Spite Club (Mason Brothers 1)

“And you turned her down,” he continued.

“I had to,” I explained. “She was only asking because she was emotional. She’d just been almost fired from her job, and she’d had a big fight with her douchebag ex. He wasn’t only cheating with Gina, but someone else, too. She was in a crazy mood. She was up and down and sideways all at once.”

Andrew scratched an eyebrow thoughtfully. “What did she do when you said no?”

“She got mad, and hurt,” I said. Fuck, I hadn’t meant to hurt her. That part stung. “She told me to take my chivalry and shove it.”

“She told you that, and you still said no?” my brother said.

“It was bad,” I admitted. “It was very fucking bad. Maybe I didn’t handle it right. I have no idea. But having sex right then would have been worse.” I didn’t say the worst part: Sex, right then, would have ended us. That was the part I didn’t say. Because it sounded ridiculous, not wanting to end something that didn’t exist in the first place.

Andrew shook his head. “How you have so many women, and know so little about them, amazes me.”

“Because I never talk to them, buttwipe,” I said.

“So, talk to this one,” he said. “Call her.”

“And say what?”

He counted on his fingers. “I’m sorry, I hope you’re okay, I think you’re hot even though I totally fucking hurt your feelings. There’s a starter script. Go from there.”

“She’ll get the wrong idea,” I said.

“Like what? That you actually like her?”

I glared at him. Because yeah, that was what I meant. I didn’t want her to know I liked her.

I didn’t like her. It was just a revenge thing.

Except I sort of did. This was Evie. What was not to fucking like?

Jesus, I was a fucking mess.

“Fine,” I said, like I was doing Andrew a favor. “I don’t know why I take your advice about women, when you know even less about them than I do.” I pulled out my phone and stood up. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Sure,” Andrew said. “Take your time.”

The fact that he was so agreeable probably meant that he had some secret way of listening in, but I couldn’t be bothered with that right now. I stepped out onto his front porch and dialed Evie’s number.

She answered, and there was a blare of sound, as if she was somewhere loud. “Nick!” she shouted over the noise. “Hi!”

She sounded panicked and relieved at the same time, which I didn’t expect. “Evie?” I said. “Where are you?”

“I can’t hear you,” she said. “Hold on.” I waited a second, but the noise didn’t go down. It sounded like the pulse of loud dance music. “Shit, I still can’t hear you,” she said. “Let me—” The line went dead.

So much for playing it casual.

I couldn’t let it go. So I texted her instead. Where are you?

Cintano’s, she replied, naming a trendy downtown bar. Known mostly for hookups, if you were a trendy kind of person. Which Evie wasn’t. She was a lot of things, but trendy wasn’t one of them.

Still, I had to ask the question. What are you doing there?

Her answer took a second. You told me to find someone to fuck me, she wrote. And you won’t do it. So here I am.

I stared at the words with disbelieving eyes. Then I closed my eyes and tilted my head back.

Fuck. Fuck.