The Hookup Plan, page 4
“I don’t know what kind of kinky stuff you’re into, but my ankle isn’t the body part you should be concerned about, Dr. Kelley.”
Her brow arched with mild irritation. “Are we doing this or what, Drew?”
Drew couldn’t help but think of those long-ago nights he’d spent in bed, praying his mother didn’t come into his room and discover him damn near bruising himself as he self-pleasured his way to sleep with thoughts of London swimming in his head. After all this time he finally had the chance to experience the real thing, and she thought there was a question as to whether he would be interested?
He thought about Monday and what her reaction would be when she discovered that she would, in fact, have to encounter him in the hallways at work. At least on a temporary basis. Members of his team would be at the hospital most of the time, but he would be required to be there for the occasional meeting over these next three to four weeks.
“Uh, London, before we do anything, maybe we should talk about the work I’ll be doing while in Austin. You should know that…”
Drew’s voice trailed off. He stared at London in awe as she reached behind her head and unhooked the clasp at the base of her neck. She shrugged her shoulders out of the jumpsuit and shimmied her hips, letting the sparkly material glide down her legs and pool onto the floor at her feet. She stood before him in a sheer bra that did nothing to hide her deep brown areolae. The matching panties didn’t hide much either.
His pulse pounded as he drank in the sight of her.
“You were saying?” she asked.
He would figure out how to deal with the fallout on Monday.
He clutched her hip and pulled her to him. “You’re damn right we’re doing this.”
4
The effort it took to lift a single eyelid gave London insight into how the rest of her day was likely to progress. On the bright side, there was a delicious ache to muscles she had not used in far too long. She wanted to savor that feeling before the reality of what she’d done sank in.
Too late. Way too late. Her mind began to bombard her with screenshots from last night.
Drew Sullivan. She’d given her goodies to Drew fucking Sullivan.
Her archnemesis. Her biggest rival. The boy she’d wished death upon after every single test and quiz she’d taken her senior year of high school. Who would have thought that bastard could give her enough orgasms in a single night to make up for her yearlong dry spell?
“Shit,” she cursed.
“Good morning to you too.”
She cocked one eye open and looked to where he stood, just a few feet from the bed. He wore a pair of slate-gray pajama pants and nothing else. His abs were so chiseled they looked unreal.
But she now knew that every inch of him was real. Decadently real. Amazingly, toe-curlingly real.
London pulled the sheet up over her head. “I can’t believe I slept with you last night.”
“Technically, you didn’t fall asleep until well into the morning.”
“Ugh, please shut up, Drew.” She lowered the sheet, tucking it under her chin, and raised up on her elbows. “Is that coffee I smell?”
“I had some brought up. Do you want breakfast?”
“No,” she said. “What I want is hot coffee in a to-go cup. And then I want you to turn around while I get dressed and out of this room and, hopefully, to not see you again for another fifteen years.”
“You sure about that? You went without sex for only one year and look at how thirsty you were last night. I think we should make this a monthly thing. I’d say weekly, but I know how busy you are, saving lives and all that.”
And this was why she couldn’t allow one night of his acting like a decent human being to erase who he’d been fifteen years ago. This was the real Drew Sullivan.
“I really can’t stand you,” London said. “I don’t care that you have a magic dick, I still cannot stand you.”
His sexy grin made her growl.
She tore the covers away, not caring that he wore pajama bottoms while she walked around his room naked, in search of her underwear.
“Your clothes are in there,” he said.
She looked to the adjoining room and spotted her jumpsuit and underwear folded neatly over the back of the love seat. Her heels were lined up next to it.
“You touched my panties?” she asked with an incredulous shriek.
His right brow arched. “You do remember where my tongue was last night, don’t you?”
That was a reminder she did not need.
The worst part of all this was that she had not been drunk. She’d gotten into his bed—well, first on his conference table, and then in his shower, and then straddling the fucker on the sofa—with hardly a buzz going. She had willingly ridden Drew Sullivan’s face like he was a champion quarter horse. And if she didn’t get the hell out of here right now, she would likely beg him to let her do it again.
He followed her into the living area and walked over to the conference table, where a silver coffee carafe and dozens of documents were arranged in neat stacks. A set of reading glasses sat atop one set of documents.
“You don’t have to leave, you know,” Drew said. “Unless you have a surgery scheduled at the hospital?”
