Page 62 of Bad at Love
Where the hell am I?
I stare up at a ceiling. It’s painted blue, framed by crown moldings.
Naomi’s place.
I lift up my head and look around. I’m on one couch in the living room and Naomi is on the other. I’m dressed in my velvet dress from last night. Naomi is in her robe and pajamas. A sea of wine bottles and tissues fill the floor between us.
Memories of last night come flooding into my brain.
Last night was a mess.
I felt so horrible for everyone.
Horrible that Naomi had to walk in on her husband screwing some random woman in their bedroom.
Horrible that I had to bail on Laz in the middle of our third date, in one of the nicest restaurants I’ve ever been to, while Laz was looking so devilishly handsome I could hardly think about anything but him.
And then there was that kiss.
I don’t know what came over me.
That never happened during any other third date I’ve been on.
But he looked so disappointed at how the night went, even though he was trying hard not to show it. I wanted to tell him that…
Hell. I wanted to show him how much I fucking want him.
Because I do.
He’s all I want.
The moment he showed up at my door, he stole my damn breath away. Even though I was still reeling over the phone call with my Aunt Margaret, suddenly he was there like a movie star, a rock star, like that Mr. Mysterious I thought he was the very first night I laid eyes on him.
And while I think I prefer him all scruffed up and beardy as he often is, it was a nice change to see that stunning jawline of his. He’s just so fucking beautiful, even now I feel the heat flaring up between my legs. Parts of me I thought were dormant are coming alive again. And they’re hungry as hell.
Naomi groans, bringing me out of my head. Now if only my body would cooperate. I can’t help my friend if I’m tangled up over my feelings for Laz.
I get up and check on her. She’s back asleep, having rolled over.
I grab a throw from her linen closet and put it on top of her, then get some Advil and water and put it on the table next to her. Part of me thinks I should stay with her but we stayed up until six in the morning and she hadn’t stopped crying once, so I think she needs a lot more sleep than this. I just hope that Robert isn’t that much of an asshole that he’ll come back.
According to Naomi though, she grabbed the gun fromher closet and threatened to shoot his dick off, so I don’t think Robert is coming back here anytime soon.
With my phone dead, I have to wait until I’m in my car and halfway home before my phone gets charged and when it finally is I have a million texts from Laz and a voice mail. I assume the voice mail is from him.
I listen to that first.
“Hey, sorry if I’m flat-out harassing you at this point, I’m just having trouble sleeping and wondering if you’re okay. Hope Naomi is okay too. Okay, sweet girl, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Oh yeah, call me when you get this.”
I don’t think Laz has ever left me a voice mail before. I’m beyond touched.
He called you sweet girl again, I think to myself, grabbing onto that phrase like it’s something I can touch, holding it close to my heart.
I’m in over my head here.
I should probably head home and have a good think about this before I call him back, get my priorities straight, figure out what’s going on between us. Are we still friends? Are we dating now? Are we still learning from each other or has this whole experiment morphed into something else entirely?
I don’t have any of the answers. Funnily enough, I don’t think Laz has the answers either. We’re both in this together, completely clueless.
