The Lying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #5)(57)

Me: MEAN?! How am I MEAN?

Abe: Not letting me come?

Abe: Cum, I mean.

Me: No need to be grammatically correct; I knew what you meant.

Me: And I’m sorry about making you wait, but I feel that since it had been so long since I had an orgasm, I deserved it. LOL I know that sounds so awful.

Abe: It’s been a long time for me, too.

Me: And JB has no idea?

Abe: Nope.

Me: Well…there’s going to be a point where he finds out. What then?

Abe: No idea. I’ll figure something out.

Me: Can you do it soon? If I have to spend the rest of my life climbing in and out of your bedroom window, I’m out. Sorry. It’s fun the first few times but the novelty will wear off, trust me.

Abe: I know—I’ll tell him.

Me: Should we do it together?

Abe: No. I was thinking I should wait until he starts seeing someone? Maybe then he won’t care.

Me: I don’t see why he cares NOW. He does not like me.

Abe: It’s a guy thing. He’d get jealous. Territorial. Like he peed on you already.

Me: That’s so stupid.

Abe: **shrugs**

Me: What are you up to this weekend?

Abe: I have a meet tomorrow.

Me: Where?

Abe: Here.

Abe: Hello?

Abe: Are you there?

Me: I’m here. I’m waiting for you to invite me.

Abe: Really? You’d want to come?

Me: What kind of a question is that?

Abe: Wow. Okay, this is awesome. It’s on Saturday.

Me: When does it start?

Abe: Eleven.

Me: I will see you there.

Abe: There are going to be tons of people because we’re wrestling Penn State. It’s a big deal.

Me: Are you telling me to get there early, or are you telling me you’re not going to see me?

Abe: Both.

Abe: But I’ll find you.

Abe: There’s a student section, but sit on the north side when you come in, with the parents. It’ll be easier to spot you.

Me: Uh…which side is the north side? Help a girl out with directions.

Abe: When you come in the main doors, hang a right, wrap all the way around, and go in through the north entrance. There’s a big sign above those doors.

Me: Gotcha. Will your parents be there?

Abe: No, you’re off the hook.

Me: Thank God—we’ve only been on one date.

Abe: I’d still introduce you if they were coming.

Me: As what?

Abe: As my girlfriend?

Me: **blushes**

Abe: Cool?

Me: Yes.





Abe



I was right when I told Skylar the stadium would be packed. Penn State always draws a massive crowd every year, but this is insane. It’s loud and chaotic as fans find their seats, the student section at capacity and the parent section filling up fast.

I stand in my warm-ups, eyes scanning that part of the auditorium for Skylar’s familiar brown hair and cute little ass.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me, dipshit. Do we need another pep talk? Is this about that girl again?” Zeke Daniels gets in my face, all up in my personal space, lips drawn tight. “We went over this—did you not follow directions?”

“Yeah, I followed directions.” I don’t elaborate, bending to re-tie my shoe so I’m not forced to stare back at him.

He taps his sneaker. “And?”

“And it worked out, just like Violet said.”

“So I was right.”

Jesus. “Violet was.”

“But also me.”

“Whatever.” I huff. “Fine, yes, you were right.”

“And?”

“And…what?”

“Why are you staring off into the goddamn crowd?”

I’m silent, working on the laces of my other shoe.

“Ohhh, I get it,” Daniels sing-songs. “She’s coming today, isn’t she?” I don’t reply, so he keeps talking. “Are you ready to throw up? Is it making you nervous?”

“Would you shut up?”

“I can’t. I’m basically your matchmaker now.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am. Without me, she wouldn’t have gone out with you again.”

That’s probably true, but he’s annoying and I’ll never admit it to him. I just want him to walk away and leave me in peace so I can warm up and watch for Skylar.

“Does dickweed know yet?”

“Who?”

“Jack,” Zeke grits out impatiently. “JB, whatever the fuck you guys call him. Bartlett. Does he know you’re boning his online girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Well now you have another host of problems, don’t ya?” He looks smug and arrogant and oddly pleased at this new development in the saga. “You need my help.”

It’s not a question, but he’s looking way too hopeful for my taste.

“No!” I shake my head vigorously, the entire match I have ahead of me forgotten by the pair of us. “No. Fuck no. No way.”

Zeke examines his fingernails. “False. I think you do need my help.”