Part 2 (2/2)

Wait a second.

She looked very familiar.

Was that...

Was that Lexa Novak?

Christ, she's perfect.

Her eyes widened and she froze halfway down the hallway. This was not the same woman I'd seen with her hair pinned back and her man repellerware on. This woman was stunning. I didn't know where to look first; those eyes were striking with her dark hair framing her face, her smooth skin and long legs. A pair of little boy shorts outlining curves I could sink my teeth into. And her t.i.ts-I could go on for days about her t.i.ts.

Clearing her throat, cheeks flushed bright red that spread down the center of her body; she mumbled something that I couldn't quite make out. She looked like she was about to run.

But d.a.m.n, I wanted her to stay.

”Sit,” I said, and offered her something from my stockpile of junk food.

”What are you doing out here at three in the morning?” she asked. There was a soft throatiness to her voice and I wondered how I'd never noticed it before. How in h.e.l.l had I never noticed her before?

I shoved a handful of chips into my mouth as an answer. She smiled. Beautiful. What the h.e.l.l was she thinking walking around dressed like that? d.a.m.n, I could just imagine what Evan would have done if he'd seen her like that.

”You were in a relations.h.i.+p with Sophia, weren't you?” she asked slowly.

I choked on the chips. I mean, truly choked, almost needing the Heimlich maneuver kind of choking on chips. Eyes watering, heart pounding, throat burning-the works.

”Oh, G.o.d,” she dropped her face in her hands and peeked at me through her fingers. I was choking and dying; she was blus.h.i.+ng five shades of peek-a-boo. ”I'm right, aren't I? You and Sophia? I'm sorry, Mr. Holt, I have no filter. I vomit words...it's like a disease.”

I gulped at my water, trying to quench the burn in my throat, and then looked at her. She shook her head and bit down on her lip. ”c.r.a.p, I'm so sorry,” she whispered.

I chuckled. ”It's quite all right, Ms. Novak. That's more of an apology than I got from Sophia.” I threw her over a bag of M&Ms and shrugged. ”n.o.body knew. Well, Evan did, but that's because he's a stupid nosy p.r.i.c.k and figured it out. It's just been a few months.”

She nodded her head thoughtfully and I stared at her-and I mean really stared at her. No makeup, not even some of that lip c.r.a.p or that black junk that makes eyelashes long and gunky. There was a small cl.u.s.ter of freckles across her cheeks that strangely matched the natural hue of her lips. And she wasn't skinny, although she was by no means fat; she was just curvy and soft all over, like a cla.s.sic Marilyn Monroe. Not a single st.i.tch of the plastic surgery I was accustomed to with Sophia with her fake t.i.ts that don't bounce and her quarterly lipo and cellulite removal.

She grabbed one of the cans of soda, popped it open with a loud hiss, and held it up. A sad smile flitted across her lips and she clinked her drink to mine. ”Well, we sure know how to pick 'em, don't we? I should've known after the first night I stayed over at his house it was all bad.”

I couldn't help but smile and ask, ”How so?”

”His mommy woke me up when she went to get his laundry out of his room.”

It felt like it was the first time I laughed in days. She even laughed, but it never reached her eyes. G.o.d, it must be awful for her to be going through this right before her wedding.

”How are you holding up?” I asked, watching her separate the colored chocolates in her hand then pop one color in her mouth at a time. First, all the browns, then yellows, followed by reds, oranges, greens, and the blues were saved for last.

”Good, question. I'll let you know when I find an answer, because I have no idea how I'm not sobbing uncontrollably since it happened,” she said, her voice soft and low. Her eyes gazed at her fingers, folding and bending what was left of the snack bag.

”What happens now? What are you going to do?”

She absently sc.r.a.ped her teeth against her lips and looked down the hall. ”I want to cancel everything. Just go somewhere and hide for a little while so I don't have to hear everybody talk about it. I'm probably going to lose all my deposits and everything.” She turned her head toward me and sighed. ”I can't even begin to think about what our families will have to say about everything.”

A strange heaviness ached in my chest for her.

”How about you?” she asked, sipping her soda.

”I'm p.i.s.sed, but not as upset as I should be. I guess that shows you how I really felt about her. Kind of eye opening. I'm more sorry that you got hurt than anything. I'm sorry you had to go through the pain for all her bulls.h.i.+t.”

She pulled her knees to just under her chin and wrapped her arms around them. ”He blamed it all on me.”

”She blamed me too.”

A faint smile tugged at her lips. ”I'm sorry, but I don't get how she'd go from you to him.”

”Yeah, well, at first she pretended she was doing it for the magazine. She said Trager was the mailroom guy and knew how to get in contact with that infamous blogger Alex Kavon, which was a lie and I told her that. Finally, she just let me have it. She said I was emotionally unavailable and selfish. And to kick me while I was down, she said I wasn't good in bed. Which is another lie, by the way.”

Thankfully, she laughed, because it sure wasn't like me to tell a beautiful woman that another woman had any complaints about me. It was all lies anyway. Sophia was trying to get me jealous. She wanted me to put up some sort of a fight for her, ask her to be my girlfriend exclusively, like we were all still in middle school. ”Wasn't good in bed? Well what the h.e.l.l was she doing with Trager then?” Her laughter softened.

”He must've been doing something.”

”I wonder what because I haven't had an o.r.g.a.s.m, unless it was a do-it-yourself kind, in over six months. What? Now all of the sudden he magically learns how to use his d.i.c.k correctly?”

”Wow. Seriously?”

”Sorry,” she said, putting her hands over her face, and then bashfully glancing up at me. ”Definitely no brain-to-mouth filter. Runs in the family.”

”So he was a three pump wonder and she the Queen of the Nags,” I laughed, trying to make her feel better. It was refres.h.i.+ng talking to a woman who was down to earth and said things she thought, no games.

”Well he's an a.s.s and she's his trash.” The corner of her mouth rose into a grin and I couldn't understand why, but I wanted her to keep the smile-maybe because it was so beautiful.

”Stupid s.l.u.t.”

”a.s.shead.”

”Monkey humper.”

”I'm surprised he didn't fall in and have to be surgically removed.” I let out a dark laugh.

”He probably just stuck his p.e.n.i.s in her mouth to make her shut up,” she giggled, eyes gleaming.

”Their private parts are more like public parts.” There is something to be said about getting back in touch with your adolescent mentality; it's liberating.

Somewhere down the hall, a door slammed shut, pulling us back to reality. Big blue eyes darted nervously around the hallway, and she quickly climbed to her feet. ”Well, Mr. Holt. I think I should get back to my room before I embarra.s.s myself any further in my lack of ensemble. Thank you,” she smiled, cheeks rendering her shame a deep red, ”for sharing the snacks.”

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