“I don’t schedule surgeries on Sundays,” London said as she stepped into her sheer panties.
“Then why are you rushing out?” He walked over to her, stopping a couple of feet away. It was still too close for her peace of mind, so she took several steps back.
“We can grab breakfast.” He paused long enough to look at his watch. “Brunch.”
London gaped at him. “I’m not having brunch with you, Drew. We don’t like each other, remember? What happened here last night was a onetime thing. I appreciate it, because I really, really needed it—”
“Yeah, you did,” he interrupted.
“I can do without your commentary.” She put on her bra, then unfolded her jumpsuit and stepped into it. London inwardly cringed when she realized she’d have to ask for his help in zipping it up. She turned her back to him. “Can you zip this? Please,” she tacked on.
He took so long to move that she thought he wasn’t going to help her, but then she felt his hands grasp the zipper pull at the base of her spine. He guided it up her back, his fingers brushing the spot between her shoulder blades before lingering too long at her nape.
“You don’t have to leave,” he repeated. His breath was warm against her skin, the gentle wisp of it causing goose bumps to pebble up and down her arms.
He was so, so wrong. She absolutely had to leave. And right now.
She slipped into her shoes, grabbed her keys and her phone, and headed for the door. She turned the door handle, but then paused. When she looked back at Drew, he was still in that same spot near the sofa. Those ridiculously chiseled abs taunted her with promises of an afternoon spent in bed running her hands and tongue along them.
“Umm…thanks for the orgasms and stuff,” she said, then wrenched the door open and speed walked to the elevator.
If this were one of those rom-coms she watched on Netflix, he would come racing down the hallway in his bare chest and bare feet and beg for her to return to his room. Cheesy music would play as the numbers on the elevator steadily climbed, reaching a crescendo as it dinged its arrival and waited for her to make her choice.
But Drew didn’t come charging out of his luxury suite. He was probably pouring himself another cup of coffee as he reclaimed his seat at the conference table and got back to making his millions, his night with his old high school nemesis already forgotten.
The elevator arrived and London stepped inside the car, forcing herself not to glance down the corridor as she did. She stood against the back wall and closed her eyes. She tried to remember the breathing techniques Taylor had taught during the yoga class she’d taken some weeks ago, but she had fallen asleep in the middle of it because she was so exhausted these days.
Fuck this. She was not losing her breath over Drew freaking Sullivan. She’d gotten exactly what she’d wanted from him—hours of amazing sex—and now she could put him out of her mind and go back to business as usual.
“Stop lying to yourself,” London muttered.
She would eventually fall back into her normal flow, but she wasn’t going to forget her time spent in Drew’s bed anytime soon.
She made her way to the parking garage and her Mini Cooper. Once behind the wheel, she slipped the parking ticket from the cup holder where she’d stashed it after getting it validated by the banquet manager yesterday, then backed out of the parking spot and tore out of the garage.
London set her phone in the cradle attached to the dashboard and group FaceTimed Samiah and Taylor. They came on at the same time.
“Meet me at the Kerbey Lane Cafe near UT’s Campus. This is an emergency.”
She had an overwhelming urge to drown her shame in pancakes.
She clicked out of the call. She wasn’t one to FaceTime and drive, having witnessed the results of distracted driving in surgery more than she wanted to think about. But these were desperate times. She needed her friends.
She also needed to remind herself not to curse her friends out the moment she saw them. This was their fault. They were the ones who suggested this random hookup in the first place.
“Samiah and Taylor didn’t tell you to screw Drew Sullivan,” she said to herself. That was all on her. Well, and on Drew. Who in the hell told him to walk around their reunion looking like he belonged on the cover of that magazine Tabitha had shoved in his face?
London reminded herself that this wasn’t the end of the world.
So she’d slept with Drew. Big deal. Now that they were past the awkward morning-after phase, she didn’t have to worry about him. He would soon be back in New York gazing out at Central Park while he shaved in the morning, and she would be at the hospital saving lives.
They were two consenting adults who’d spent the night showing each other a good time. What was wrong with that?
“This is fine,” London said. “Everything is fine.”
Fifteen minutes later, she pulled up to the restaurant and was relieved when she didn’t see a crowd of people waiting to get in. All the college kids were probably still sleeping off their partying from the night before. The local chain was an Austin institution, and right now there was nothing she wanted to do more than stuff her face with their blueberry buttermilk pancakes.
