Page 31 of Revelation (The Josh & Kat Trilogy #2)

I sigh. “One would think. But we’re exclusive only temporarily. It’s hard to explain.”

“ Temporarily exclusive? That’s a new one. I gotta steal that.”

“It was me who suggested it.”

He flashes me a look that says, “You’re an idiot.”

I rub my face. “This week was just a unique set of circumstances. We were together day and night, doing this crazy thing to help Sarah, and it was this incredible, fairytale existence. It’s like we were in the fantasy suite on The Bachelor for an entire week—and my feelings for him were so freaking intense and surreal—and now it’s like the show is over and the cameras are off and it’s back-to-reality time. ”

Dax nods.

I shake my head. “I just don’t know if what we felt in Vegas will translate to real life. Plus, he lives in L.A. and travels a ton and I’m here, obviously. So, I dunno, it might be kinda tough to keep the fantasy alive.”

Dax motions to the Sybian. “Looks like he’s giving it the ol’ college try.”

I bite my lip to suppress a huge smile.

“I must say, giving you a Sybian as a gift is an interesting choice—he could have gone with shoes or a purse.”

“Oh, he did. Both.”

“And you still don’t know if he’s serious about you? I think you might be overanalyzing things here. The guy’s making his feelings pretty clear.”

I sigh. “I don’t wanna get my hopes up.”

“This is so unlike you. Why are you being so...?”

“Analytical?”

“Annoying.”

I make a face. “I don’t know. Josh and I are just so incredibly.

..” I was about to say sexual , but then I remember I’m talking to my little brother, not to Sarah.

“ Physical ,” I say, opting for a tamer word to finish my sentence.

“The physical chemistry is so off the charts, it makes me wonder if I’m just in some sort of hormone-induced coma and not seeing things clearly. ”

“Just because you have incredible physical chemistry with the guy doesn’t mean it’s not serious, too,” he says.

“So I’ve heard. But from what I’ve seen personally, at least as an adult, it’s one or the other.”

He pulls back and looks at me, stupefied. “Are you serious?” he asks.

I nod.

“Jizz, that’s fucked up. How’d you get so fucked up?”

I shrug.

“You can have off-the-charts physical chemistry without it being ‘serious,’ for sure—and thank God for that.” He snickers.

“But it doesn’t work the other way around: you absolutely cannot have something serious if you don’t have physical chemistry.

The fact that you think it’s one or the other is so fucked up, it’s pathetic.

It’s like you’ve got a... what’s the word I’m looking for. .. that complex thing?”

I make a face. “A Madonna-whore complex?”

“Exactly. Only in reverse. What’s it called when a woman thinks that about a guy?”

“A Jesus-manwhore complex?”

We both laugh.

“Yeah, I don’t think society has a cute little phrase for when it’s a guy.”

“What about that Nate guy?” Dax asks. “You guys were pretty serious, right?”

“Serious, yes, but we were sort of blah in the physical department,” I say. “At least it was blah for me.”

“Ooph. I think maybe you do have a Madonna-whore complex when it comes to guys, sis, whatever it’s called—like you somehow think the guys who turn you on the most can’t possibly be boyfriend material.”

I make a face. He might have a point there. Hmm.

“But that’s the whole point of this grand experiment we call life—finding the serious stuff and the physical stuff all rolled up together into one fucking awesome person.

“How’d you get so deep at such a tender age?” I ask.

Dax grabs my hand and kisses it, a move that instantly makes me think of Josh .

“That’s not even a remotely deep thing to say, sis,” Dax says. “It’s pretty fucking basic. I think maybe you’re just particularly stupid when it comes to relationships.”

I know Dax is kidding, sort of, but I think he might be on to something here—I think I might very well be particularly stupid when it comes to relationships involving me.

“I think when the sex is crazy-good-off-the-charts with a guy, it makes me kinda skittish in a twisted way,” I say.

“Like I think things are too good to be true—and then I start shutting down emotionally to protect myself and the whole thing becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Dax squeezes my hand but doesn’t reply.

“The thing is, with this guy Josh, the physical part is so freaking good, he could be Jeffrey Dahmer and I’d be like, ‘Oh, em, gee, Jeff, you’re such a sweetheart!’”

Dax laughs.

“And that scares me. I feel like I might have a huge blind spot. But on top of that, horror of horrors, he’s funny and sweet and generous, too, and he makes me feel really special.

” I shake my head. “I guess I’m just trying to figure out if he’s really as perfect as he seems?

Or if this is just too good to be true.”

“Well, have you seen any chopped up body parts in his freezer?”

“No, but I haven’t been to his house yet. Stay tuned.”

“He lives in L.A.?”

I nod.

