Kiss and Don't Tell(45)

“I think we’d all appreciate that,” Taters says.

“Shut the fuck up,” Hornsby yells. “Jesus, Taters, you’re not kicking Lawes out of the house.”

“Nah, it’s cool. I can look for a place.” I shovel some more eggs into my mouth.

“Don’t, Lawes,” Posey says. “Because that would leave us with Taters, and you’re the best at calming him down.”

“Clearly not.” I finish my eggs, eating faster than I ever have before, and stand from the table. Looking Taters, who has guilt written all over him, in the eyes, I say, “I’ll be out of here by tomorrow.”

I take my plate to Stephan, and just as I turn to walk away, Taters calls out, “Fuck, I didn’t mean it. Don’t leave.”

That’s what I thought, but I’ll make him sweat it out. Instead of acknowledging him, I walk down the hallway and knock on Winnie’s door.

“One second,” she calls out. The door opens and I hear someone ask, “Is that him?”

I peek through the door to see Winnie is on FaceTime with someone.

“Ah, shit, sorry. I’m out here when you’re done.”

“No, come back,” the male voice on the phone says. “I want to meet him.”

In an annoyed voice, Winnie says, “Pacey, come here.”

Must be a prying friend or sibling . . . or father, maybe?

Either way, I step into her room. But instead of focusing on the phone, I take in the sight of Winnie.

She’s wearing a cute red sundress that clings to her chest but flows out around her waist. Her hair is pulled back into two thick French braids, and she’s wearing some makeup. She looks so fucking good.

I walk up to her and say, “This dress looks really good on you.”

“Oh God, did he compliment you? Does he always do that? Turn the phone, I want to see him.”

Instead of complying, Winnie puts the phone against her chest and says, “Thank you, but I need to apologize in advance for whatever comes out of Max’s mouth.”

I chuckle. “Bring it.”

With a sigh, she lifts the phone up and points it in my direction. A man, probably in his mid-twenties, stares at me from the screen with wide eyes. He runs a hand over his perfectly coifed pompadour before resting his hand against his clean-shaven cheek. He clears his throat. “Jesus, you’re hot.”

I pull on the back of my neck. “Thank you.” I wave. “I’m Pacey.”

“I know who you are. I’m Max, one of Winnie’s best friends. Katherine is currently in the bathroom, therefore, unable to be hear us at the moment. She’s suffering from high anxiety and stress-belly from Winnie’s choices.”

“She’s dramatic,” Winnie adds.

Getting close to the screen, Max says, “I need you to know you’re currently my second favorite Agitator.”

“Second?” I ask. “Who’s your first? If you say Eli Hornsby, we’re going to have problems.”

“Pretty face, but not for me. Ian Rivers.” Max nods. “Ian is a goddamn snack.”

I move my hand over my jaw. “Ian is a fucking hell of a guy. That’s a good choice. If I’m going to fall second, I’m good with falling second to him.”

“Is he as cool in person like I think he is?”

“Probably cooler. He’s legit.”

Max grins. “Can I have his number?”

“Max,” Winnie chastises, pulling the phone away. “Don’t give Max his number.”

“Don’t tell him what to do,” Max shouts. “If he thinks I need Ian’s number, let him give it to me.”

Chuckling, I stick my hands in my pockets and say, “How about this, Max. Get your girl to open up more to me and I’ll see what I can do about Ian.”

“Jesus fuck, Winnie, open up to the man, if not for me, then for yourself. You need this.” Shouting to me, Max says, “She’s been through a lot, Pacey. This girl needs a man like you.”

She’s been through a lot?

Fuck, it bothers me that I didn’t know that.

“And I think that’s enough, Max. Say goodbye.” Winnie holds the phone up to me and I wave. He goes to say something, but she hangs up before he can get it out. “God, I’m so sorry about that.”

“Why? Max seems fun.”

“He can be really obnoxious and overstep boundaries.” She tucks her phone away in her purse, which she loops over her body so the strap nestles between her breasts. “I hope he didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“Not in the slightest. He made me curious, though.”

“I’m sure.” She sighs and then looks me over. “Did you dress up for me?”

“Nope,” I say while I walk over to the door. “Dressed for myself. I think it’s good to flirt with yourself on occasion.”

She pauses and gives me a twisted look. “Are you serious about that?”

“Does it look as though I’m a guy who would flirt with myself?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, at this point.”

“Come on.” I laugh. “I’m not that kind of guy.” I lead her down the hallway, away from the main living space.