Page 4 of Revelation (The Josh & Kat Trilogy #2)

JOSH

“ K at, come on!” I shout at her back, but she keeps marching down the hallway toward the penthouse’s private elevator, her arms swinging wildly. Déjà fucking vu. How many times am I gonna have to chase this goddamned terrorist down a fucking hallway? “Oh, come on, Kat. It wasn’t that bad.”

But she just keeps on marching. She pounds on the call button for the private elevator and crosses her arms, her back to me.

“You can’t possibly be this upset. What the hell?”

She whirls around and I’m shocked to see hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

Panic floods me. My application made her cry ?

Shit. I’ve obviously grossly miscalculated the situation.

I’m floored. “Kat,” I blurt, my chest tightening.

“I know everything I wrote in that application came off as douche-y and angry and fucked-up, but the truth is I was just heartbroken when I wrote all that shit.” Oh God, the words are tumbling out of my mouth.

“I’d just gotten out of a three-year relationship that didn’t end well,” I ramble, “and I won’t go into detail about everything that happened, but trust me, I had some shit to work out.

” I take a deep breath. “I was devastated, to be perfectly honest—I felt like there was something deeply wrong with me, and...” My heart is racing.

I swallow hard . “For reasons I don’t wanna go into, there was no way for me to do any of that stuff I wrote about with my girlfriend.

And that was okay, of course , because I never would have pushed her to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with— never —but when we broke up—well, actually, when she cheated on me instead of doing me the courtesy of actually breaking up with me—I figured, ‘Well, fuck it. YOLO. Life throws you lemons, make lemonade.’ So I joined The Club and rode a month’s worth of Mickey Mouse roller coasters so I could pull my shit together and move on.

And I don’t regret any of it because it actually worked—I totally moved on and now I’m perfectly fine.

” Shit. I’m rambling. I’m incoherent. I’m out of breath. Fuck. I force myself to stop talking.

Kat’s tears have dried up. She’s stone-faced and looking at me like I’ve got fingers growing out of my head.

“To be perfectly honest,” I continue, even though I know I should shut the fuck up, “I didn’t expect you to be so upset by what I wrote.

I admit I didn’t wanna give you my application, but it wasn’t because I was ashamed of what I asked for , it was because I didn’t wanna have to explain all this shit about Emma to you.

I’m not ashamed about The Club, Kat. I was single .

It was one month of my life. No one was hurt—far from it.

” I shift my weight. Shit, I think I’m digging myself an even deeper hole.

“Frankly,” I continue, deciding the best defense is a good offense, “I’m shocked you’re so upset.

Now that I’ve gotten to know you—or at least I thought I’d gotten to know you—I actually thought you’d be pretty understanding about everything I wrote—or, at least, about most of it.

” My voice cracks, despite my best efforts to sound calm and collected.

I rub my forehead. “I honestly thought you’d maybe even get off on some of it. ”

Her eyes are wide.

The bell dings on the private elevator behind Kat’s back. The doors open and then close—but, thankfully, Kat doesn’t move from her spot in the hallway.

What the fuck happened to the woman who wrote me that awesome ‘application’ to the ‘Josh Faraday Club’?

The woman who felt crushed when some asshole called her a slut and said she wasn’t ‘marriage material’?

Where’s the girl who admitted she has a shitload of crazy-elaborate sexual fantasies, for fuck’s sake?

I thought my perverted shit would be right up her alley, I really did.

And where the fuck is the incredible girl who rode a Sybian ’til she squirted and literally passed out?

Because I can’t imagine that girl reacting to my application with tears .

I run my hand through my hair. Shit. I feel like I’m reliving that last, horrible, blindsiding conversation with Emma all over again.

“Just please tell me why you’re crying,” I say, trying to keep my voice from sounding panicked. “I truly thought you’d understand about my application.”

“Josh,” Kat begins, but then she pauses.

My stomach twists with anticipation. Here it comes. I brace myself.

“I haven’t read your application,” she says softly. “You’ve misunderstood me.”

I close my eyes. Oh, how I wish I could stuff every word I just said back into my stupid goddamned mouth. I open my eyes. Shit.

“I started reading it, yes,” she continues.

“But then I called you when I got to the part about your three photos, and then I saw your ‘Sick Fuck’ folder and—oh, yeah, bee tee dubs, I permanently deleted that folder, sorry, I can be kind of impulsive sometimes.” She takes a deep breath.

