The Bookworm's Guide to Flirting (The Bookworm's Guide 3)

“That’s not really how it works.”

“Fine, who makes the guy realize he’s gay.”

“No, not that, either.”

“Oh, my God, fine. It’s not fun being the girl who makes the guy realize he needs to come out of the closet.”

“There we go.”

She stabbed her fork into a piece of lasagna. “It’s just not as dramatic that way,” she muttered, then shoveled the food into her mouth.

I’d just taken a sip of beer and laughed. The beer went straight up my nose, burning my nostrils, and made me choke.

She looked at me with one eyebrow quirked and a mischievous glint in her eye that told me I deserved that.

I probably did, but I was just being as annoying as she usually was.

“There was also the guy who was just downright awful. Kept canceling dates, standing me up, and blaming it all on work. Turned out his ex was pregnant, and he kept standing me up to run around after her.”

“Not that standing you up was right, but I kinda get that.”

“Really? The baby wasn’t even his.”

“All right, never mind. What’s number five?”

“The most recent. Like, last year, and the reason I dyed my hair pink.”

I glanced at her hair. I liked it, and I was not at all surprised to hear it was the result of a break-up. “Really?”

“Yeah, it was supposed to be a short-term thing, but it grew on me.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I’d been seeing this guy for a few weeks, then caught him at dinner with another girl. She was his girlfriend.”

“Oh, shit. What did you do?”

“I did what any self-respecting woman would do her. I told he he’d been sending me pictures of his miserable little penis for the last six weeks and hadn’t once said her name when he was in bed with me.”

“Exactly like that?”

“Exactly like that,” she confirmed.

“Little harsh, don’t you think?”

“Nah. She’s a kickboxer. She punched him in the face, left him with the bill, and we went to a bar and got drunk together.”

Again, I blinked at her. Her ability to turn any kind of bad situation into something positive was astounding. Nobody—nobody—was that capable of it.

Surely?

“I have no idea how to respond to that. Are you still friends?”

“Yep,” Saylor said brightly, twisting a bit of her hair around her finger. “She drives over a couple times a month to visit the store. The gym her parents own actually stock some of our tanks and hoodies now. Oh!” She reached over and tapped the table. “Remind me that I have to get some more tanks printed and sent over.”

“You want me to remind you?”

“Well, I’m going to forget in ten minutes. Don’t act like you won’t still remember this six months from now.”

I smirked. “I’ll leave you a note on the fridge tomorrow morning.”

Her wine was brought over at the perfect moment. With a grin, she lifted it up. “Cheers to that.”

***

“I had sssssooooo much fine tonight!” Saylor gripped onto my arm tightly. “Did yooouuuu? Did you have fine?”

“You had so much fine?” I bit back a laugh and, after carefully extracting my arm from her claw-like grip, wrapped it around her to steady her. “Is that the same as fun?”

“Ssshh. Don’t be a killjoy.” she said, leaning into me in an attempt to press her finger against my mouth.

Given that she was drunk, she missed.

By my entire chest.

And her finger was now trailing awfully close to my belt.

“Ooookay,” I said, grabbing her hand before it got really uncomfortable. I steered her into the lift at our apartment building and hit the number for our floor. She was still mumbling about something, but as the lift juddered to a halt, she hiccupped and giggled.

Oh, good.

She was that drunk.

I knew the post-dinner shots for everyone was not on Holley’s itinerary.

In everyone’s defense, she should not have left us all unattended. Not that I’d partaken in them—I’d seen Saylor and Tori sink three each before me and Colton quickly realized it was not a good idea for us to join them.

“Okay, we’re home.” I unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Let’s get you some water and paracetamol so you can go to bed.”

“To bed? Are you coming?”

“To my own bed while you are in yours,” I clarified, helping her into the apartment. I quickly diverted her to the sofa where she dropped down, her dress riding up to her hips, and kicked off her heels.

I ignored the glimpse of black, lacy underwear.

Totally ignored it.

Fuck sake.

I left her giggling into her hands on the sofa and walked into the annoyingly girly kitchen to get her that water and some painkillers. God only knew she was going to need them, but at least she wasn’t scheduled to work tomorrow.

“Do you know something?” Saylor asked with a light slur. “If you weren’t my roommate, I’d so date the fuck out of you.”