her office,” he says.
Is he seriously fucking hung up on this one chick? Jesus Christ, man.
But then again…look at me. I’m fucking hung the fuck up on Serena. I can’t get her out of my thoughts.
Whatever. At least I have sex with the object of my desire.
“Since you almost fucked her. Yeah, I know, you told me a million fucking times,” I quip.
We grab our stuff from our lockers and head out to one of the lounges on the top floor. It’s been a minute since we’ve been at The New York Athletic Club. We used to come here all the time. It was one of the most effective ways to get rid of our Sunday morning hangovers—racquetball, sauna, bloody Mary’s at the lounge and then, it’s time for round three. It became a tradition.
But since shit blew up in my face, literally. We—well, I—haven’t had that much time to keep up with our ritual. It feels good to be back, though shit’s still a mess.
“Yeah, seriously, man. I don’t fucking get it,” Taylor says, running his hands through his hair. He’s showing more emotion than I’ve ever seen before, and I’ve been friends with him for fucking forever. It’s…odd and a bit uncomfortable.
“Why don’t you just call her? Ask her yourself if she wants to deal with your ass. Man-up already,” I shake my head at him in disapproval. “You said you guys planned dinner, right?”
“Fuck me,” he sighs and plops down on an extra-large lounge chair.
I sit next to him, angling ourselves by the window so that we can soak up the skyline. Less than a minute later, the waitress drops off our bloody Mary’s. This is probably one of the best privileges of being a regular here; you don’t even have to ask what you want, they just know.
“Is it my turn now?” I ask, hoping to get him off Ashley for now.
Taylor leans over and grabs his drink. “Serena?”
“No, fucking Hiram. I still don’t get it with this guy. I keep looking over Anna’s brief and the files you brought me, praying something will make sense, but him and his business, his history; it doesn’t add up.”
“Yeah, I’m not really seeing the connections either,” Taylor admits. He takes a swig of his drink and pops an olive in his mouth.
I swirl the ingredients of the bloody Mary together, mulling over the mess I’ve gotten myself into. I wish it could be fucking easy; that everything would line up neatly, giving me a shit ton of evidence to lock the fucker away and get my gym back. And hell, get Serena’s spa back in working order too.
But like everything else in my life, it has to be an uphill battle, and I have to bust my ass to get anything done.
