Page 62 of Bad Crush
“Do you want to talk to her?”
“You don’t have to do this,” he says as he leans back in his chair.
“Do what?”
“Pretend to care about Carrie. I know you’re not her biggest fan.”
“Doesn’t matter what I think. So, do you?”
“Of course, I do. I want to know that she’s okay.”
I take a drink, choosing my words carefully. “Then you should call her.”
“Seriously?”
I shrug. “What the fuck do I know about lasting relationships? I don’t think she’s the right girl for you, but if she is, then I’ll gladly shut up and be happy for you.”
“Wow. Reagan’s good,” he says as Heath and Maverick return.
“Sex talk. Finally!” Maverick looks between us. “Reagan’s good in bed, huh?” He nods. “That doesn’t surprise me. Her body is killer. And that mouth.”
Heath and Rhett are trying hard not to laugh.
“If you want to keep breathing, I suggest you stop talking.” I glower at Maverick.
Heath finally stops fighting it and chuckles quietly. “Kind of possessive. Almost like a boyfriend.”
“She’s not my—”
“Girlfriend,” they say in unison. “We know. You mention it daily.”
“I do not.” I bite back a grin.
“Are you two just hooking up, or is it leading somewhere?” Heath asks. I swear he’s the last person I would have imagined asking me that before he started dating my sister. He was the king of casual hookups.
I can’t come up with an answer easily, so I shrug.
“Is this your first fuck buddy?” Maverick asks. “Because I don’t think you’re doing it right.”
“He’s right,” Heath adds. “The whole point of not making a girl your girlfriend is to avoid sleepovers and spending time together that’s not naked. You and Reagan are together all the time. You even let her sleep at our place.”
“So?”
“She’s your girlfriend, man.” Heath waves his arms around. He’s a pretty chill dude, so I know he’s frustrated with me when he starts getting loud and talking with his hands.
“What does it matter?” I lean forward. “Bet aside. We’re having fun. I like her. She likes me. I’m trying really hard not to fuck this up.”
“You’re trying so hard not to screw up that you can’t even see how badly you’re screwing this up,” Heath says.
“What?” I look around the table for help. Reagan and I are solid, which is exactly what I tell them.
They snicker and hang their heads.
“What am I missing?”
Heath doesn’t look like he wants to share, so I look to Rhett. “Well?”
“Hold that thought. We need another round of shots.” Maverick scoots his chair back, the wood screeching along the floor. He hustles back a minute later with four shots of what looks like Jägermeister. Fuck, it’s going to be a long night at this pace. “What’d I miss?” he asks as he hands them out.
