Page 29 of Seven Year Itch
“You would know since you live there.”
She rolls her eyes but takes my arm as we make our way up the steps. Her skin is cool against mine, and I see her staring intently at my inked arm wrapped around hers.
Her long lashes blink up at me as she scowls. “You know... I used to think you were hot, before I hated you.”
The grin that I make is embarrassing, so I quickly deflect. “I still think you’re hot, even though I hate you.”
“You think I’m hot?” she asks with a deadass serious face, as we make our way past the birdcage. Last night, she was a wreck walking by them. Tonight, I think my compliment has helped her totally forget them.
I roll my eyes as we stop in front of the palapa door. “You know you’re hot.”
“I used to be hot.” Her face falls as she tugs at the top of her dress.
“Used to be?”I hit her with a disbelieving look, certain she’s fishing for compliments.
“Yeah... I’ve changed.” She sighs and turns to open the door, stumbling into our room that’s illuminated by the lamp she left on beside her bed. “I’m not the hot little thing I used to be. It’s fine. I know I’m not a dog. But I’m not what I once was.”
She begins to kick off her heels like she didn’t just say the most fucked-up thing on the planet.
“Are you high?” I snap, irritation crawling up my skin.
“No, I’m midsize.”
“Mid-what?”
“Midsize.” She points to her midsection. “I have a little more here than I used to. And I don’t even have the excuse of having babies. I just...” she shrugs “...gained weight. Hormones, age, whatever. It is what it is. Randal said I went from an eight to a six.” She points her thumbs down and buzzes her lips.
I close my eyes and lick my lips, taking three deep breaths before I respond. “I’m going to need you to never say his name in my presence again.”
“Why?”
“Cuz I hate him.” My teeth crack as I clench them to stop myself from saying more.
“Why doyouhate him? You barely even knew him. If anyone should hate him, it’s me.”
I hit her with a glare. “You should hate him. You should want him dead for multiple reasons, but he should definitely be six feet under for thinking he could ever put a number on you.”
“Like you’re one to talk,” she scoffs and starts taking off her earrings and setting them on the nightstand by the lamp. “You don’t care about anything.”
“It’s not about caring,” I say, feeling strangely out of breath as I stare at her lush frame illuminated in a halo of light that makes every inch of her look alluring. “It’s about not letting yourself be numbered by anyone when you’re fucking infinite.”
Dakota stops what she’s doing and stares back at me, lips parted, breasts heaving under her tight dress. She looks like she’s not buying what I’m saying, so I walk over and make direct eye contact, so she knows I’m not fucking with her.
“From the moment I met you, I could see that. You had the world by the fucking balls... and you did whatever you wanted. Only a guy with zero fucking common sense would somehow miss the fact that you are limitless.”
She blinks up at me, her long lashes hooding her eyes in a way that makes her look really sexy. Like how she’d look when I’m buried deep inside her. But my dirty thoughts are thwarted when she finally replies, “He’s the reason I went to the sex club.”
I inhale sharply at that swift change of subject.
“What do you mean?” I ask, stepping closer to her. “He made you go? I thought you said that was your first time. Haven’t you guys been apart for a while?”
The idea of her still being involved with Randal makes me want to punch something. Watching her with him the past seven years hasn’t been easy. Not because I’ve been pining for her or anything. Just because he’s the fucking worst.
There are two types of people who never leave Boulder. There are people like my brother or my dad who make a name and a business for themselves. They contribute to society in a mature and adult way. Then there are people like Randal. Randal is a man-bun, lame-ass fucking calf-tattoo hipster who thinks he’s big shit because he became the manager of Pearl Street Pub for a hot second. How a guy like him landed a girl like Dakota is baffling, andI don’t even like Dakota, but I respect her. I respect her hustle and her drive, and I know she’s a good friend to Cozy. And I respect the hell out of what she’s done with her life... aside from that douchebag.
Sure, I might be a fuckup like Randal. I can see that most of my life has been handed to me: my job, my social life, my mountain view. Hell, even my mother gave birth to my best friends.
But at least I don’t have the audacity to try to tie down a girl like Dakota Schaefer.
