Page 16 of Revelation (The Josh & Kat Trilogy #2)

“Jesus. Who knows what fucked up shit Faraday will do then?” Reed says. “He’ll probably get himself a midlife-crisis car like a fucking Lamborghini or some shit like that. Oh, whoops. Already did that.”

“He’s got a Lamborghini ?” Carmen whispers to me, her eyes wide.

I nod and she mouths, “Wow.”

“Hey, might as well have the douche-car to match the douche-tattoos,” Josh says, clearly not the least bit offended by Reed’s jab. “Like I always say, ‘Go big or go home.’ Right, Kat?”

I lean into Josh and put my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I feel like an idiot.”

He kisses the top of my head. “We’re just teasing you, babe,” he whispers back. “It’s what we do if we like you. No worries—never worry in this crowd. We’re just playing.”

“So how about forty, big guy?” Henn asks Josh. “Can you imagine that?”

Josh shrugs but doesn’t reply. He takes a bite of his food.

“Well, I can picture all of us at forty,” Henn says. “We’re all exactly the same as we are now—strikingly handsome, fucking geniuses—only difference is we’re married and driving minivans full of screaming kids.”

Reed makes a scoffing noise. “I think your crystal ball’s got a loose wire, bro—at least relating to me.” He swigs his drink.

“No ‘married with children’ for you?” I ask Reed. But, really, I’m indirectly asking Josh—hoping maybe he’ll join in the conversation. Why has he gone suddenly mute?

Reed shakes his head emphatically. “No, thanks. I’m gonna be an eternal bachelor. Dudes like that have the right idea.”

“I think there are plenty of men who think they’ll never get married, but do,” Carmen says. “When they meet the right woman.”

“I think so, too,” I agree.

“Not me,” Reed says. “I’ll be the last man standing.”

“I’m with the girls on that one,” Henn says. “When a man finds the right woman, he doesn’t wanna let her go. Okay, maybe not you, Reed. You’re admittedly a tough nut to crack. But, still, even with you, a man can never say never.”

“Oh, you can say never when it comes to me,” Reed replies with a chuckle. “I’d bet anything on that.” He winks at Henn. “Wanna make a bet with me on that, Henny? Name your price.”

Henn rolls his eyes. “Don’t even try your Jedi mind tricks on me. Unless we’re playing poker, I’m never betting against you again. I’ve learned my lesson on that.”

Josh laughs.

Reed looks at Carmen. “Why do you think that about self-proclaimed eternal bachelors? Have you witnessed a guy like that changing his tune?”

Carmen shakes her head. “No. But I think if someone is a generally passionate person, they can’t always predict how they’ll react when it comes to love.

Passionate people are always the ones who fall the hardest, I think.

Men who feel positive they’d never get married have probably never experienced true love. ”

Carmen looks lovingly at Will, and he leans in and kisses his girlfriend on the cheek.

“I agree with Carmen,” Henn says. “When a man finds the right woman, it’s a game-changer.” He snorts. “So I hear.”

“Aw, it sounds like you’re a diehard romantic, Henn,” Carmen says.

“Maybe I am. All I know is I’d love to be married one day to the right girl and maybe even have a little baby. A little daughter maybe. I think that’d be really nice.”

“Really?” I say. “That’s so sweet, Henny.” I feel myself blushing. I sneak a peek at Josh—he’s sipping his drink, not saying a word—and my cheeks blaze even hotter.

“What about you two?” Henn asks, and my stomach seizes—but when I glance at Henn, ready to deflect his question, he’s looking straight at Will and Carmen, not at Josh and me.

Will and Carmen look at each other for a beat. “Um,” Carmen finally says. “Well, I’d love a family one day. But I think that’s a loooooong way off.”

Will laughs. “Good answer.” He wipes his brow comically. “Phew.”

I can’t bring myself to look at Josh right now and I’m not sure why. My skin feels electrified. “So what about you, Will? What does your future hold, ya think?” I ask, trying to deflect attention from my hot cheeks.

“Oh, I can answer that,” Reed says. “Will’s gonna be a mega-superstar.” He holds up his drink and everyone follows suit. “A toast. To 2Real—the next big superstar.”

“Hear, hear,” everyone says, clinking glasses.

Carmen leans over and kisses Will on his cheek and he smiles.

“My boy 2Real’s gonna be a household name, mark my words,” Reed continues.

“Thanks, Reed.”

“No need to thank me, man. I’m just telling it like it is.

You’re a fucking genius.” Reed addresses the group.

“After my party the other night, Will and Dean sat down with an acoustic guitar and started messing around, and within an hour, they’d written the bones for the most badass song you’ve ever heard in your life.

The thing’s gonna be a smash hit.” He snaps his fingers. “And they wrote it just like that.”

“It’s totally awesome,” Carmen agrees. “I can’t get it out of my head.”

Will’s eyes are sparkling with sudden animation. “Dean and I totally hit it off—brothers from another mother. We’re planning to record it in L.A. next month after Red Card Riot’s tour ends.”

