Good Time(33)

“Longer.”

“Thicker or thinner than a can of Coke?”

“Thinner! It felt like a can of Coke, but definitely thinner. Oh, my God, I can’t believe I just said that.” Lydia gasps and slaps a hand over her eyes. I laugh and pull out the badges I’ve made for her. I’ve got a blow job badge, a sex badge and a butt stuff badge. I place them on the table in a row between us lined up in a row.

“You made badges!” She beams, peering over my handiwork before sliding the sex badge off the table and running it between her fingers. “This is very nice work, Payton.” The girl really does love her badges. She fingers the other two with the tip of her finger before pushing them back in my direction. “I haven’t earned these yet,” she says and I know it kills her a little bit because she’s an overachiever.

“He didn’t want a blow job?” I’m appalled.

Except. Except Vince didn’t let me give him a blow job this weekend either. Good Lord, maybe blow jobs have gone out of style? Hahah. Honestly, I crack myself up.

“He said not till Wednesday,” Lydia replies like that’s a thing.

“Excuse me?” I spear a cucumber with my fork and drag it through the ranch dressing before popping it into my mouth.

“I don’t know.” Lydia shrugs. “That’s what he said.”

“Hmm,” I hum around the cucumber in my mouth. God, I really am funny. Also, I need to hum on Vince’s dick, pronto.

“So what did you do this weekend?” Lydia asks. “Besides make badges for me?”

“Oh, you know. The usual.” Married Vince, I want to say. I want to tell her everything and get her advice, but now isn’t really the time. Everything is so new for her with Rhys and I don’t want to make it all about me. Maybe I can just talk around it a little? I stab a green pepper with my fork while I contemplate how I can talk about this without really talking about this.

“Did you know, statistically speaking, arranged marriages have a much higher success rate than those of individuals who choose for themselves?” I chew on the green pepper as nonchalantly as possible. Green peppers taste like slivers of green ice and depression.

“I have heard that, yes,” Lydia replies with a small laugh. “Were you binge-watching Married at First Sight again?”

More like living it.

“Maybe,” I admit. “It could work though, don’t you think?”

“Well, I suppose there is some merit to it.”

“Right!”

“A team of psychologists could match suitable partners, I guess. They’d likely have a good handle on compatible personality traits, and they’re matching people who are actively seeking a life partner, so everyone’s goals are the same.”

“Just like fate!” I nod my head as I say it.

“No, I don’t think psychology and fate are anything alike.” Lydia is shaking her head in response to my vigorous head-nodding.

“Hmm.” Dammit.





Chapter Seventeen





I’ve just gotten home from work and changed into a tank top and pair of pajama pants Lydia made from an old sheet when there’s a knock on my door. I think we all know who that is.

“Thank God you’re here,” I announce as I swing open the door. “I’m glad you finally came over. It’s weird the way you’ve been avoiding me.” I give him a cheeky grin as I eye him from head to toe. Sweet baby Jesus, does he look good. He’s wearing a suit and tie and he still looks pressed even at the end of the day. Seeing him makes me flush all over with excitement and anticipation. Seeing him makes the swans in my stomach swim in rapid little circles. I don’t know why, but he just does it for me. Destiny has done me a real solid in tossing him in my path, that’s for sure.

He does that little headshake thing I’m already familiar with. Then he rolls his eyes at me for good measure.

“Cute,” he mutters as he strolls past me. “Real cute.”

He’s carrying a brown paper grocery bag. The kind you get at the expensive grocery store because hipsters love retro and the environment. Vince is not a hipster so I can only assume he shops there because the groceries are fancy as fuck.

“You keep going on and on about how much you like me, but then you disappear. It’s weird, right? You should really get your shit together before you give me a complex.” I shake my head as I close the door behind him.

“Uh-huh,” Vince mutters heading straight for my kitchen.

“Did you bring me groceries? Thank God, I’m starving. I had a salad for lunch, which sucked, by the way, and I ate the last of my Cheez-Its in the shower yesterday.”

Vince pauses, the bag hovering over my countertop. “What?” He squints at me like I’m talking nonsense. Then he does a slow perusal of what I’m wearing and scowls. “So you’re in your pajamas and you have no food in the house? What were you going to eat for dinner, Payton?”

“Um…” I wrinkle my nose, head tilted to the side. “I don’t think it should come as any great surprise to you that I don’t always think things though.”

“Right.” And with that he tosses the manila envelope he’d had tucked under his arm onto the countertop and begins unpacking the grocery bag. “You need to sign those, but first I’m making dinner and then we’ll talk.”