My Favorite Half-Night Stand(30)

Basically, I need Reid out of my space. Not because I want him out of my space, exactly, but because I’m feeling the same way I felt the night of his tenure party—like it might not be such a terrible idea to invite Reid into my bed, and I’m thinking these things while he’s reading a message from another woman.

Who is actually me . . .

Hello, twenty-first-century predicaments.

But maybe when he reads Cat’s last message, he’ll figure it out and we’ll laugh and I can stop thinking about this entirely. That would fix all of this.

Right?

I hold my breath as I watch him scan it, and then his eyes light up and he turns the screen to face me as he bursts out laughing. “Catherine—Cat—just quoted Girls Trip. She’s your twin, Mills!”

I let out a jarring guffaw that makes him do a bemused double take, but then I can’t think of a single thing to say to look less like a shrill maniac.

When he turns his phone back to read it again, I ask lamely, “Sooo, nothing unusual?”

“Unusual? No. She’s super funny.” Now I’m torn between insult that he didn’t realize that I’m super funny, and swooning that he’s talking about me and doesn’t even know it. Holy shit, this is both incredibly sweet and incredibly fucking stupid.

I open my mouth to tell him It’s me, you idiot, but then he looks up at me with this goofy smile, and my heart does a weird swan dive in my chest. He seems genuinely excited.

“What should I say?” he asks.

I shrug because I’m not supposed to know what Cat said, so he reads the message out loud. I don’t really have to listen because I reread it about seven times before sending—not to mention I have a terrible poker face—so I busy myself instead with putting pizza on plates.

“Not bad, right?” he asks once he’s done.

“You’re right, she sounds amazing.”

He stands, finally, taking a plate of pizza. I watch him lift a slice, fold it in half, and take about a foot of it into his mouth in one bite. He wasn’t kidding about being hungry. After he swallows, he says, “I’m really glad we did this. The whole dating thing. Feels promising.”

I nod as I chew, silently encouraging him to go on.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said that night”—he takes a meaningful pause before adding—“on the way to your place . . .”

Oh. Another nod.

“I wonder if maybe you were right.”

I pick up my pizza and bring it to my mouth. “I mean, you’ll have to narrow it down a little. I’m right all the time.”

“About the five of us enabling each other. I don’t know, maybe we were getting too comfortable. Maybe we did need to shake things up.”

I take a bite, and nod again.

“Work has always been my priority, and for the first time in my life I’m seeing that there should be more. Dating someone was an obstacle I had to work around—it meant having to explain my hours and my time away, and just never seemed worth it.”

“And now?”

He picks at his pizza and shrugs. “I think for the first time in my life, I feel like something is missing. I want both.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. You might just be growing up, Peter Pan.”

Reid smiles at me from across the counter. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. I know you haven’t had the same . . . experience so far with the app. But—”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“I’m serious.”

I straighten and wipe my hands on a napkin. “So am I. I thought about getting a cat today. That’s a solid step into the commitment zone.”

Reid reaches for another slice and I pick up my wineglass, taking a long gulp. We eat in silence, and only the occasional sounds of Reid’s chewing and my wine chugging fill the silence. Finally, Reid places each of his elbows on the counter. “I hate when you’re upset with me. Even if you won’t admit it. And especially if we’re going to be trapped together all weekend at my parents’ place. You’re still good with that?”

A weekend with Reid? SOS.

“One, I’m not upset with you. Two, you know I wouldn’t miss a weekend with your mom’s cooking.”

He tugs on a piece of hair that’s escaped my bun. “Or someone’s birthday cake.”

“It’s your mom’s birthday?”

Reid rolls his eyes before leaning in to press a kiss to my forehead. “All right. I’m out.” He lifts a third slice of pizza to indicate he’ll take it with him, and turns for the door, stopping just short. “I know you’re tired of talking about this, but did you ever change your profile?”

Panic stabs me in the chest. “My profile?”

He gives me another few seconds before saying slowly, “On IRL.”

Ah. The account he knows about, full of boob requests and popped collars.

“Oh! Millie. Right. No.” Each of these words is quacked out abruptly.

“You should,” he says. “It sucks.”

“Thanks.”

“Thanks for listening to me. You’re so fucking great.” He turns for the door again. “I envy the man who gets you.”