“I bet we’ll wind up making it the lead single off your album,” Reed says. “It’s just that good.”

“What’s it called?” I ask. “When I hear it on the radio a year from now, I wanna remember this conversation and say, ‘I knew him when.’”

“We’ll probably call it ‘Crash,’” Will says. “It’s pretty dope, if I do say so myself. Best song I’ve ever written. I can’t wait to get into the studio and get it down—I’ve got a million ideas for the instrumentation. I’m gonna do something really unexpected with it.”

Reed rubs his hands together. “I smell a hit.”

The waiter arrives to clear dishes and bring refills on drinks.

“What about you, Party Girl with a Hyphen?” Josh asks, breaking his long silence. “What do you see in your future?”

“Um...” I say. Josh didn’t answer this question earlier, I noticed, so I’ll be damned if I will.

Although, if I were being honest, I’d tell him I’m beginning to see a future that includes him.

“Well, I’d really like to own my own PR firm one day,” I say, opting for a safe but true answer to the question.

Josh looks completely floored by my answer. “Wow,” he says. “Really? That’s awesome. I had no idea. ‘Party Girl PR.’”

“Hey, I like it,” I say.

“Well, fingers crossed, maybe you’ll come into a million bucks one day soon and you can make that happen sooner than you ever imagined.” He winks.

I grin broadly. Crazy as it sounds, I’d actually forgotten about the million bucks Jonas and Josh promised me if we’re actually successful in transferring The Club’s money tomorrow.

“Oh yeah, speaking of PR,” Reed says, “thanks for all your hard work on the campaign for my club, Kat.” He laughs. “Impeccable work so far.”

“Thanks for being my client,” I say. “Was it you who called my boss and charmed her pants off?”

“Yeah, I called her,” Reed replies. “And I couldn’t have been more insistent we had to have you personally. But I just picked up the phone. It was Josh who paid the bill—he’s really the one to thank, not me.” He winks at Josh.

I flash a huge smile at Josh. “Well, thank you both. I’m really grateful I’ve been able to hang out here all this time without losing my job.”

“Anything for Josh,” Reed says. “I can’t even count all the favors this dude has done for me over the years. Josh Faraday might have douche-y tattoos and a midlife crisis car, and he might think he’s one hundred percent right about Happy Gilmore when he’s dead wrong, and he might—”

“ Okay ,” Josh says emphatically. “I think she gets the point, Reed. I’m an idiot and a douche. Move on to the good stuff.”

“ But, ” Reed continues. “Josh Faraday is the best friend a guy could ask for and one of the best humans you’ll ever meet.”

“I’m not sure if I should kiss you or bitch slap you,” Josh says.

Reed puckers and Josh laughs.

Quickly, Josh, Reed, and Henn launch into another snarky conversation about something or other—but I’ve stopped listening to them.

I’m suddenly too busy gazing at Josh and thinking about how cute he is when he laughs with his friends.

I’m thinking about how beautiful his blue eyes are, especially set off by the blue jacket he’s wearing and in the flickering candlelight of this swanky restaurant.

I’m remembering the vulnerable look on Josh’s face when I opened my door to him last night, and how he melted into my arms without saying a word besides, “Kat.” I’m wondering how a man can suffer so much heartbreak in his life—his mom’s murder, his dad’s suicide, his brother being institutionalized, his heart getting broken—and yet still manage to laugh and joke around with his friends the way he’s doing right now, like he doesn’t have a care in the world .

I’m thinking all these thoughts and a whole lot more as I stare at Josh in the candlelight and hold his hand in mine.

I lean my head against his muscled shoulder and take a sip of my drink with my free hand and let out a long, relaxed, happy exhale.

Yes, I’m thinking a thousand thoughts right now—and all of them about Joshua William Faraday.

The table erupts in laughter again at something Henn just said. But I’m not listening to the conversation. I turn my face and take a long whiff of Josh’s cologne, and my crotch tingles.

At my movement, Josh kisses the side of my head, even as he’s still engaged in conversation with the table, and my heart skips a beat.

Holy shit.

I want him.

And with each passing day, each passing minute, I seem to want Josh more and more.

I want to take him home to meet my family and watch football on the couch and eat my mom’s famous chili and watch my brothers make fun of him relentlessly for one thing or another.

I want to make love to him in my apartment, slowly, for hours, and then drift off to sleep, and not wonder whether he’ll be there when I wake up in the morning.

I want to see where he lives in L.A. and sit in the passenger seat of his car, whether it’s a Lamborghini or Hyundai, while he drives me to his favorite bar—whether it’s a dive bar or some hot spot—and I don’t want any other woman—any other blonde —to sit in that seat besides me.

I squeeze Josh’s hand and he squeezes back.

But feeling this way about any man, especially the world’s most eligible bachelor—a playboy who dates supermodels and celebrities (and who, by the way, clearly has a pervy-streak a mile long)—sure seems like an extremely precarious thing to do.