One Moment Please (Wait With Me #3)(6)
Me: You are so metro.
Dean: Metro is the new macho. I like to coordinate, Lynsey. Just tell me what you’re wearing.
Me: I’m thinking my black skirt and that polka dot top.
Dean: The sheer one that makes you look like you’re wearing sprinkles on your tits?
Me: Yes.
Dean: Damn. You’re busting out the big guns tonight.
Me: I told you…I need to blow off some steam.
Dean: Noted…see you soon. xx
About an hour later, I’m taking one final look in the mirror, trying to decide if I’m ready. Dean was right when he said I’m going all out. Normally, I wouldn’t put so much thought into my outfit, but tonight is different. I want my outside to reflect what I feel inside. Accomplishment radiates through me now that my thesis is done, and I want to show that feeling off.
My black pencil skirt is high-waisted and stretchy and hugs my hips in a way that makes me feel like a Kardashian. I slipped a black silk camisole under my sheer long-sleeve colorful dot top and finished off the look with black wedge ankle boots. My long chestnut hair is curled in loose waves, and my brown eyes pop with the three coats of mascara I applied.
I slick a red matte stain across my lips and give myself a final once-over in the mirror.
Lookin’ good, girl.
I actually feel pretty…nay, beautiful. Like a woman on her way to getting her master’s and having a real, grown-up career. The world is mine, at last.
Tonight, I’m not the cute best friend who’s easily overlooked. After the way that jerk acted this afternoon, as if I was nothing more than a nuisance, I’m determined to dredge up some confidence.
I grab my single girl clutch that hasn’t seen the light of day in ages and make my way downstairs.
Dean’s eyes widen as he watches me descend the stairs, fumbling as he pockets his copy of my house key.
“Holy shit, Lyns. You look hot.” His voice is huskier than normal. A small thrill zips through me because one of my best friends is slightly flustered by my appearance.
“Thank you!” My heels clunk down the last few steps and over the pine flooring to the entryway table where I left my bigger bag I normally carry around. I eye him up and down, noting his dark brown hair is gelled back like a proper businessman. “You look pretty good yourself.”
Dean wears an artful hipster outfit, his shirt obviously tailored because it hugs his biceps and waist perfectly. Add that to his dark-framed eyeglasses, gray pencil tie, laced black boots, and cuffed jeans and nothing about Dean’s style is ever basic.
He props himself on the wall as I transfer my wallet from my day purse to my sparkly clutch. I look up to see Dean inspecting my entire body.
“Remind me why we ever stopped dating again,” he asks, his voice low and suggestive.
I exhale and shake my head with a girlish giggle. “Because you weren’t good enough for me.”
Dean flattens himself against the door and mimics the motion of a knife piercing his chest. “Don’t say that, Lynsey. I’m a changed man.”
I hit him with an unamused look. “You are a mountain manwhore who just two hours ago asked me to be your wingman.”
“That was before I knew how hot you’d look tonight.” His flirtatious smile would be butterfly-inducing if I still liked him in that way. “You know I’d come crawling back to you in a heartbeat—say the word.”
He reaches to pull me into his arms, but I laugh and shove him away. “Just this past summer, you professed your love for Kate. Now you want round two with me? I’m not a psychologist yet, but I know enough to inform you that you have boundary issues.”
“That’s such a lie!” he argues and then reaches into my bag and grabs a stick of gum.
I snatch my purse out of his hand. “See? Boundary issues! You can’t just be friends with a woman and not try sleeping with her. The fact that you and I never had sex is the only reason our friendship has remained intact.”
“It’s chewing gum, not your panties.” He pops the stick of gum into his mouth and chews obnoxiously with a grunt.
That grunt has my mind shifting from my short, basically nonexistent fling with Dean to Dr. Douchebag, who’s also a big fan of grunting. My blood boils all over again because all I can picture is that degrading face he made when he looked at me.
What. A. Dick.
And you know what? I bet if I looked like Kate, he’d have been more polite. She’s funny and comes off as one of the guys but looks like a damn movie star, so she’s impossible not to fall for. Hell, even Dean would’ve managed to defuse the situation. That manwhore has the ability to flirt with an asexual rock!
The asexual label was probably unnecessary for that analogy.
But me? What do I do? I stuff a fistful of pie in my face like a prize heifer. Maybe that’s why I’m pushing thirty and have only slept with a handful of guys.
The last one was Barry, the pharmacy tech, who looked like he’d been shot every time he climaxed.
I shudder.
No wonder I haven’t been laid in months. If my most recent experience is Barry, then the night is dark and full of terrors.
Turning on my heel, I paste on a determined smile. “Ready to go, wingman?”
He sighs heavily as he forlornly checks me out one more time. “I’m at your service.”