Hacking His Code (Beguiling a Billionaire Book 7), page 24
“Because she makes good life decisions!”
“Yes, because she has her shit together.” Weston rakes his long fingers through his shaggy, dark hair. “I’m willing to bet Arnold isn’t looking to settle down. Look at him.” He points to the television. “He’s twenty-three and obviously works out several times a week. The show is called Tempt Me, not Date Me, not Marry Me—Tempt Me. Bianca is both tempting and perfect for a week-long fling.”
“We are never watching this together again,” I insist, folding my arms over my chest.
“That’s fine by me,” he says smugly. “We can go back to that garage makeover show.”
I frown. “That was boring.”
Weston turns off the television. “Then we watch, nothing and just sit around, enjoying each other’s company.”
Feeling foolish, I give him my most pathetic puppy-dog eyes. “Sorry about my outburst.”
“It’s okay. To tell you the truth, this was way better than the whole Kate-Juliet argument we had when we binge-watched Lost.”
I chuckle. “Why would anyone want Kate over Juliet—she’s terrible!”
Weston rolls his eyes. “Want me to get you another beer?”
“Sure.”
As he goes to the kitchen, I’m left alone with my thoughts.
From the outside looking in, it may seems rather silly that I’m ranting about a reality show that certainly has no basis in reality.
But the thing is, this is very much my reality.
I’ve always been a too-smart-for-my-own-good go-getter. An overachiever to an obnoxious degree. Valedictorian. Bar exam acer.
Everything seems to come easy for me.
Except love.
“Here ya go.” Weston hands me a Bud Light Lime.
I take a sip, mulling over my many unfortunate relationships. If you could even call them that.
Things start off great. They’re impressed with my accomplishments and happy to take me on date number two. And three. Then, we make it into the bedroom…maybe two times.
I have to know what’s wrong with me. Why guys ditch me when everything seems to be going so smoothly. And who better to help than Wes, my bestie who’s been with me through thick and thin the last eight years.
“Wes?” I say anxiously, not sure if I really want to know the answer to what I’m about to ask.
His face shows concern. “What’s up?”
“I need to know what’s wrong with me.”
His brow draws together. “Wrong with you? You seem to be doing alright.”
I take a sip of my beer, then dig in deep.
“I’m twenty-five, and I’ve never been in a real, committed relationship. There was a guy in high school I ‘dated’ for two years, but we never did more than kiss. Every time I meet a man, things seem to be going good. We talk, and there are no awkward silences. We…make it into the bedroom…all the things men would expect.” I waggle my brow to get my point across. “But then…nothing. They just tell me they’re not looking for commitment, or they stop calling altogether.”
“Uh-huh—”
“Which is bullshit. A month after one guy broke up with me, he was claiming some woman on Facebook. I couldn’t help but think, why not me?”
Weston downcasts his eyes.
“Wes, do you know something?”
“It’s nothing—”
“Oh, it is most certainly something. Now you better tell me—”
“You’re reading too much into this.”
“Don’t act like I don’t know you. If you know something that could help me, just tell me. I would do the same for you.”
Wes swallows hard, and I know I’m in for a bumpy ride. I take another swig of beer and brace for impact.
“Remember a month ago when I got into that fight with Ashton…” Weston starts.
Ashton Penrose, the charming architect that shagged me three whole times before calling it quits.
“Yeah, you were at that new bar, and he was trying to hit on the girl you were with.”
He clears his throat and licks his lips as if he’s anxious.
Why would he be anxious?
“He wasn’t hitting on your girl, was he?”
“No…I was there with some friends, and I said hi. He said, “You’re friends with that smart, nerdy girl, aren’t you?” I had to agree with him, because it was true but what he said next was something I couldn’t tolerate.”
“What did he say?”
“Just that…you were very mechanical.”
I blink, trying to process what my best friend just said. “Mechanical?”
“He called you Rosie from the Jetsons, you know, the robot. She has those little metal hands shaped like this,” he makes his hand into a claw. “Then, he demonstrated a weirdly mechanical hand job.” Wes makes a mechanical jacking motion with his hand while simultaneously making a squeaky grinding sound to add to the effect.
“Stop!” I cover my eyes, too embarrassed to look on.
“I defended your honor! Damn near broke his jaw.”
I reach over and hold a finger up to his lips. “Not another word.”
My worst fears have been confirmed. I’m a bad lay. That may sound dramatic, but it’s a pretty valid fear. Men are known to fall for complete and utter train-wrecks that can’t get their shit together. Even looks can be overlooked. What’s ugly to some is extremely attractive to another. But bad in bed—that’s a hard flaw to overcome.
After the longest minute imaginable, Wes says, “Look, it’s not that big a deal. To some people, a warm body is a warm body.”
I stare in shock at him, mouth gaping in offense.
“Oh, shit. I guess maybe you didn’t want to hear that.”
He’s the last person I should be mad at because he’s the only guy with balls enough to tell me the truth.
I give him a meek smile. “Thanks, Wes, for shooting it to me straight.”
A friendship like ours isn’t the norm, but we didn’t exactly have a typical start to it.
During his years at a local community college, he needed a tutor, so he picked up a third job in order to afford one. He hired me, who was two years his junior but attending an Ivy League school.
He was the first person in his family to attend college, and due to having to work since the age of thirteen to help keep his family afloat, he wasn’t always able to give his schoolwork proper attention, and it showed in his grades.
As it turned out, he was plenty smart; he just never got any sleep and had a million stressors on his mind. When I found out he took on a third job in order to afford me, I made him quit on the spot. I sat next to him as he gave his two-week notice. Then, we made a plan on how best to get him through school while keeping his debt minimal.
After that, we became best friends. I went on to graduate law school, and he eventually went on to university, graduated with honors, and now works in contract management for some big-shot tech company. Both of us in prime positions for our ‘happily ever after.’
Wes looks guiltily down at his drink. “I wish I had handled the situation more delicately. With finesse. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“I don’t.” I chuckle. “This was fucking hilarious.” I make the Rosie hand job motion.
We break out into laughter, and I scoot over to him, resting my head on his shoulder.
“Wes…”
“Yeah?”
“When we first met, you said that you needed me. But more and more often, now, I’m the one that needs you.”
“It’s give and take with us.” Wes grabs the remote. “Oh! I remember hearing something about a chicken beauty pageant on YouTube.”
“This, I gotta see!”
Lark Anderson, Hacking His Code (Beguiling a Billionaire Book 7)