She was shown to a booth that overlooked one of UT’s many residence halls, but just as she slipped onto the sky-blue vinyl, she realized that her bladder was seconds from bursting. She’d been so eager to get away from Drew, using the bathroom had been the furthest thing from her mind.
When London rounded the corner on the way back from the restroom, she spotted Taylor Powell’s maroon-colored box braids piled on top of her head. Both she and Samiah were sitting in the booth.
“There she is,” she heard Taylor say. Her forehead creased in a frown as London approached. “Uh, don’t you think you’re a bit overdressed for pancakes?”
London glanced down at her red sequined jumpsuit. There were still a few spots dotted with chocolate. She looked like a hot-ass mess.
Samiah slid from the booth and enveloped London in a hug.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “Are you hurt?”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that.” London disengaged from her hold and gestured for Samiah to take her seat. Then she slid into the booth next to her. She looked across the table at Taylor and frowned. “How did you make it from Georgetown so fast? Were you speeding again?”
“Jamar and I spent the night at my apartment here in town,” Taylor answered. Her friend had fallen hard for her new man after first working as his personal fitness coach.
“What’s the big emergency?” Samiah asked, getting right down to business, as usual.
Samiah had also taken a swan dive into love’s deep end. She and her boyfriend, Daniel, had just celebrated their four-month anniversary. London had rolled her eyes at the pictures Samiah had posted on her Instagram of her apartment crowded with candles and roses, yet she could also admit that she had been the teeniest bit jealous. She’d never been one for over-the-top romantic gestures, but that shit had melted her heart.
“Food first,” London said as the server arrived at their table with water glasses and a coffee carafe. They put in their breakfast orders, and London turned her attention to her coffee, ripping the top off five sugar packets. She pointed to Taylor as she added them to her mug.
“I don’t need a lecture about refined sugar this morning,” she warned.
“Fine,” Taylor said. “I’ll close my eyes so that I don’t have to see you fill your body with the devil’s candy.”
“I’ll tell you when you can open them again.”
“Can you tell us why we’re here?” Samiah asked, impatience making her voice shrill.
London took a sip of her coffee. It was too sweet for her liking, but she couldn’t say anything because she didn’t want to hear Taylor’s mouth. She set the cup down and folded her hands on the table.
“I did something I’m ashamed of,” she said. She looked first to Samiah, then to Taylor, giving them both the stink eye. “I took your advice.”
Taylor’s mouth screwed up in a frown. “Our advice?” Then her eyes went wide and she squealed. “You got some dick last night!”
The two older women sitting at the table next to theirs released twin scandalized gasps.
“Dammit, Taylor,” London hissed. “Why don’t you hire a skywriter to plaster that shit all across Austin?”
“But this is a good thing,” Taylor said.
“Yes.” Samiah nodded. “We all agreed that some stress-relieving sex should be at the top of your priority list. But, based on your reaction this morning, maybe we should have clarified that you needed good sex.”
“That’s the problem,” London said. “It was so fucking good.” She glanced over at their neighbors, who thankfully hadn’t heard her.
“I’m not following,” Taylor said.
“The sex isn’t the issue. It’s who I had sex with that has me second-guessing my life choices this morning.”
“Not Craig!” both Samiah and Taylor screeched.
“No!” London said. “That loser hasn’t tried to contact me in months. He’s probably somewhere scamming a senior citizen out of her social security money.” She cradled her face in her hands. “It was one of my former classmates. I hooked up with him after the reunion last night.”
“Ah, okay. That explains why you’re still wearing that jumpsuit. So, what’s the problem?” Samiah asked. “He isn’t married, is he?”
“No, he’s single,” London said. “He’s single. He’s gorgeous. And he’s worth millions.”
“Holy shit! I repeat. I am not following,” Taylor said. “What’s the issue?”
“The issue is that Drew Sullivan has been the bane of my existence since the moment he first walked through the doors of Barbara Jordan High School. And, yes, I know it’s been fifteen years, but of all the men who were there last night, I cannot believe I ended up in Drew’s bed. And I cannot believe how freaking good it was.” She covered her face again.
“I swear it was the best sex I’ve had that didn’t require batteries. No, scratch that. The best ever,” London said. “Do you understand how frustrating it is to discover that someone who has been at the top of your shit list for years gives a tongue job like he’s trying to win a medal?”
