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“We dated the summer before I turned seventeen. He was nineteen. Things were great. Better than great. It felt like forever.” She raked a hand through her long dark hair and let out a shaky sigh. “And then it didn’t.”
I didn’t have to ask what happened. I could see it on her face. Declan broke her heart. “I’m sorry, Tess.” I say quietly.
“It was a long time ago. I’ve moved on.” She gives me the kind of smile that almost convinces me she’s telling the truth. “Conner hasn’t, but I have,” she says with a laugh that succeeds in breaking the tension in the air. “I don’t understand what the big deal is. You’re not exactly shy when it comes to getting what you want.”
She’s right. As far as partners go, I’m no Conner Gilroy—but I’m no shy virgin either. But just because she’s right doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting to hear her say it out loud. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She must hear the hurt in my tone because she sighs. “You’re not a slut. You’re not. There’s nothing wrong with a woman enjoying sex and fuck James Templeton. He’s a dickbag and I’ve always hated him and his smarmy, smug, dickbag face.”
I laugh, even though I know she’s being serious. She’s a solid six inches shorter than I am and tiny. I mean tiny—but if Tess ever got her hands on James I know he’d limp away, missing more than a few vital parts. “You’re so adorable when you get angry—you’re like a homicidal Tinkerbell.”
“Fuck you, Faraday,” she says but she’s smiling at me so I know she doesn’t mean it. “But seriously, maybe a couple bouts of respectable, puritan sex with Predictable Patrick is just what you need to cleanse the palate.”
Predictable Patrick. We’ve been calling him that behind his back for years. Safe, predictable Patrick. He’s nothing like the guys I usually go for. For starters, he’s nice. Guys like him go for Kindergarten teachers who wear pastel-colored sweater sets and volunteer at soup kitchens on the weekends.
That’s not me.
Not even close.
Patrick hadn’t even known me and he’d agreed to take me home. I practically gave him a hand job in my driveway but instead of dragging me into the backseat—where I’d have gone willingly—he waited for me to finish embarrassing myself and said goodnight. He even waited for me to let myself in before he drove away. Three years later and I can still remember what it felt like to have his mouth on mine.
“I can’t do that,” I tell her shaking my head. I wish I had the guts to make the first move but I don’t. Not with Patrick. Not again. Because if he rejected me all over again, I’m not sure I’d recover.
“Okay,” she says, attacking the problem from a different angle. “So, we’re gonna have to force him to come to you.”
“Force him?” I place a hand on my forehead and let out a sigh. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation,” I say, letting out a sharp bark of laughter.
“Well, we are.” Tess leans into the space between us. “Because that boy is too buttoned-up for his own good. He’s never going to make a move on you...” She gave a mischievous grin. “Unless you push him into it.”
“And how do you I suggest I do that?” I can’t believe she’s suggesting any of it. “Traipse around his apartment naked? Offer to loofa his back while he’s taking a shower?”
“Not naked—” That grin of her turned downright evil. “half-naked should do nicely... and the loofa wouldn’t hurt.” She looks at me like I’m crazy for even considering passing up the opportunity.
“It’ll never work,” I tell her. “Patrick is different than most guys. He’s not going to make a move on me, just because I make him horny. He’s a gentleman.” A gorgeous, sexy as fuck gentleman.
“He’s into you,” Tess says, shaking her head at me, refusing to let it go.
Now I know she’s crazy. “He’s really not, Tess.” I laugh. “Trust me, I know.”
“He was ready to take a bat to James’ head.” She said it like she was presenting key evidence in the trial of the century. “And he would’ve too, if dickface Declan hadn’t stopped him.”
Dickface Declan. I smother another laugh while shaking my head. “He would’ve done the same thing for you and you know it,” I say and the look on her face tells me she knows I’m right.
“Anyway, who cares if you’re his type?” Tess raked a hand through her long, dark hair. “You wanna ride his disco stick—not marry him, right?”
I hold up a hand between us. “Please—don’t say disco stick again. Ever,” I say, my face scrunched up but she wasn’t wrong. I’d been secretly drooling over Patrick since that night in his car... “And yes, I do,” I say cautiously. “But he’ll never fall for it.”
“I beg to differ.” Tess shakes her head at me like I’m a lost, little lamb.
“I know Patrick.” I know he doesn’t want me. “It will never work.”
“Alright Faraday...” Tess grinned at me. “Put your money were your mouth is.”
The second I sayyes, Patrick drags me upstairs to his apartment to show me the place and he’s right. The spare bedroom is perfect.
It’s large—taking up a third of the apartment’s square footage—and bright. The interior walls are painted a lovely slate blue which offset the exposed the brick of their exterior counterparts. Gorgeous hardwood peeked out from beneath the drop cloth he used to protect the floor while he painted. He’s torn out the ceiling, and exposed the beams, the steep angle of the roof setting off a beautiful arched alcove. The wrought iron bed he picked up at a flea market a few weeks ago is set up across from an enormous bay window with the most fantastic view of the harbor I’ve ever seen. Patrick’s room is little more than a cave by comparison.
“You only want $200 a month for this?” I shake my head, turning a slow circle. I caught the smell of fresh paint and the faint scent of sawdust. “That hardly seems fair, Patrick.”