She breaks out into laughter. “Carter and I are fantastic, thank you very much.”
“Did you have sex with him yet?” I know the answer to my question after all of Carter’s phone calls and visits to bitch to Tyler and me.
She flicks her hair over her shoulder and glances out the window. “Let’s just say I am making Carter work for every second he spends with me. And he can’t get enough of what I’m putting down.”
“You have him wrapped around your finger, huh?”
Sydney has been toying with Carter Donovan for two weeks now, and he has fallen into her trap. As someone who likes attention, craves it even, she thrives on torturing the men in her life. For the most part, her games work on the opposite sex, but there have been a few times her plans have backfired, and she regretted stringing the men along after they had the nerve to walk away.
Some guys can only take so much. Despite her many charms, Sydney has a way about her that wears men down. But she usually brings them to their knees. If she had a super power, that would be it.
She shrugs, unaffected by the mental pain she is causing Carter. I know this because of his many complaints about my friend, the evil vixen who leaves him with a never-ending case of blue balls. “More or less. I think he likes playing the game just as much as I do.”
“You might end up losing him if you don’t give in a little bit. Carter is also Tyler’s best friend, and I’d like to avoid any awkwardness that your pretend romance will end up causing in the future.”
“Just because you’re ready to walk down the aisle with Tyler doesn’t mean I want that for myself, K. I am having too much fun with Carter to stop. You have no idea what it’s like to see a man like him grovel and beg. It’s so sexy. He will be rewarded in time, and I will make it worth his wait.”
“Look, all I’m saying is that you should ease up on him. If you like him, you should give him a real shot, maybe let him take you out on a date. I know for a fact he would kill for the opportunity to take you anywhere you want. You could tell him you want to eat dinner in Paris and Carter would have a flight booked ten minutes later. Trust me, girl, this one is boyfriend material. Think about it.”
“Fine. I will consider it.” She pushes her chair out from the table and stands, her breasts falling out of a tight black top that leaves nothing to the imagination. “I need some coffee. Do you want a refill?”
Staring down at my empty mug, I nod. “Yeah. I’ll have a nonfat caramel macchiato and a piece of chocolate cake.”
“Be right back,” she says with a wink, and then strolls over to the front counter in five-inch heels that accentuate her long legs in the short skirt so tight I wonder how she even got into it.
I go back to typing up the article I was working on before Sydney showed up. The piece needs a few final changes, so I do a quick proofread and schedule it for an early morning release tomorrow. If only I could land a better story, one that would bring my paper enough publicity to get myself out of the hole.
A few minutes later, Sydney reappears with a young boy who is holding a tray with two coffee mugs and two plates of chocolate cake. She acts as though we are in a restaurant, and as if the barista is one of the servants she had grown accustomed to having served her as a child. Spoiled does not even cover how we both were raised, except I have adjusted to the real world, while Sydney still lives insider her little bubble.
“Thank you, darling.” She shoots the young boy a wicked grin, her smile reaching up to her eyes.
He sets our drinks and food on the table, ignoring me and checking out Sydney’s ass as she takes a seat across from me. “Any time,” he mutters, afraid to make eye contact with her, something I have seen more men do than I can count.
The boy must be a student at Strickland University, and since we’re on the campus and sitting in their coffee shop, Sydney and her ass have also attracted the attention of other young males in the café. Wherever we go, we have to deal with the same glances in our direction.
Sydney says thank you to the boy again before he leaves our table, stealing glances at her as he walks back to the front counter.
I lift my fork and dig into my cake, devouring each bite. “This i
s so good,” I mutter as I chew with my mouth full and chocolate stuck to my teeth.
“I’m breaking my no carb diet since every time I see you now is a celebration.” She cuts a tiny piece of her cake and looks down at it, the disappointment she feels registered all over her face. Holding the fork to her mouth, she stuffs the chocolate in her mouth and moans. “Mmm…It has been months since my last pastry. You are a bad influence, K.”
Shoveling the food in my mouth, like a human garbage disposal, I finish in record timing and set my fork down on my plate, washing down the food with my coffee.
It takes Sydney a few minutes to catch up to me, her quiet grunts making me laugh as I watch her in action. She has such a good figure because she works for it. On the other hand, I am her carb-loving friend who cannot live without bread and snack foods.
For the most part, Tyler eats healthy, especially now that he’s back to training again. Some of his habits have rubbed off on me and eating salads is one of them, which shocked the hell out of both of us.
As I drink the rest of my coffee, the food churns up in my stomach, bile rising up from my throat and choking me. Maybe I just ate too fast and need to let it settle. My mouth waters, and combined with the chunks rising, I feel as though I could puke. Grasping the edge of the table, waves of nausea almost knocking me out, I push my chair out and come to a standing.
I bend forward, pressing a hand to my mouth and the try to get this under control.
Sydney peeks at me from beneath her long lashes, the fork still in her hand and full of cake. “Are you okay, babe? You don’t look so hot.”
I shake my head, hoping I can make it to the restroom. “No, I think I am going to be sick. I guess I ate too fast or something.” Before she can get in another word, I turn around and run toward the back of the café, my stomach doing somersaults and kicking my ass as I push open the restroom door.
Forcing my way past two girls hogging up the mirror, I step into the first stall and hunch over in just enough time to lose my lunch. It feels as though it will never end, my insides clenching and in pain from exercising the contents of my stomach. I can hear the girls on the other side of the wall as they make gagging sounds before they exit. Not like I want an audience as I finish up by dry heaving over the dirty toilet.