“The Cunnilingus Olympics. Jamar would definitely receive a medal,” Taylor said.
The server chose that moment to return to their table. Given the utter shock on her face, it was safe to assume she had overheard Taylor’s previous remark. She hung around a tad longer than necessary, adjusting the water glasses, salt and pepper shakers, and ketchup bottle.
“Thank you,” London said in her most you can leave now voice. Once they were alone again, she said, “You guys just don’t get it. I’ve been in competition with Drew Sullivan since the last semester of our junior year of high school. After what happened last night, he’s now winning!”
“Because you’re such a prize?” Samiah asked.
“You’re fucking right I’m a prize,” London said as she attacked her pancakes with a knife and fork. “And this gives him the upper hand.”
“Does this Drew know that you still think you two are competitors, or is this just a London thing?” Taylor asked.
“It’s probably just a me thing,” she admitted. “Okay, it’s definitely just a me thing.”
London doubted Drew had ever been aware of just how intense their rivalry had been back then. Because, honestly, it wasn’t about Drew. From that very first calculus quiz, when he’d scored a perfect A plus to her inferior A minus, he’d become an unwitting player in the dysfunctional crusade she’d been engaged in to gain her dad’s attention. Drew Sullivan was nothing more than a symbol, a goalpost by which everything she’d strived to accomplish in high school had been measured.
But it had been easier to put all the blame on Drew than to face her fucked-up relationship with her dad. It was still easier to do that.
“It doesn’t matter,” London said as she stuffed a forkful of syrup-drenched pancakes in her mouth and nearly had another orgasm. These things were amazing. “It doesn’t change the fact that giving up my goodies to Drew last night gives him a leg up in this…this…”
“This imaginary contest you’ve conjured,” Samiah finished for her.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Taylor said. “This guy is rich, gorgeous, and can sling tongue like nobody’s business. If you asked me, you’re the one who’s winning here.”
“She’s got a point,” Samiah agreed.
She could go along with their reasoning if she were in a different headspace, but all London could think about at the moment was Drew’s smug face.
Except he hadn’t looked all that smug. He had not made any snide comments or said anything that would make her think he would run and tell everyone that they’d hooked up.
Her brow arched with mild irritation. “Are we doing this or what, Drew?”
Drew couldn’t help but think of those long-ago nights he’d spent in bed, praying his mother didn’t come into his room and discover him damn near bruising himself as he self-pleasured his way to sleep with thoughts of London swimming in his head. After all this time he finally had the chance to experience the real thing, and she thought there was a question as to whether he would be interested?
He thought about Monday and what her reaction would be when she discovered that she would, in fact, have to encounter him in the hallways at work. At least on a temporary basis. Members of his team would be at the hospital most of the time, but he would be required to be there for the occasional meeting over these next three to four weeks.
“Uh, London, before we do anything, maybe we should talk about the work I’ll be doing while in Austin. You should know that…”
Drew’s voice trailed off. He stared at London in awe as she reached behind her head and unhooked the clasp at the base of her neck. She shrugged her shoulders out of the jumpsuit and shimmied her hips, letting the sparkly material glide down her legs and pool onto the floor at her feet. She stood before him in a sheer bra that did nothing to hide her deep brown areolae. The matching panties didn’t hide much either.
His pulse pounded as he drank in the sight of her.
“You were saying?” she asked.
He would figure out how to deal with the fallout on Monday.
He clutched her hip and pulled her to him. “You’re damn right we’re doing this.”
4
The effort it took to lift a single eyelid gave London insight into how the rest of her day was likely to progress. On the bright side, there was a delicious ache to muscles she had not used in far too long. She wanted to savor that feeling before the reality of what she’d done sank in.
Too late. Way too late. Her mind began to bombard her with screenshots from last night.
Drew Sullivan. She’d given her goodies to Drew fucking Sullivan.
Her archnemesis. Her biggest rival. The boy she’d wished death upon after every single test and quiz she’d taken her senior year of high school. Who would have thought that bastard could give her enough orgasms in a single night to make up for her yearlong dry spell?
“Shit,” she cursed.
“Good morning to you too.”
She cocked one eye open and looked to where he stood, just a few feet from the bed. He wore a pair of slate-gray pajama pants and nothing else. His abs were so chiseled they looked unreal.
