Ladies Man (Manwhore #4)(42)

Instead I stand up and shove him. Hard. He doesn’t budge.

He slowly comes to his feet and watches me with a puzzled frown, and when I’m tired of lifting my arms and pushing the unmovable mass that is Tahoe, I sigh. Too weak, I let him carry me inside and tuck me into bed.





HUNG OVER


I wake up certain that I dreamed the night before, uncertain of what really happened and what didn’t. Whether Tahoe kissed my cheek or my chin or my nose before he finally went to his villa. And whether it was, in fact, sex noises I heard coming through the thin walls. Or if my mind is confusing the noises for the sounds of Trent stumbling back from the club about the same time the sun rose.

The hangover beats heavy in my brain as I shove all my things into my suitcase and hurry to make it to the airport. Trent needed to work, so last night was our last night hanging out with everybody. Our flight leaves early today. Everyone is still snoozing by the time Trent and I call a cab to take us to the airport.

We fly back to Chicago with the kind of silence that comes after a very intense weekend, and although he declares this weekend was his best trip ever, I can’t summon the enthusiasm to say the same.

“Did you change something?” Trent asks me after hours of silence and the plane begins to descend.

“Hmm?” I ask as I stare out the window, eager for a glimpse of Chicago below.

“Did you do something to your face?”

I lift my head and blink, then touch my fingers to my face. “I’m hung over. I didn’t have time to…I’m just wearing less makeup.” I stare at him thoughtfully. “You don’t like it?”

He shrugs. “You look different.”

“Different good or different bad?” I’m frowning now.

“Just different.”

I turn back to the window, fishing my sunglasses out of my bag and slipping them on to keep the glare of the sun out of my eyes.

Although being hung over isn’t the best time to make decisions, I know that the man I want to be with wouldn’t have asked another guy to take me back home—drunk—because he wanted to stay and have some more fun on his own. I know that the guy I want will like my hair flat and/or curly and my face with any color I choose to put on it. I know that Trent genuinely likes me but I also know that the guy I want is not flying back in this airplane with me.

Tahoe and I would never work, but that doesn’t mean that Trent deserves a lukewarm relationship like this either.

I also…want more.

So when we get to my apartment, I tell Trent the truth.

That I am utterly and completely confused.

That I want us to work, but that I need some time to think.

We have a big but short Talk—and we decide to take a break for a month or two, to see if we’re really what each other wants.

“Take all the time you need, Gina,” he says confidently, squeezing my hand as he stands at my apartment door. “But I will still call. I’m wooing you so there are no more doubts in your mind.”





MAY


Aside from packing boxes nonstop when I return from spring break, I continue working overtime. I’ll be moving into another apartment for a year, but I’ve still got my eye on buying one for myself. So I spend all my time either working or looking for apartments and also trying to forget all the memories of Tahoe that keep coming back to me from spring break.

Trent has continued calling, and sometimes I agree to see him—on friendly terms and with definitely no hand holding, no kissing, and no sex.

I think he understands that I need to think things through and he’s mostly giving me space, which I appreciate.

One Thursday during our usual cocktail night, I tell Rachel and Wynn in confidence that Trent and I are taking a break and are thinking things through.

“Good for you, Gina,” Rachel says.

I’m actually surprised by how unsurprised they both are.

“We don’t want to see you get hurt again and you need to be sure you’re with THE guy,” Wynn insists.

“Thanks.” I sip my drink, suddenly wondering if, like them, there is even “THE” guy for me out there. “Just please don’t say anything yet, we may actually end up working things out.”



*



Wynn, Emmett and I are clubbing one night and I’m trying to get my mind off work when I spot Tahoe in the club and a prick shoots right through the center of my chest. I haven’t seen him for a while. He hasn’t texted me to invite me to another practice game, and although I know lacrosse is already in season right now, I’ve wondered if there’s another reason he hasn’t invited me. Maybe he simply doesn’t want me to go and watch him anymore. Not after spring break.

Whatever the reason, I’m breathless when I see him winding through the crowd toward me as my group and I try to locate our reserved table.

“Hey, Regina.”

Tahoe’s lips curl tenderly as he looks at me.

“Hey, T-Rex.”

“I could’ve used some of my lucky charm the other day at practice.” His voice lowers as he steps over, a hand in his pocket, the other one covered by a black jacket draped around his forearm. He’s ludicrously sexy. His smile as deadly as the tip of a knife poking into my breast.

“Send me an invite and I’ll do my best.”