Break Up with Him, for Me (You Belong With Me 1)

Still nothing.

My “Are you having fun yet?” and “Do you need a ride home?” messages weren’t even read yet.

Just as I was about to call her, there was a loud knock on my door.

Confused as to why security didn’t call me with an alert first, I walked over and stared through the peephole. Penelope was in some guy’s arms looking like a dead fish. Her tell-tale drunk face.

What the hell?

I opened it and the suit came better into view.

The Simon guy from the party.

“Um, hey,” he said. “Mind if I uh, put her down in your place? She said—”

“I told him to bring me here.” Penelope smiled. “There was too much traffic and Tati isn’t answering her phone.”

I held the door open. “White sofa by the window.”

He carried her over and gently laid her down. Then he turned around and extended his hand to me.

“Simon Gaines.”

“Hayden Hunter.”

“I’m a big fan of yours,” he said. “I truly admire your hustle.”

“Noted.” I nodded. I wasn’t used to being friendly—let alone meeting any guy of Penelope’s this early in the game; I didn’t want to encourage him to stay in my place too long either.

“Why do you keep your condo so cold?” Penelope groaned. “Can you bring me a blanket?”

I ignored her question like she ignored my instructions.

“How much did she drink tonight?” I asked Simon.

“We shared three bottles of champagne.”

Of course. “For future reference, stick to wine. She can’t handle champagne.”

“I’ll remember that.”

She let out a soft sigh and tried, then failed to roll over. “I think I need some water. Can you get me that with the blanket?”

“I can get it from your kitchen,” Simon said.

“I’ll handle it,” I said. “You can go now.”

“Are you sure? I mean—”

I raised my eyebrow. “You mean, what?”

“I feel kind of responsible for this, so I can stay.”

“Or, you can go.”

He looked tempted to fight me on this, but he simply cleared his throat.

“I never noticed how stunning all of the details in your ceiling are, Hayden.” Penelope said. “What color is that? Taupe? Butterscotch beige?”

Simon smiled and moved closer to her. He took off his jacket and placed it over her chest. Then he whispered, “Call me when you’re sober. If I don’t call you first.”

He leaned in as if he was about to kiss her, but I cleared my throat.

“Nice to meet you, Hayden.” He stepped back. “Hopefully next time it’ll be under sober circumstances.”

“Hopefully.”

He walked to the door and I waited until I heard the ping of the elevators before looking at Penelope.

Even drunk, she was stunning as hell.

“Didn’t I tell you not to get drunk?” I asked.

“Stop yelling at me.”

“The only one yelling is you.”

“I can see you judging me.”

“Trust me, I haven’t begun to judge you,” I said. “I’ll do that when you’re sober, though. Once again, did you miss the part where I specifically told you not to drink too much?”

“The yacht was so beautiful.” She sat up and smiled. “Simon took me on a private tour of it and showed me all these hidden rooms.”

“So, you’re blatantly ignoring my question?”

“We danced on the balcony under Frank Sinatra’s ‘New York, New York.’ I felt like I was living in one of those nineties rom coms.”

“Okay, then.” I propped her feet on a pillow and slid the stilettos off her feet.

“At one point, I felt like it was only the two of us aboard.”

“Lay your head back on the armrest, please.”

“At one point, I think he was trying to kiss me, but I wasn’t sure if I was reading him right, so I just grabbed another glass of champagne and drank it down.”

I adjusted the pillows behind her head as she continued to ramble. She talked about the silverware that bore Simon’s initials, the way the waters sloshed against the ship, and a second, third, and fourth verbatim recap about how they danced to Frank Sinatra’s ‘New York, New York’ like it was a ‘nineties rom-com.’

As I was pushing a few stray hairs off her forehead, she pressed her hand against my belt buckle and looked directly into my eyes.

I raised my eyebrow.

“Is it bad that I was thinking about your cock for an entire hour after you left?”

“I’m getting you a blanket,” I said. “You can tell me about the rest of your night later.”

“I thought about putting it in my mouth, if it would even fit, or if my eyes would water if I took it all the way down my throat.”

“Penelope …” My cock hardened in my pants. “I need you to stop talking.”

“You wanted my honest opinion about your pictures, right?”

“Not at this moment.”

“I’ve always thought that you were the sexiest man I’ve ever seen—even when I hated you,” she said. “Even when I thought your cockiness was simply you over-compensating for having a small penis.” Her gaze moved down to my pants. “You clearly weren’t.”