But she now knew that every inch of him was real. Decadently real. Amazingly, toe-curlingly real.
London pulled the sheet up over her head. “I can’t believe I slept with you last night.”
“Technically, you didn’t fall asleep until well into the morning.”
“Ugh, please shut up, Drew.” She lowered the sheet, tucking it under her chin, and raised up on her elbows. “Is that coffee I smell?”
“I had some brought up. Do you want breakfast?”
“No,” she said. “What I want is hot coffee in a to-go cup. And then I want you to turn around while I get dressed and out of this room and, hopefully, to not see you again for another fifteen years.”
“You sure about that? You went without sex for only one year and look at how thirsty you were last night. I think we should make this a monthly thing. I’d say weekly, but I know how busy you are, saving lives and all that.”
And this was why she couldn’t allow one night of his acting like a decent human being to erase who he’d been fifteen years ago. This was the real Drew Sullivan.
“I really can’t stand you,” London said. “I don’t care that you have a magic dick, I still cannot stand you.”
His sexy grin made her growl.
She tore the covers away, not caring that he wore pajama bottoms while she walked around his room naked, in search of her underwear.
“Your clothes are in there,” he said.
She looked to the adjoining room and spotted her jumpsuit and underwear folded neatly over the back of the love seat. Her heels were lined up next to it.
“You touched my panties?” she asked with an incredulous shriek.
His right brow arched. “You do remember where my tongue was last night, don’t you?”
That was a reminder she did not need.
The worst part of all this was that she had not been drunk. She’d gotten into his bed—well, first on his conference table, and then in his shower, and then straddling the fucker on the sofa—with hardly a buzz going. She had willingly ridden Drew Sullivan’s face like he was a champion quarter horse. And if she didn’t get the hell out of here right now, she would likely beg him to let her do it again.
He followed her into the living area and walked over to the conference table, where a silver coffee carafe and dozens of documents were arranged in neat stacks. A set of reading glasses sat atop one set of documents.
“You don’t have to leave, you know,” Drew said. “Unless you have a surgery scheduled at the hospital?”
“I don’t schedule surgeries on Sundays,” London said as she stepped into her sheer panties.
“Then why are you rushing out?” He walked over to her, stopping a couple of feet away. It was still too close for her peace of mind, so she took several steps back.
“We can grab breakfast.” He paused long enough to look at his watch. “Brunch.”
London gaped at him. “I’m not having brunch with you, Drew. We don’t like each other, remember? What happened here last night was a onetime thing. I appreciate it, because I really, really needed it—”
“Yeah, you did,” he interrupted.
“I can do without your commentary.” She put on her bra, then unfolded her jumpsuit and stepped into it. London inwardly cringed when she realized she’d have to ask for his help in zipping it up. She turned her back to him. “Can you zip this? Please,” she tacked on.
He took so long to move that she thought he wasn’t going to help her, but then she felt his hands grasp the zipper pull at the base of her spine. He guided it up her back, his fingers brushing the spot between her shoulder blades before lingering too long at her nape.
“You don’t have to leave,” he repeated. His breath was warm against her skin, the gentle wisp of it causing goose bumps to pebble up and down her arms.
He was so, so wrong. She absolutely had to leave. And right now.
She slipped into her shoes, grabbed her keys and her phone, and headed for the door. She turned the door handle, but then paused. When she looked back at Drew, he was still in that same spot near the sofa. Those ridiculously chiseled abs taunted her with promises of an afternoon spent in bed running her hands and tongue along them.
“Umm…thanks for the orgasms and stuff,” she said, then wrenched the door open and speed walked to the elevator.
If this were one of those rom-coms she watched on Netflix, he would come racing down the hallway in his bare chest and bare feet and beg for her to return to his room. Cheesy music would play as the numbers on the elevator steadily climbed, reaching a crescendo as it dinged its arrival and waited for her to make her choice.
But Drew didn’t come charging out of his luxury suite. He was probably pouring himself another cup of coffee as he reclaimed his seat at the conference table and got back to making his millions, his night with his old high school nemesis already forgotten.
The elevator arrived and London stepped inside the car, forcing herself not to glance down the corridor as she did. She stood against the back wall and closed her eyes. She tried to remember the breathing techniques Taylor had taught during the yoga class she’d taken some weeks ago, but she had fallen asleep in the middle of it because she was so exhausted these days.
