Hale‘s gorgeous face looks back at me from the Cherry on Top scheduling app. Just so handsome. More George Clooney than Clooney himself.
“Well, I have no idea if that’s what really happened. I just know if it did, the older one won.”
She lets out a horse-breath of exasperation. “You’ve got two stallions in a bidding war over you. Meanwhile, I’ve got to be arm candy for the world’s most boring accountant. But at least there’s gonna be champagne. And you’ll be there.”
As usual, she’s only done half her research. I swipe my phone and show her the screen. “Champagne and puppies.”
“Oh god,” she says, melting a little when she sees the image that is on the website for the gala. A whole pile of puppies playing with various stuffed fruits and vegetables. A Labrador with a carrot. A Jack Russell with a pineapple. “Puppies do make everything better.”
I reach over and take a sip of her lemonade. “And even though your accountant is boring, at least your taxes will be done right this year.”
Elana snorts, stealing her lemonade back from me and jiggling the ice. “Yeah. It’s all 1099s for me. But maybe tonight it’ll be 69 for you.”
And I feel my face flush, hot and embarrassed, right up to the tips of my ears.
Forty-five minutes later, those awful little spreaders are separating my toes, and my fingernails are drying under the UV light. I lean back and look at my nails. Even though I hate all the buffing and roughing and trimming and filing, they do look quite beautiful in the end. So shiny. So smooth.
So pretty and clean and nice.
I think my aversion to all this pampering comes from my upbringing. My parents were salt-of-the-earth types. Dad was a mechanic. Mom did ironing and laundry for the wealthier occupants of Wheeling, Missouri. They believed your station in life was where you’d always be. Your children as well.
Don’t get uppity my mother would say to me at least once a week since birth and I guess deep down, any sort of pampering ignites my inner child trying to shrink back. Fit it. But, I never really did. Once I’m fairly sure my fingernails are dry enough, I tap my phone into awakeness again and go back to my calendar for the night. Hale has booked me for tonight, but now I see that Flint has already booked me for tomorrow.
I pinch out on my calendar, careful not to let my nails touch the screen, then position it so I can see both of their profile pictures, side by side. Hale has shorter hair. Dark almost black with silver starting to glimmer at the temples where Flint’s hair is a rich brown, longer, but neat. As I look at them, I feel that familiar clenching and churning deep in my core.
I want them. Both of them. And it’s even worse because I know I shouldn’t want either of them like this at all.
Men use this service because they don’t want entanglements. Or just sex. They want different things, but what I can pick up from Hale and Flint is for the most part, they want to be left alone and in an ironic way, I’m a means to that end.
I take a deep breath to try to quiet the burning feelings in my belly. For my Short twenty-one years, I’ve never had romantic feelings before. I saw something on my newsfeed once about people that are what’s called aromantic. I like men. I can be attracted to them, but I never felt that…boom, buzz, wow until Hale.
And Flint. Go big or go home, my Uncle Terry used to always say.
But now, for the first time, I study them side by side. And I realize, they look a little bit alike.
Maybe just a little.
Maybe just a bit.
I look across the drying table at Elana. “Do you have a type?”
She looks up at me from her phone, squinting slightly in the afternoon light. “A type of what?”
God, I love her. “Of man. Is there a certain type of guy that is your type?”
She clicks her tongue. “Sure. My type is whoever pays me best and doesn’t give me shit for sleeping until noon. How about you?”
I look back down at Flint and Hale. They really do have a number of features in common. The jaw. And the cheekbones. Dark eyed, exuding confidence and intensity. As well, they both have that dominant, borderline bossy vibe that makes me shiver and wonder if I’m going to have my feminist card revoked.
Seeing them both makes me feel like hot little flames are lapping up my legs. And there’s no point in pretending to myself anymore.
I have the feels for both of them. Big time.
“I think maybe I do.”
CHAPTER 2
Hale
The Michigan Humane Society gala is top notch and high end, but I don’t give a fuck where I take her or what we do together. As long as I’ve got her with me, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.