“And then I went into your email account to send myself that naked photo of you with the gigantic boner—oh, and I also sent myself your application, too, by the way—sorry if that pisses you off, but, whatever, I am what I am—and, anyway, while I was in your email account, you got an incoming email.” Her lip curls with unbridled disgust. “And that’s what I’m crying about, Josh: the freaking email . ”

I can barely breathe. “What email?”

Her eyes water and she wipes them. “An email from Jen—your blast from the past.”

The hair on my neck stands on end.

“And let me just say this,” Kat says, her voice edged with barely contained rage. “If a woman is totally into you and you keep stringing her along, even though you’re not into her, then at some point you’re not a playboy , you’re just a flat-out prick .”

“ What ?”

“Unless, of course, you are into her and you’ve been peddling me a line of total bullshit this whole time—in which case, you’re not just a prick , you’re also a flat-out liar. ”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Kat?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“What did Jen say in her email?” I pull my phone out from my pocket and frantically scroll through my inbox.

And there it is—an email from Jen. I quickly read it, doing my best to see Jen’s message through Kat’s (batshit-crazy) eyes.

“Oh, Jesus,” I stammer. “No, no, no, Jen completely misunderstood me,” I blurt.

“I called to tell her I’m not interested in her—I swear to God—that’s what I told her. ”

“Well, Jen sure seems to think you called to ‘suggest’ something along the lines of you ‘motorboating’ her ‘pretty titties’— again . ” Her nostrils flare. Her face is bright red. She looks like a fucking fire-breathing dragon right now.

Shit. I look at Jen’s email again, my heart racing. “Kat, no. I didn’t suggest a fucking thing. I told Jen I wasn’t interested in her. I said I’m not in the market for a relationship.”

“Maybe you think that’s what you said to her, but clearly you didn’t. Because she clearly thinks there’s still a chance for something with you , Josh, and when it comes to you, she’ll obviously take any little crumb she can get, no matter how small and pitiful.”

“Well, shit. Hang on. Lemme read it again.”

“It makes me wonder if you’re ever completely honest when it comes to women. Do you ever just tell it like it is? Or do you always spin things to avoid hurt feelings—or maybe to keep your motorboating-options open?”

“Hang the fuck on, Kat. Jesus fucking Christ, you demon-woman, lemme fucking look at it.”

Kat presses her lips together and crosses her arms over her chest, her eyes blazing. “I don’t mind a manwhore if he’s honest about it—I really don’t—I mean, as long as he’s not running around collecting baby-mommas or STD’s— but I absolutely cannot stomach a goddamned liar. ”

“Fuck, Kat. Would you shut the fuck up for a minute? Jesus, you’re a fucking lunatic.” I look down at my phone and read again while Kat silently fumes. “Okay, clearly there’s been a huge misunderstanding,” I say when I’m done reading.

“Don’t forget to take a peek at the photos she sent you, too,” Kat says. “They’re super-duper awesome.”

I’d be a fool to open those photos with Kat standing right here, I know—but I do it, anyway. Why? Because, apparently, I’m every bit the suicide-bomber she is.

I open the first photo. It’s Jen and her famous mom, their cheeks pressed together.

“Yeah, so what?” I say. “Who cares if Jen’s mom is—”

“Open the second photo, Josh.”

I roll my eyes and open the second photo.

Oh. Wow. Hello, Jen’s beautiful tits. Yeah, that woman’s got some gorgeous tits, I must say.

But so what? I look up at Kat, ready to tell her she needs to take a chill-pill, and she’s absolutely seething with jealousy.

If she were a cartoon character, her skin would be green and steam would be shooting out her ears.

I stifle a grin, remembering Kat’s sexy little speech about how she never, ever gets jealous. The girl is all talk. I open my mouth to speak, but before I can say a goddamned word, Kat launches into me again.

“Do you always just tell women what they want to hear, Josh? That’s what I wanna know. Which leads me to the million-dollar question: Have you just been telling me what I wanna hear?”

My urge to smile vanishes. I throw up my hands, suddenly enraged. “Gimme a break, Kat. I’ve been one hundred percent honest with you and you know it.”

“I’m not so sure. You keep telling me I’m ‘the most beautiful woman you’ve ever been with’ and then I see you’ve been with a freaking Victoria’s Secret ‘Angel.’”

“So?” I ask.

“So, then I know for a fact you’re just blowing smoke up my butt.”