Fuck this. She was not losing her breath over Drew freaking Sullivan. She’d gotten exactly what she’d wanted from him—hours of amazing sex—and now she could put him out of her mind and go back to business as usual.
“Stop lying to yourself,” London muttered.
She would eventually fall back into her normal flow, but she wasn’t going to forget her time spent in Drew’s bed anytime soon.
She made her way to the parking garage and her Mini Cooper. Once behind the wheel, she slipped the parking ticket from the cup holder where she’d stashed it after getting it validated by the banquet manager yesterday, then backed out of the parking spot and tore out of the garage.
London set her phone in the cradle attached to the dashboard and group FaceTimed Samiah and Taylor. They came on at the same time.
“Meet me at the Kerbey Lane Cafe near UT’s Campus. This is an emergency.”
She had an overwhelming urge to drown her shame in pancakes.
She clicked out of the call. She wasn’t one to FaceTime and drive, having witnessed the results of distracted driving in surgery more than she wanted to think about. But these were desperate times. She needed her friends.
She also needed to remind herself not to curse her friends out the moment she saw them. This was their fault. They were the ones who suggested this random hookup in the first place.
“Samiah and Taylor didn’t tell you to screw Drew Sullivan,” she said to herself. That was all on her. Well, and on Drew. Who in the hell told him to walk around their reunion looking like he belonged on the cover of that magazine Tabitha had shoved in his face?
London reminded herself that this wasn’t the end of the world.
So she’d slept with Drew. Big deal. Now that they were past the awkward morning-after phase, she didn’t have to worry about him. He would soon be back in New York gazing out at Central Park while he shaved in the morning, and she would be at the hospital saving lives.
They were two consenting adults who’d spent the night showing each other a good time. What was wrong with that?
“This is fine,” London said. “Everything is fine.”
Fifteen minutes later, she pulled up to the restaurant and was relieved when she didn’t see a crowd of people waiting to get in. All the college kids were probably still sleeping off their partying from the night before. The local chain was an Austin institution, and right now there was nothing she wanted to do more than stuff her face with their blueberry buttermilk pancakes.
She was shown to a booth that overlooked one of UT’s many residence halls, but just as she slipped onto the sky-blue vinyl, she realized that her bladder was seconds from bursting. She’d been so eager to get away from Drew, using the bathroom had been the furthest thing from her mind.
When London rounded the corner on the way back from the restroom, she spotted Taylor Powell’s maroon-colored box braids piled on top of her head. Both she and Samiah were sitting in the booth.
“There she is,” she heard Taylor say. Her forehead creased in a frown as London approached. “Uh, don’t you think you’re a bit overdressed for pancakes?”
London glanced down at her red sequined jumpsuit. There were still a few spots dotted with chocolate. She looked like a hot-ass mess.
Samiah slid from the booth and enveloped London in a hug.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “Are you hurt?”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that.” London disengaged from her hold and gestured for Samiah to take her seat. Then she slid into the booth next to her. She looked across the table at Taylor and frowned. “How did you make it from Georgetown so fast? Were you speeding again?”
“Jamar and I spent the night at my apartment here in town,” Taylor answered. Her friend had fallen hard for her new man after first working as his personal fitness coach.
“What’s the big emergency?” Samiah asked, getting right down to business, as usual.
Samiah had also taken a swan dive into love’s deep end. She and her boyfriend, Daniel, had just celebrated their four-month anniversary. London had rolled her eyes at the pictures Samiah had posted on her Instagram of her apartment crowded with candles and roses, yet she could also admit that she had been the teeniest bit jealous. She’d never been one for over-the-top romantic gestures, but that shit had melted her heart.
“Food first,” London said as the server arrived at their table with water glasses and a coffee carafe. They put in their breakfast orders, and London turned her attention to her coffee, ripping the top off five sugar packets. She pointed to Taylor as she added them to her mug.
“I don’t need a lecture about refined sugar this morning,” she warned.
“Fine,” Taylor said. “I’ll close my eyes so that I don’t have to see you fill your body with the devil’s candy.”
“I’ll tell you when you can open them again.”
“Can you tell us why we’re here?” Samiah asked, impatience making her voice shrill.
London took a sip of her coffee. It was too sweet for her liking, but she couldn’t say anything because she didn’t want to hear Taylor’s mouth. She set the cup down and folded her hands on the table.
