Making Up (Shacking Up 4)

He waits until I’m inside and the door clicks shut behind me before he returns to his car. He doesn’t get in until the elevator doors open and I step inside with a wave.

As soon as I’m heading for the eighth floor, I let out a stupid girly squeal. “Oh my God!” I cover my mouth with my hand, even though there’s no one to hear me shrieking like an idiot.

I walk into my apartment with a huge smile on my face, feeling ridiculously giddy. I don’t even notice the cherry scent until I get to the living room and am enveloped by a cloud of vape fumes.

Nev is sprawled out on the couch with an e-cigarette in her hand, drinking my favorite bottled cocktail, channel surfing. She’s also wearing my clothes, hence the reason for my clean outfit issue tonight. She quirks a brow as she looks me over. “Are you high or something?”

“What?” I look down, as if that somehow explains why she’d come to that conclusion.

“You’ve got a seriously dopey look on your face.”

“Oh. No. The only thing I’m high on is life.” I drop my backpack on the floor, open a window, and settle into the recliner on the other side of the living room. “I just went out with this super hot guy who can kiss like . . . I don’t even have words for how amazing it was, but my toes are still curling.”

“I hope it’s not another one of those loser college guys.”

“They’re not losers if they’re in college, Nev. And this guy is actually finished with college.”

Nev perks up. “Oh yeah? Does he have a good job? You wanna date guys who make at least $150K a year minimum. Did he pick you up? What kind of car does he drive?”

I hate that these are the kinds of things my sister considers important. “I don’t think asking a guy how much he makes on the first date is a great conversation starter, but maybe I’ll work it in next time.” I let my sarcasm hang out.

My sister rolls her eyes. “Guys love to talk about how much money they make. They think their bankroll is in direct correlation with how big their dick is. Anyway, tell me about his car.”

My sister is obsessed with cars. So much so that she lost her virginity in one and has spent the better part of her early and midtwenties trying to have sex in every single high-end sports car out there. I don’t agree with her tactics, but then, she and I are very different.

“It was sporty.” I push up off the couch and check the fridge for something to drink. I’m still full from dinner, but now I want something to mask the lingering taste of onions. I can’t believe I ate a plate of onion rings and Griffin still kissed me, for lots of minutes.

“That’s pretty vague, Cosy.”

“It was black and a two-seater with a push-button start and leather seats. It was nice, that’s all I know.” There are no more fun drinks, but I find a Grape Crush hidden in the back of the fridge and pop the cap, taking a sip of the sickly sweet soda. It helps with the onion taste.

“Okay, so he drives a sporty car, is hot, and finished college. How old is he?”

“Older.”

Nev sits up, her e-cigarette dropping to the floor. At least she can’t burn holes in the furniture with it. “How much older?”

“Like, ten years,” I mutter.

“Well done, sis.” She slow claps.

“Why are you clapping?”

“Come on, Cosy, you’re not that naïve. Guy in his thirties, driving a sports car, dating a college girl? He’s reliving his glory days while he can still get it up without having to pop a pill. Look at you, you’re like innocence and sex all wrapped up in a pretty package. You should go out with him again. I’ll tell you all the best restaurants and clubs to go to.”

I hate how jaded Nev is, but what I hate even more is that she has a point, because I thought that exact same thing. Ten years might be nothing when you’re talking forty to fifty, or even thirty to forty, but this guy has a career, and he’s only here for a short period of time.

I’m a fun time, not girlfriend material for a guy like Griffin. Not that I want to be his girlfriend. I’ve only gone out with him once, and at the end of the semester I have an internship that’s going to take me away from Vegas. So maybe I should let him take me out again. It would be nice to go to a place that doesn’t allow coupons. And now I sound exactly like my sister. Great.

I tune back in as Nev launches into one of her spiels. “You should definitely go out with him again if he calls. I mean, no guy your age is going to wine and dine you the way this guy will. Plus, if he’s in his thirties, he should know his way around a clit.”