The Consequence of Seduction (Consequence 3)

I groaned. “That only happened once.”

“Still happened.” Jason pointed his beer at me. “Why would you want to let all of that go—over some girl who’s probably going to choose her job over you any day of the week?”

I tried not to let his sour attitude get to me, but I was feeling defensive and dejected all at once. Ever since Jason’s failed wedding it was like he’d been against any sort of relationship. His glass wasn’t half-full, it was half-empty when it came to relationships. I had to remember it had nothing to do with Jordan and everything to do with him.

“We’re just having fun,” I lied, dumping ice into my drink and stirring with my finger because looking for something to stir it with just seemed like it needed way too much brain power and I was still concentrating on what Jason had said. “Besides . . .” I took a slow sip of the drink and choked—light a match and I could do a pyrotechnics show. “I highly doubt she likes me like that.”

Jason put his feet on the coffee table. “Are we in high school? Because I’m pretty sure I said that in high school when Sara refused to go out with me.”

“Sara?”

“Or was it Laura?”

“What are we talking about?”

Jason shuddered. “Laura, definitely Laura. Sara gave me the creeps, asked to lick my algebra textbook.”

“Because why?” I asked sitting on the opposite couch.

Jason smirked. “Because it had been on my bed.”

“Gross.” I held up my hand. “I don’t know how you and Colt survived high school without getting maimed.”

“Oh, we were maimed all right, in all the best ways.”

“You do realize you’re talking about underage girls, right?”

“Damn it.” Jason frowned. “Maybe you’re not the only one who’s lost it.”

“You have to have it to lose it, bro.”

“Ass.” He tossed the remote in my direction. I ducked in time for it to go careening past my head. “You know what I mean. I haven’t had a date since . . . Jayne.”

“Let’s not count her.” I took another sip of my lighter fluid. “You didn’t love her, and she lied to you about being pregnant, oh, and I’m pretty sure had I not intervened you’d be sharing a home with her and forced to paint her toes while she watched Real Housewives.”

Jason shuddered.

“Honey”—I mimicked Jayne’s voice—“remember it’s book club night! No, not the cab, grab the merlot! You’re so stupid! Hot dogs are NOT one of the basic food groups. Do you even know what’s in those chicken wings? Organic! I said organic bananas! No, I won’t have sex with you! Did you even shower last night? Baby, turn the lights off, you know I get headaches when the lights are on. Sorry, not tonight, I have a headache.”

“You done yet?” Jason winced.

“Baby,” I continued, “you never talk to me anymore. What are you thinking? Wait, are you thinking about that slut at the station? Give me her number! You cheating bastard! I saw the way she looked at you over doughnuts and coffee.”

“Don’t eat doughnuts,” Jason interjected.

“But”—I sniffled—“I just get so scared of losing you! Don’t leave me. Promise you’ll never leave me!” I wailed.

Jason gave me the finger. “Ever think of playing a chick in your next movie? You have that nails-on-the-chalkboard voice down terrifyingly well.”

“What can I say?” I shrugged. “Talented and sexy.”

“But so very humble.” Jason nodded emphatically. “Also, thanks for that trip down memory lane where I ended up in hell and actually for a minute believed it was true—so true that my body still won’t stop shaking. Cheers.” He lifted his beer into the air and downed the whole thing.

“Go on a date,” I offered. “It might help.”

Jason licked his lips and eyed his empty beer bottle. “Yeah, maybe.”

Silence enveloped the room. But it was the good kind of silence, the man kind, where sometimes a guy just wants to sit, drink his beer in peace, and think about absolutely nothing.

And I mean it when I say nothing. If someone was to take a picture of what was happening in my brain it would be a blank slate.

White.

Nothingness.

Just empty space.

Guys needed that time to decompress, whereas girls used that time to break down and overanalyze every single moment of their day.

“So.” Jason broke the silence. “You’re sure she’s not into you? In a serious way?”

“Look.” I leaned forward. “I wouldn’t be upset if she was . . . hell, I’d take her however I could get her. She’s one of those girls that”—I had trouble keeping the dopey smile from my face—“you just want to be around. I don’t know, she makes me happy . . . everything about her, even her—” Jason jumped behind the couch and hid. “What? What’s wrong? I didn’t even touch my eye!”

He peeked over the couch and grinned. “Sorry, I was just trying to stay out of the line of fire. You have that look.”

“No, I don’t,” I argued.

“You do.” Jason pointed. “You can’t stop smiling, your voice went all soft, and I could have sworn you started petting your drink with your hand. Your glass doesn’t have boobs on it, so stop caressing it or I can’t sit here with you. Also, if you get that look in your eyes again while we’re alone, just walk away.”