“I did something I’m ashamed of,” she said. She looked first to Samiah, then to Taylor, giving them both the stink eye. “I took your advice.”
Taylor’s mouth screwed up in a frown. “Our advice?” Then her eyes went wide and she squealed. “You got some dick last night!”
The two older women sitting at the table next to theirs released twin scandalized gasps.
“Dammit, Taylor,” London hissed. “Why don’t you hire a skywriter to plaster that shit all across Austin?”
“But this is a good thing,” Taylor said.
“Yes.” Samiah nodded. “We all agreed that some stress-relieving sex should be at the top of your priority list. But, based on your reaction this morning, maybe we should have clarified that you needed good sex.”
“That’s the problem,” London said. “It was so fucking good.” She glanced over at their neighbors, who thankfully hadn’t heard her.
“I’m not following,” Taylor said.
“The sex isn’t the issue. It’s who I had sex with that has me second-guessing my life choices this morning.”
“Not Craig!” both Samiah and Taylor screeched.
“No!” London said. “That loser hasn’t tried to contact me in months. He’s probably somewhere scamming a senior citizen out of her social security money.” She cradled her face in her hands. “It was one of my former classmates. I hooked up with him after the reunion last night.”
“Ah, okay. That explains why you’re still wearing that jumpsuit. So, what’s the problem?” Samiah asked. “He isn’t married, is he?”
“No, he’s single,” London said. “He’s single. He’s gorgeous. And he’s worth millions.”
“Holy shit! I repeat. I am not following,” Taylor said. “What’s the issue?”
“The issue is that Drew Sullivan has been the bane of my existence since the moment he first walked through the doors of Barbara Jordan High School. And, yes, I know it’s been fifteen years, but of all the men who were there last night, I cannot believe I ended up in Drew’s bed. And I cannot believe how freaking good it was.” She covered her face again.
“I swear it was the best sex I’ve had that didn’t require batteries. No, scratch that. The best ever,” London said. “Do you understand how frustrating it is to discover that someone who has been at the top of your shit list for years gives a tongue job like he’s trying to win a medal?”
“The Cunnilingus Olympics. Jamar would definitely receive a medal,” Taylor said.
The server chose that moment to return to their table. Given the utter shock on her face, it was safe to assume she had overheard Taylor’s previous remark. She hung around a tad longer than necessary, adjusting the water glasses, salt and pepper shakers, and ketchup bottle.
“Thank you,” London said in her most you can leave now voice. Once they were alone again, she said, “You guys just don’t get it. I’ve been in competition with Drew Sullivan since the last semester of our junior year of high school. After what happened last night, he’s now winning!”
“Because you’re such a prize?” Samiah asked.
“You’re fucking right I’m a prize,” London said as she attacked her pancakes with a knife and fork. “And this gives him the upper hand.”
“Does this Drew know that you still think you two are competitors, or is this just a London thing?” Taylor asked.
“It’s probably just a me thing,” she admitted. “Okay, it’s definitely just a me thing.”
London doubted Drew had ever been aware of just how intense their rivalry had been back then. Because, honestly, it wasn’t about Drew. From that very first calculus quiz, when he’d scored a perfect A plus to her inferior A minus, he’d become an unwitting player in the dysfunctional crusade she’d been engaged in to gain her dad’s attention. Drew Sullivan was nothing more than a symbol, a goalpost by which everything she’d strived to accomplish in high school had been measured.
But it had been easier to put all the blame on Drew than to face her fucked-up relationship with her dad. It was still easier to do that.
“It doesn’t matter,” London said as she stuffed a forkful of syrup-drenched pancakes in her mouth and nearly had another orgasm. These things were amazing. “It doesn’t change the fact that giving up my goodies to Drew last night gives him a leg up in this…this…”
“This imaginary contest you’ve conjured,” Samiah finished for her.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Taylor said. “This guy is rich, gorgeous, and can sling tongue like nobody’s business. If you asked me, you’re the one who’s winning here.”
“She’s got a point,” Samiah agreed.
She could go along with their reasoning if she were in a different headspace, but all London could think about at the moment was Drew’s smug face.
Except he hadn’t looked all that smug. He had not made any snide comments or said anything that would make her think he would run and tell everyone that they’d hooked up.
