Page 2 of Savage in the Sheets
Everything seems to come easy for me.
Except love.
“Here ya go.” Weston hands me a Bud Light Lime.
I take a sip, mulling over my many unfortunate relationships. If you could even call them that.
Things start off great. They’re impressed with my accomplishments and happy to take me on date number two. And three. Then, we make it into the bedroom…maybe two times.
I have to know what’s wrong with me. Why guys ditch me when everything seems to be going so smoothly. And who better to help than Wes, my bestie who’s been with me through thick and thin the last eight years.
“Wes?” I say anxiously, not sure if I really want to know the answer to what I’m about to ask.
His face shows concern. “What’s up?”
“I need to know what’s wrong with me.”
His brow draws together. “Wrong with you? You seem to be doing alright.”
I take a sip of my beer, then dig in deep.
“I’m twenty-five, and I’ve never been in a real, committed relationship. There was a guy in high school I‘dated’for two years, but we never did more than kiss. Every time I meet a man, things seem to be going good. We talk, and there are no awkward silences. We…make it into the bedroom…all the things men would expect.” I waggle my brow to get my point across. “But then…nothing. They just tell me they’re not looking for commitment, or they stop calling altogether.”
“Uh-huh—”
“Which is bullshit. A month after one guy broke up with me, he was claiming some woman on Facebook. I couldn’t help but think, why not me?”
Weston downcasts his eyes.
“Wes, do you know something?”
“It’s nothing—”
“Oh, it is most certainly something. Now you better tell me—”
“You’re reading too much into this.”
“Don’t act like I don’t know you. If you know something that could help me, just tell me. I would do the same for you.”
Wes swallows hard, and I know I’m in for a bumpy ride. I take another swig of beer and brace for impact.
“Remember a month ago when I got into that fight with Ashton…” Weston starts.
Ashton Penrose, the charming architect that shagged me three whole times before calling it quits.
“Yeah, you were at that new bar, and he was trying to hit on the girl you were with.”
He clears his throat and licks his lips as if he’s anxious.
Why would he be anxious?
“He wasn’t hitting on your girl, was he?”
“No…I was there with some friends, and I said hi. He said, “You’re friends with that smart, nerdy girl, aren’t you?” I had to agree with him, because it was true but what he said next was something I couldn’t tolerate.”
“What did he say?”
“Just that…you were very mechanical.”