“What does he do?”

“He runs some sort of investment company with his brother and uncle. Other than that, he climbs rocks with his brother and parties with rock stars and supermodels. Get this: he used to date Gabrielle LeMonde’s daughter.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, and that model that’s on all the Victoria’s Secret commercials—Bridgette something—the blonde with the perfect body? Her, too.”

“Bridgette Schmidt ,” Dax says reverently. “Oh my God. She’s my top desert-island pick. Your guy dated her ? Wow.”

“Well, actually, come to think of it, I don’t know if he dated her, but he certainly did her.”

“Damn, who the fuck is this guy? Jesus. I guess he’s a major playah-playah, huh? Maybe that’s the ‘not-so-perfect’ thing you’re afraid is lurking in the shadows of his tormented soul.”

I sigh. “He’s not as big a playah-playah as he sounds.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, he definitely likes having sex with gorgeous women—when Josh Faraday is single, he’s apparently very single—but I don’t think he’s as much of a playboy as I initially thought.

He had this long-term girlfriend he was really devoted to.

.. ” I shrug. “But, then again, he had a heart attack on the phone just now when he thought I was trying to pin him down to something beyond next week.” I roll my eyes and lean my head back onto the back of the couch.

“Aw, shit, I dunno, Dax. I need to just chill the fuck out and stop overanalyzing things. I’m acting like a chick. ”

“You totally are. I’ve never seen you act like this. You know what you need to do?” Dax says. “Tap into your inner Peen. That’ll cure your chickiness right up.”

“Nobody should ever tap into their inner Peen,” I say. “Even Peen should stop tapping into his inner Peen.”

We both have a good laugh about that.

“So why did this Faraday guy send you a fucking Sybian?” Dax asks. “Did you lose a bunch of money to him in a high-stakes poker game and now you’ve gotta do porn to pay off your debt?”

“He’s not a porn king, Dax. Gimme some credit. He’s this—I don’t even know what he does, actually. Google him. His company is called Faraday & Sons—Joshua Faraday.”

Dax pulls out his phone and Googles while I talk.

“It’s some sort of investment thing. He travels all the time, looking at potential companies to buy—I don’t even know what he does. He never talks about it.”

“Oh, wow,” Dax says. He’s found the homepage of Faraday & Sons. “Were these guys genetically engineered by Monsanto or what? Which one is your guy?”

“The one with the dark hair. The other guy’s his fraternal twin brother, Jonas—Sarah’s new boyfriend, actually.”

“Whoa, Sarah’s dating Thor?”

“Yeah. And he adores her. I’ve never seen two people more into each other in all my life.”

“Aw, good for her.” He scrutinizes the photo for a long beat. “Well, now I can see why you’re feeling a tad bit confused. I’m completely straight and I’d do him, especially if he bought me a dress and shoes and a Sybian.”

I laugh.

Dax continues scrutinizing the photo. “He’s exactly your type, only the best-looking version of it I’ve ever seen. He looks a lot like that football-player dude you dated in high school.”

I shrug. “Yeah, I know. I guess I’ve got a type.”

“What was his name again?”

“Kade.”

“That’s right. He looks like he could be Kade’s older, better-looking brother.

” Dax looks up from the phone and appraises me with sympathetic eyes.

“Poor, Jizz. I don’t know how any woman could figure out if she had actual feelings around this guy.

He must leave a wake of exploded ovaries wherever he goes. ”

“Exactly,” I say. “I told you—the dude could keep a severed head in his fridge and I’d totally reach behind it to get myself a Diet Coke while giggling at something he just said.”

Dax laughs and looks at his phone again. “Yeah, both of ’em are just stupid-good-looking. It’s like God fell asleep at the ‘good looking’ switch and didn’t move on to the next guy on the conveyor belt like he was supposed to.”

“And I just spent a week with him in freaking Las Vegas of all places—and all expenses paid, too. No wonder I can’t distinguish fantasy from reality. The whole thing was like a fairytale.”

“Snow White and the Seven Sybians.”

“How the hell do you even know what a Sybian is, by the way?”

He scoffs. “Dude, I’m twenty and I’m a guy,” he says, as if this answers my question.

I shrug.

“Every twenty-something-year-old male in America knows what a Sybian is—it’s a porn staple. Howard Stern even has one in his studio for female guests to ride. It’s, like, Porn 101.”

“Really? I had no idea. I’d never even heard of one ’til last week.”

“Well, are you a twenty-something-year-old male?”

“Not the last time I checked.”

“And do you watch a shit-ton of porn?”

“Never. ”

“Well, there you go. Now you know why you discovered the Sybian for the first time while watching porn with Sir J.W. Faraday.”