Dean smiles bigger than I’ve seen him smile in weeks. “Fucking seriously?” He smacks my arm. “Good for you, man. It’s about time. What’s her name?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
He chuckles. “Kinky. She hot? When did you hook up with her, and why didn’t you tell your best friend?”
“I don’t know, and I haven’t hooked up with anyone,” I say, then cringe, because that’s only half true. I’m not sure if what happened in Stella’s room or this pool house counts as a hookup, but they weren’t nothing.
Dean scrunches his brows together in confusion. “I’m sorry. What?”
“We’re just talking.” I shrug. “I’ve waited this long to move on. No need to rush it now.”
“Okaaaaay.” Smithy holds out a hand. “Lemme see her. I’ve gotten good at spotting the crazies.”
Dean snorts. “Sure you have.”
“No, man, I mean it. You can see it in their eyes.” Smithy circles a finger at his temple.
“Well, this girl has a picture of Jessica Rabbit as her avatar, so save your superpowers for another time.”
“Ooh,” Dean says. He pulls a face and rocks back on his heels. “Shit, man. My condolences.”
He and Smithy share a look, then Smithy nods and says, “Right?”
“What? Why?”
Laughing, Smithy drops the broom he was holding then bends at the waist as he laughs harder.
Dean points to him and nods. “He gets it.”
“Gets what? What are you idiots talking about?”
Smithy straightens and shakes his head. “She’s . . .” He gasps before he belly laughs. “She’s ugly.”
“What the fuck? Why would you assume that?”
Smithy looks to Dean, who just shakes his head. When Smithy turns to me, he swallows back his laughter and holds up a hand. “Listen, maybe she’s hot. It’s possible.”
“Totally possible,” Dean says, but then he ruins it by grunting out another laugh. “But Random is a hookup app. People aren’t on there because they want to find their soul mate. They’re on there for some—”
“Random,” Smithy says. “It’s about attraction and . . .” He curls his hands into fists and draws them back as he thrusts his hips a few times. “I guarantee she’d post a picture of herself if she was hot.”
“Attraction can be about more than appearance.” I grab a bag of trash in each hand and head out into the summer heat to the dumpster. The guys do the same. “I’d rather be turned on by a woman’s mind than her cup size.”
“Kace,” Dean calls, following behind me, “we’re not saying personality doesn’t factor into chemistry, but have you ever tried to have sex with someone you don’t find physically attractive?”
That’s a fucking stupid question, so I don’t dignify it with a response. “I’m saying physical attraction can grow from intellectual attraction. And anyway, maybe she uses that avatar because she looks like Jessica Rabbit.” I hoist the bags into the dumpster with a little too much aggression. Are my friends really this shallow?
Smithy tosses his in then wipes his hands on his jeans. “Is Jessica Rabbit even hot?”
“Fuck yes, she is.” The words are out of my mouth before I even think it through, and then I wish I could snatch them back. Maybe she looks like Jessica Rabbit. I direct all my attention to the bags in Dean’s hands, taking them from him and tossing them into the dumpster.
If anyone could be the real-life Jessica Rabbit, it’d be Stella Jacob, and I don’t exactly need her brother knowing how hot I think she is, especially since we’re messing around. Double especially since she’s moving in here.
“Sorry, man,” Dean says, “but I think your wishful thinking has gone a little too far.”
I risk turning back to my friends, but there’s no sign either one is thinking about Stella. Dean’s got that amused smirk on his face, and Smithy’s fucking around on his phone.
“I haven’t seen that movie since I was, like, six,” Smithy says, tapping on the screen. “Is that the one with the human-size duck?”
“I think that’s Howard the Duck,” Dean says.
Smithy grins. “Right. Howard. Watched that after eating some of my mom’s special brownies once, and damn, it was a trip.” He giggles. Yes, giggles. “Why does ‘Mom’s special brownies’ sound like a euphemism for some seriously hardcore kink?”
Dean cringes. “Because you’re messed up.”
“Oh, hell,” Smithy says, nodding at his screen. “Jessica is fine. I’d plow that. Think animated pussy is softer?”
“You’re disgusting,” I mutter, but I really don’t care if Smithy’s busting out the locker-room talk about a childhood animated favorite. Really, I’m just relieved Dean isn’t giving me the protective big-brother glare I probably deserve.
“So, when are you going to meet up with your Jessica Rabbit?” Dean asks.
I shrug. “Like I said, I’m not in a hurry.” Honestly, I’d rather wait until Stella and I have worked whatever we have going on out of our systems. Tuesday’s little taste of “dating other people” transparency was more than enough for me.