Page 11 of Infatuation (The Josh & Kat Trilogy #1)

“So how are you doing, Playboy?” Kat writes. “Are you okay? Must be hard trying to keep Jonas on track all the time. From what I saw at Jonas’ house, you have your work cut out for you.”

Yeah, there’s no question about it: this text exchange with Kat is a sign from God. I can’t remember the last time a woman asked me sincerely how I’m doing.

“Thanks for asking,” I write. “I’m okay. I just decided to stop being a total douche so I’m doing pretty good.”

Jonas sits down next to me on the couch and hands me a juice concoction that looks like it was squeezed out of an alien.

“Thanks,” I say.

He doesn’t reply, but instead turns up the volume on the basketball game .

“You’ve decided to stop being a douche? So you were a douche and now you’re magically not one anymore?” Kat writes.

“Correct,” I write.

“Any particular thing that’s inspired your decision to make douchebaggery a thing of the past?”

“Nope. Just had to be done.”

“Hey, you wanna start working on our business plan?” Jonas asks, swatting my thigh. “I’ve got a thousand ideas.”

“When the game’s over,” I say to Jonas. “There’s only ten more minutes left.” I look at my phone again. “Hey, can you talk rather than text?” I type to Kat, suddenly yearning to hear her voice.

“Not right now. I’m just now leaving a client meeting with my boss. We’re heading back to the office in her car.”

“What do you do?”

“I work at a PR firm. We just met with a client about a social media campaign for a chain of barbeque restaurants.”

“How’d it go?”

“Good. They loved everything I came up with, except for my proposed slogan. (Damn it!) But I’m gonna work on it with this awesome girl from my office when I get back to the office. No worries.”

“Hey, I’ve got a great slogan you can use. My gift to you.”

“Awesome. I’ll take any help I can get. Hit me.”

“I’ve got your pulled pork right here, baby!”

“LOL. OMG. That’s actually kind of brillz. This chain is all about being brash and blue-collar and funny. They might actually like it.”

“Oh no. That wasn’t my slogan idea. That was just me trying to sweet talk you, PG. The slogan idea is this: ‘Hey, if you like barbeque, then we’d appreciate it if you’d eat at our restaurant. Thank you.’ What do you think? Pure genius, right?”

“OMG. I’m literally laughing out loud right now in my boss’ car. You’re a PR whiz, PB.”

“I’ve got all kinds of mad skillz, PG. I’m a wise and powerful man; you should know that up front.”

“And a total douche—oh, wait, except that you’re not now. Scratch that.” She attaches a winking emoji.

“Exactly. You only live once, right? Best not to waste valuable time being a total douche. ”

“Hey! I say that ALL THE TIME,” she writes.

“You say ‘best not to waste valuable time being a total douche’ all the time?”

“Haha. No. I say, ‘You only live once.’”

“So do I. YOLO. It’s kind of my thing.”

“Oh, God, no! Not YOLO. Don’t say YOLO! Oh, the humanity!”

“Douchey?”

“Yes. Don’t do it!

“What about ‘go big or go home.’ Can I say that? Because I say that all the time, too,” I write.

“Yes. And you may also say, ‘I can sleep when I’m dead.’ Those are fine. Just not YOLO,” she writes.

“What about ‘Work hard, play hard’? I say that one all the time, too.”

“You like spiffy little catchphrases, huh?”

“Hey, at least I’m not running around quoting Plato all the time.”

“What’s wrong with Plato?” she writes.

“Hang around my crazy-ass brother for a day and you’ll see.”

“LOL. Okay.”

“Oh, I just thought of another one I say all the time. ‘Under-promise and over-perform.’”

“Oh, words to live by,” she writes.

“I do. Religiously.”

“Interesting.”

“So is that it?” I write. “I can say all that stuff, just not YOLO?”

“Correct. Just not YOLO. EVER. Though you CAN say the actual words ‘you only live once.’ Just not ‘YOLO.’”

“So many fucking rules. Jesus.”

“Dude, I don’t make the rules. I just enforce them.”

I laugh out loud.

“And for God’s sake don’t get a YOLO tattoo!” she writes. “Promise me!”

I burst out laughing. “I make no such promise.”

“Don’t do it!”

“How about a YOLO tattoo on my ass? Can I do that?”

“LOL! The absolute worst possible scenario! DO NOT DO IT! TOTALLY AGAINST THE RULES!!!! ”

I can’t stop laughing. “There’s something you really should know about me, PG: I like breaking rules.”

“Do what you must, but you’ve been warned. A YOLO tattoo is social suicide.”

I laugh again. “Okay. Good to know. So what other really uncool things should I avoid like the plague besides a YOLO tattoo on my ass? Help an old man out.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty,” I write.

“Holy shitballs! Where’s your walker?”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Aw, just a kitten.”

