“I think he’s done talking to the interviewer now,” she said. “I’ll call you later. Tonight, maybe?”
“Sure.”
Eighteen
Present Day
Penelope
Me: Raincheck on Central Park tonight? The ice at the rink is cracked around the edges again, so I’ll have to be there tonight with the staff until they finish.
Me: By the way, Simon sent me chocolates and flowers at the rink this morning to make up for it. (You were right.)
Me: What should I say to his text? (Attaching screenshot) I think he wants me to fly to Napa Valley this weekend.
Me: Sorry I missed your call! I’ll call you later. (Thank you for the advice via voicemail [smile emoji] )
Nineteen
Present Day
Hayden
I was starting to get annoyed by all the advice I was giving her to land this other guy. And by “annoyed,” I meant jealous.
Stage ten envy. Full-blown fucking jealous.
To make matters worse, the fantasies that ran through my mind were getting filthier with each passing day. Uttering the words, “Stop. She's your best friend's sister,” no longer blocked me from thinking about all the ways I wanted to see her in my bed, taking every inch of me.
The more I thought about our missed meetings at Central Park and the nightly conversations that had come to a halt, the more I started to feel that maybe, just maybe, she’d be better off with me.
Penelope: Are you at home? I need some advice on something.
I didn’t answer her.
Instead, I headed downstairs to my private gym. I’d taken five cold showers today, and I needed to take a new approach to get her off my mind.
Letting out a breath, I adjusted the weights on my bar and settled on the bench.
My phone sounded with more texts from her, but I ignored those, too.
As I was lifting the bar, I heard the sound of heels clicking against the floor. And then Penelope was suddenly standing over me. The sight of her in a tightly fitted grey dress damn near made me drop the weight onto my chest.
“You got a minute?” she asked.
“I'm clearly in the middle of something right now.” I tried not to stare at her lips too hard, but I couldn’t help it. I slowly set the weight into place and sat up.
I looked down at her deep red stilettos and knew precisely what new image would be running through my mind the moment she left.
“Make it quick,” I said. “I would like to finish this.”
“Fine. Why are you avoiding me?”
“What makes you think that I’m avoiding you, Penelope?”
“I’m not stupid, Hayden.” She crossed her arms. “You haven’t answered my texts for three days.”
Has it only been three days? “I’ve been busy with the latest Tinder lawsuit.” I offered a half-truth. “And I’m not sleeping well.”
“Oh.” She looked somewhat relieved. “Well, Simon just bought me this great sleep aid thing the other day. Want to borrow it?”
Fuck no. “I’ll buy my own. What do you need help with?”
“I want to know your favorite position in bed.”
“Come again?”
“What’s. Your. Favorite. Position. In. Bed?” Her eyes met mine. “Like the place where you have sex.”
“None of your business. That sounds like something you should be discussing with Simeon.”
“His name is Simon.” She rolled her eyes. “I'm only asking for your help because he texted me something dirty and I need a super filthy response.”
“Go pick up a romance novel.”
“I’m serious.” She smiled. “Help me out, please.”
“Fine,” I said. “What were his exact words?”
“What?” Her cheeks flushed red. “I can’t tell you that.”
“I can’t help you if I don’t have all the details.”
She let out a sigh and tapped her phone, avoiding eye contact with me as she read. “You told me you’d like to take things slow, so that's exactly how I’ll fuck you when I get you alone. Nice and slow.”
“That’s it?” I blinked. “Where’s the rest?”
“That’s the end of it.” She looked up at me. “Hot, right?”
“Right … ” I tried not to laugh. There was no point in telling her something that was on the level that I would say; she didn't need to show him up in the dirty talking department at this stage in the game.
“Tell him that when he fucks you slow, you want him on top of you, missionary style. Say something about wanting to feel how deep he can go.”
“Is that what you would say?”
“No.” I shrugged. “But you’re not sexting me, so—” I stopped and cleared my throat. “Send him what I told you and leave it at that.”
She tapped the screen. “Wait. So, hypothetically, if you were interested in sleeping with me me, what would you sext?”
Don’t you dare answer this. It’s a trap.
“I need to finish my work-out and get back to finishing some letters, Penelope. I’ll have to pass on a game of hypotheticals with you.”
“Just tell me what you’d say. It’s not like I’m going to laugh at your skills or anything.”