Then I saw Derek, and I wanted to crash the platter into his face, causing him to bleed all over his expensive suit.
I hated him because I was jealous of him, and that made my skin crawl.
Rage took over when I’d realized that he was going to have Fallon all to himself at some point.
I shouldn’t have cared. I should have been looking at Fallon as if she was just a fun challenge to pass the time, but I couldn’t.
Not after getting to know her the past week. Not after talking to her every day like I was some pussy-whipped teenager.
If we were to just fuck and get it over with, I’d probably be fine.
But she just had to snag me. She had to make me feel things. She just had to come back to Ships that night. And now I was hooked.
But it had been a few days since the “Hey, let me under your dress so I can taste every last bit of you” thing, and she had been a ghost.
It was like she had ghosted me. And it was driving me fucking crazy.
“Ooh, I love this part!” Ivy squealed, sitting up a little higher on her end of the couch.
“Why? Because Dean gets all high and mighty and swoops in to save the girl?” I could hear the little snip in Dawson’s voice, and I had to hold back my laughter. It seems that jealousy runs in the family.
Ivy looked over at him and giggled. “Duh. He’s soooooo hot.”
Dawson glared at her, but in a playful way. His lips were slowly turning upward. “Better watch yourself, there. I’ll turn this shit off in a heartbeat.”
Ivy rolled her eyes. “You will not. You’re too into it.”
I tuned them out, pulling out my phone. It was becoming pathetic how many times I would pull my phone out to check if I had any missed calls or texts. It was also pathetic how many times I would dial Fallon’s number, only to erase it in the end.
We were no good for each other. I wanted the whole “light and fluffy” thing with her, the friends-with-benefits thing, because she had some strange complicated life that was somehow forcing her into a marriage she didn’t want. But I really wasn’t sure if that was possible.
I was really good at pretending, though. A small amount of time with Fallon underneath me—or on top—was better than none. Even if I knew it was all wrong.
My heart skipped a beat the second I’d clicked my phone off, because it vibrated in my hand. I paused, staring at Dean and Sam fighting off Lucifer on the TV, while tuning out Ivy and Dawson pretend-fighting over her obsession with Dean Winchester.
I looked down and saw Fallon’s name on the screen. I clicked the phone open, my entire body sizzling with excitement.
Fallon: Hi.
Me: Long time no talk…
Fallon: I know, I’m sorry. I just… I needed a breather.
I stilled my fingers, wondering what I should say. I grinned as I typed.
Me: Realized you missed me, huh?
Fallon: No comment.
I smiled even wider. She totally fucking missed me.
Fallon: I need a pick-me-up. Make me laugh.
Me: Hmm… well, let me tell you this. Today Kip was tattooing some chick. She wanted the word “Frisky” on her lower back (don’t ask…we surely didn’t) and right before he got started, she farted…in the direction of his face.
Fallon texted back quickly.
Fallon: HAHAHAHAHAHA. I knew I could count on you. That’s hilarious. What did she do? Was she totally embarrassed?