“Remind me why we ever stopped dating again,” he asks, his voice low and suggestive.
I exhale and shake my head with a girlish giggle. “Because you weren’t good enough for me.”
Dean flattens himself against the door and mimics the motion of a knife piercing his chest. “Don’t say that, Lynsey. I’m a changed man.”
I hit him with an unamused look. “You are a mountain manwhore who just two hours ago asked me to be your wingman.”
“That was before I knew how hot you’d look tonight.” His flirtatious smile would be butterfly-inducing if I still liked him in that way. “You know I’d come crawling back to you in a heartbeat—say the word.”
He reaches to pull me into his arms, but I laugh and shove him away. “Just this past summer, you professed your love for Kate. Now you want round two with me? I’m not a psychologist yet, but I know enough to inform you that you have boundary issues.”
“That’s such a lie!” he argues and then reaches into my bag and grabs a stick of gum.
I snatch my purse out of his hand. “See? Boundary issues! You can’t just be friends with a woman and not try sleeping with her. The fact that you and I never had sex is the only reason our friendship has remained intact.”
“It’s chewing gum, not your panties.” He pops the stick of gum into his mouth and chews obnoxiously with a grunt.
That grunt has my mind shifting from my short, basically nonexistent fling with Dean to Dr. Douchebag, who’s also a big fan of grunting. My blood boils all over again because all I can picture is that degrading face he made when he looked at me.
What. A. Dick.
And you know what? I bet if I looked like Kate, he’d have been more polite. She’s funny and comes off as one of the guys but looks like a damn movie star, so she’s impossible not to fall for. Hell, even Dean would’ve managed to defuse the situation. That manwhore has the ability to flirt with an asexual rock!
The asexual label was probably unnecessary for that analogy.
But me? What do I do? I stuff a fistful of pie in my face like a prize heifer. Maybe that’s why I’m pushing thirty and have only slept with a handful of guys.
The last one was Barry, the pharmacy tech, who looked like he’d been shot every time he climaxed.
I shudder.
No wonder I haven’t been laid in months. If my most recent experience is Barry, then the night is dark and full of terrors.
Turning on my heel, I paste on a determined smile. “Ready to go, wingman?”
He sighs heavily as he forlornly checks me out one more time. “I’m at your service.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re seated at Bitter Bar, one of my favorite spots in downtown Boulder. It’s a loungey, hipster scene with red mood lighting and rustic wood accents. Dean and I managed to grab two open stools at the end of the bar. We’re picking at a bowl of popcorn while waiting on drink number two when I get to the end of my cafeteria sob story.
“He basically accused me of having Munchausen syndrome!” I exclaim just as the bartender sets our fresh drinks in front of us.
“Here’s your IPA, sir. And here is your Birds and Bees cocktail, ma’am.” The bartender with a curly mustache spins on his heel and takes off without a look back.
My face falls. “When did I go from miss to ma’am?” I drop the popcorn kernels in my hand and pick up my cocktail for a pouty sip. The bartender’s dismissal of me is seriously dimming the sexual goddess vibe I walked in here with. “I’m a ma’am now?”
Dean rolls his eyes. “Finish your story.”
“I forgot where I was…That’s what happens to old people,” I mope.
“Lynsey, you’re twenty-seven. You’re not old. So what happened after he said you were breaking a socially acceptable rule?”
I sigh heavily. “That’s pretty much it. I stormed out of there and didn’t look back. Can you believe he said that, though? Between you, me, and Kate, who’s the most socially responsible one?”
“You,” Dean replies instantly.
“Exactly!” I exclaim and take another drink. “I’m always responsible. I do one little weird thing like work on my paper in a hospital cafeteria for a few months, which, by the way, isn’t a crime, and it blows up in my face.” My words rip open the wound all over again.
“Total bullshit,” Dean confirms.
“Kate snuck into a tire shop to work, and she got a hot mechanic out of the deal. Life can be so unfair.”
“I know,” Dean replies and follows suit with his drink.
“I don’t even get why he cared that I was there. You’d think a doctor would have better things to do with their time. And I’d swear he wanted my pie. You should have seen the way he was looking at it.”
“No man gets that upset over pie.” Dean reaches for the popcorn and gets a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Are you sure he didn’t want something else?”
I shrug, my eyes slightly foggy from the effects of the alcohol. “He stared more at the pie than he did at me.”
“Bullshit.” He twists my stool so my crossed legs swerve around to stop between his outstretched ones. “Lynsey, you’re beautiful. I’ve told you for years that you’re the hot girl next door. Why are you being like this right now?”
“I have pie butt.” My voice quivers.
“You do not have pie butt!” Dean’s voice rises angrily. “I don’t even know what pie butt is. However, it’s most certainly not what you have. You have a sexy ass, Lynsey…I’m telling you, when you walked downstairs tonight, I got a little chub.”
My eyes light, and I can’t hide the grin lifting the corner of my mouth as I unabashedly glance at his groin. “You did?”
He shrugs. “I’m a pig, what can I say?”
“Aww, Dean. There you go, being charming again.” I turn and drop my head on his shoulder and sigh heavily. “I wish I could be charming. Maybe then Dr. Dick and I would’ve ended up in the sack together instead of him threatening to call for a psych evaluation.”
“Well, don’t worry about it. You’re done with your paper, and you don’t have to go back there ever again.”
“Cheers to that!” I straighten to clink my glass to his.
We take a drink.
“Now I just have to focus on finding a job after graduation next month so I don’t have to move.”
“Move?” Dean asks, his brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“My grandma’s lease ends in three months. If I don’t find a really good job, I won’t be able to stay.”
“Are you kidding?” Dean snaps, pulling his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“What are you getting so angry for?” I ask, watching his entire body go stiff.
He hits me with his chocolate eyes. “I had no idea you couldn’t afford the townhouse. Why didn’t you talk to me?”
“Talk to you about what?”
“Your finances! I could have invested what you should have been paying in rent, and you could have turned a profit and squeaked a few more months out of it. Maybe even a year.”