Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Joey crosses his arms and leans against the locker beside mine. A tuft of hair peeks out from under his arm, and I imagine his armpit troll suffocating. “It looks like a hell of a lot more than rehab going on. Does he know we used to date? I get it, Stevie, you need a rebound, but this really isn’t a good way to get back at me. Who’s going to get hurt in the end?”
It frustrates the hell out of me that he automatically assumes I’m hooking up with Bishop as a means to get over his idiotic ass. “What are you trying to do here, Joey? Give me relationship advice?”
“I don’t want you to do something you end up regretting.”
I slam my locker shut, wishing his fingers would get caught in it. I remind myself that I’m at work and that his goal is to rile me up and get a reaction. There is no damn way I’m going to give him the satisfaction. “I’ve already done something I regret. I dated you for a year. I think that’s going to stay at the top of my list for a while.”
Joey steps to the right when I do, blocking my way out. I want to punch him in the groin. He puts his hands up in mock surrender, or like he’s trying to corral me. “Look, I know you can hold a grudge like nobody’s business, Stevie, but do you know his reputation? Have you seen the kind of women he dates?”
“I don’t hold grudges.”
“You’re still mad at me for making one little mistake.”
“Boning someone who wasn’t me on my birthday is not a little mistake.”
He ignores that and shoves his phone in my face. Apparently he’s been busy stalking Bishop on social media. The hashtag #BishopWinslowSighting is typed into the search bar. “Look at this.”
“Why are you checking out Bishop in his underwear?”
“I’m not checking him out!” Joey looks over his shoulder to make sure we’re still alone. Unfortunately we are. “There are tons of these pictures, and lots of them are recent. Like within the last couple of months there are at least half a dozen. Do you really want to get involved with a guy like this?”
To a normal person, what Joey is showing me would imply that Bishop is a ladies’ man. But I happen to be privy to information regarding the women who are in and out of Bishop’s apartment, and I know they’re his brother’s friends. I even recognize one of the pics as Nolan’s most recent sleepover friend from last week. All the photos have been taken in Bishop’s apartment, and half of them are blurry, as if they were snapped on the sly. In some Bishop doesn’t seem to realize he’s being caught on camera, although in a few he’s covertly flipping the bird by scratching his chin or his temple with his middle finger.
I can easily explain this, but it’s almost better that Joey thinks he’s some womanizing douchebag. There’s even gratification in his believing it’s true. “It’s really none of your business, is it?”
“Fine. I’ll drop it.”
“Look at you, finally getting it after all this time.” Once again I try to step around him, but he blocks my way.
“Hold on. We still need to get together to talk about the decorations for the fundraising event. Why don’t you come to my place tonight?”
Seriously. There is no way he can be this clueless. “I’m busy.”
“You can get your suitcase. I’ll even drive you back to your place after. We have to get this done. They’re expecting us to know what we’re doing and submit a budget proposal by the end of the week.”
I sigh, annoyed and defeated. Once this stupid project is over, I’m definitely telling him to fuck himself. “Fine. I’ll come over, but only because I want my damn suitcase back and so we can get this planning bullshit out of the way. I have a client in fifteen. I need to go.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you in the lobby at five.” His grin is so smug I want to punch it off his face.
“I have clients until six. I’ll meet you at your place.”
“It’s okay. I can wait.”
“Awesome.” I leave him in the staff lounge. And grumble my irritation that I’m still stuck dealing with him.
Bishop messages me early in the afternoon to verify that he’s coming to my place around seven. I let him know that I might be late because I have to take care of a couple of things. I’m nervous about seeing him after last night and what almost sort of happened. Less than a minute later I get another message from him with a bunch of annoyed-looking emojis, as if I’m doing him some kind of disservice by not being available whenever he wants me.