Page 53 of Savage in the Sheets
Rising to greet him, I force a smile, accepting the roses and a quick hug.
“So, where is the lucky bastard?” Wes says with an edge to his voice.
“Lucky bastard?”
“Your new boyfriend.” He glances at the line. “Can’t wait to meet him.”
“What new boyfriends?” I say, then suddenly remember the fib I told last week.
And then it hits me.
He didn’t recognize Angela’s number. He thought it belonged to my fake boyfriend. If they were hooking up, he’d most certainly have recognized it.
Angela exits the bathroom, then hops giddily on over to us.
“You guys look soooo cute together! But roses? Really, Weston? How cliché.”
“Can we just take our seats?” I say, wanting to get to the bottom of whatever shenanigans are at work.
Wes and Angela comply, Wes looking confused, Angela looking clueless.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask.
“I’m kind of wondering the same,” Wes replies.
“Didn’t you summon me here to tell me that you’re dating?” Angela says, eyes shifting between Weston and me.
“Why would we be dating when she has a new boyfriend?” Wes asks.
Angela’s brow cocks upward. “A new boyfriend? Was Stage Three that bad?”
Wes and Angela stare at me, and I can’t for the life of me think of what to say, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Are you two fucking?”
Two pairs of eyes blink back at me.
“Because if you two are, you can just tell me. You’re adults, and I have no right to tell you who you can and can’t have sex with. I will say, however, that maybe you should have told me.”
“Are you insane?” Wes sneers. “It’s Angela.”
Angela’s head snaps in his direction. “Hey!”
“No offense,” Weston says to my offended friend, “but you’re needy and require way too much upkeep.”
Angela’s jaw drops.
“So, you guys aren’t fucking?”
Both heads turn to face me and snap, “No!” in unison.
Weston follows with, “Why would you even think that?”
My cheeks flush pink. “Last Saturday, I went to your apartment a little early, and I saw you two kissing at the door.”
Realization registers in Weston’s eyes, and he leans back in his chair, raking his fingers through his hair.
“Jesus, is that why you bailed?” he says.
“Wait—you bailed?” Angela interjects, still confused.