“Meow.”

“This is good. I need help from a whippersnapper like yourself to keep me in the cool. What else should I absolutely avoid, according to these rules of yours?

“Not MY rules. They’re just THE rules.”

“Okay. What else is against THE rules?”

“A barbed-wire tattoo around your bicep fo shizzles. Don’t do it.”

I laugh to myself. I couldn’t agree more with that one. “Okay,” I write. “I promise I won’t get that no matter how drunk I am.”

“And don’t get a tribal band around your bicep, either, unless you’re from the Islands. Are you an Islander, Josh?”

“Nope. Duly noted.”

“Or dragon. Cliché.”

I laugh. “Really?”

“Yup. And God help you if you get a girlfriend’s name tattooed onto your arm. Just ask Johnny Depp. He had to get ‘Winona Forever’ lasered to ‘Wino Forever.’ Lasers are painful, Josh. Not good. Don’t do it.”

“Yeah, I could see how that could be a bit of an oops.”

“A little gold hoop in your left ear. Don’t do it.”

“Jesus. The Rules are as long as my fucking arm. Anything else?”

“Nope. Avoid all that redonkulousness and you’ll be super cool. ”

“So you’re allowed to use the word redonkulousness and I can’t say YOLO?”

“Correct. Again, let me repeat. I do not make THE rules. I merely enforce them.”

I laugh out loud again.

“Whoa, did you see that?” Jonas says, swatting my knee.

I look up and catch the instant replay of a smooth-as-silk pass and dunk on TV.

“Sweet,” I say. But I don’t care about the game right now. I’m having too much fun playing with a certain little kitten. I look back at my phone.

“Hey, my boss is about to get off her phone call, so I better go,” she writes.

“Josh,” Jonas says. “Game’s over. You ready to do some Climb & Conquer?”

“I gotta go, too,” I write. “My captor has summoned me. Hey, you’ve still got those bodyguards around the clock, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Stay safe. Have a good one, PG.”

“You, too, PB. Have fun with your captor.”

“Thanks. He’s always an adventure, for sure.”

“Who are you texting with?” Jonas asks.

I look up. Jonas has already opened his laptop. He’s staring at me.

“Just a girl.”

Jonas gives me a knowing look. “No sexting when you’re sitting on a couch with me. Ew.”

“Fuck you. Come on. Climb & Conquer, baby. Let’s do this. I’m chomping at the bit to get our baby launched, put out the press release. Hey, when are we gonna tell Uncle William we’re both leaving the company, by the way?”

“Soon,” Jonas says. “I just gotta figure some shit out first. With both of us leaving . . .” He lets out an anxious breath. “I don’t want Uncle William to feel like we’re deserting him.”

“I know, but it is what it is. I’ll be seeing him next week at the board meeting,” I say. “Why don’t I tell him then?”

“No, just wait,” Jonas says. “Lemme figure out the game plan first, get my strategy into place, write the press release. I really wanna tell him in person together. ”

Jonas looks so wracked with anxiety, I don’t have the heart to argue with him. “Okay, bro, whatever you say.” I pat his cheek. “No worries. But I really should go to that meeting, regardless. Are you gonna be okay if I leave and go to New York next week?”

“Of course. You don’t have to babysit me. I’m a grown-ass man.”

“I know.”

There’s a long pause.

“But thanks for babysitting me,” Jonas finally says. He exhales. “Thanks for coming when I called.”

“I always will.”

We smile at each other.

“Okay, Climb & Conquer,” Jonas says. “Our baby. Let’s figure out how to give her legs.”

“And then wings.” I rub my hands together. “It’s gonna be fucking awesome, bro.”

“Fuck yeah, it is. I’ve got the whole thing planned in my head. Now to flesh it out and make it real.”

Jonas launches into an animated monologue about his vision for our new company, but as excited as I am about the whole thing, my mind keeps wandering.

I keep thinking about Kat, her golden blonde hair swooshing across her naked shoulders, those big blue eyes of hers staring at me as she rides me.

Or sucks me off. Or as I fuck her nice and slow, my hands cupping her breasts.

Shit. Just thinking about her is making me hard again.

“Hey, are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Jonas asks. “I’m bursting at the seams to tell you this stuff and your eyes are glazed over.”

“Sorry. Got distracted. I’m totally listening now. Shoot.”

Jonas looks at me sideways. “Does this have anything to do with whoever you were texting a minute ago?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” I say. “But if it does , it’s because she’s so fucking hot, no mortal man could resist her.”

Jonas laughs. “You’re talking about Kat, aren’t you? She’s exactly your type, man.”

I grin broadly. “Never mind. Come on,” I say, rubbing my hands together. “Climb & Conquer. Let’s do this shit. I’ve never been more excited about anything in my entire life.”