didn’t care that Damien was my friend . When he looked at me, I wanted him to regret the decision he’d made when he labeled me just that.
I couldn’t help how I felt.
Last night, throughout the fondue date with Brian, I kept thinking about Damien: Damien’s ass, Damien’s hand on my hip, my impending Sunday lunch with Damien. It was pathetic. I would chuckle to myself every time Brian would dip something into the sauce because I could hear Damien joking about that being the only thing he’d be dipping into. I couldn’t shake my friend from my mind, and I didn’t really want to.
Donning a fitted Betsey Johnson mini-dress that had a faux leather top and flared purple bottom, I went to answer the door.
Damien’s eyes widened when he got a look at me. “I didn’t realize we were going clubbing on a Sunday afternoon.”
“I felt like dressing up. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No. You look nice,” he said as he brushed past me into the apartment.
“Thank you.”
Damien didn’t look so bad himself, wearing a brown leather jacket and distressed jeans that hugged his ass.
He looked down at my five-inch heels. “You sure you want to wait in a long-ass line in those shoes, though?”
“How long are we talking?”
“There’s a half-hour wait on average just to get in the door. That’s how good these burgers supposedly are. The long wait is part of the experience.”
“Jeez. Maybe I will change my shoes, then.”
After heading to my room to swap my heels for some black ballet flats, I returned to the living room.
“There’s my shortie,” he said.
“How come I don’t hear the dogs?”
“Jenna came back early from wherever she was, so I asked her if she’d take them. I dropped them off at her place after the morning walk. It works out better, since we could be gone for a while today. There’s some place else I want to go if we have time after lunch.”
“Where?”
“It’s a surprise.”
The thought of getting to spend the whole day with him filled me with excitement.
It was a sunny Sunday with virtually no traffic on the 101. Damien had the windows to his truck rolled down, and my hair was blowing all over the place.
He looked over at me and spoke loudly through the wind. “You want me to roll up the windows?”
“No. I love this,” I shouted.
“Me, too.”
“You love the breeze in your hair? You’re wearing a beanie.”
“No. I love your hair all crazy like that. I love that you don’t give a shit that it’s a wild mess. You don’t have a prissy bone in your body.”
Throughout the entire ride, I had the urge to reach over and put my hand on his knee, but of course, I restrained myself.
When we arrived at Bad Boy Burger, the line was out the door and around the corner.
“You weren’t kidding. This place is mobbed.”
“The burgers better be worth it.”
After forty minutes, we finally made it to the part of the line that was inside the restaurant. It was cafeteria style, so once the order was placed, you either found a seat inside, took it to go, or sat on one of the benches outside.
We were just about ten people from the cashier when I glanced out to the seating area. My throat felt like it was closing up, and I felt dizzy.
I blinked.
No.
I blinked again.
It couldn’t be.
He’s in New York .
No, he’s here.
Elec.
My ex was sitting with his mother and the woman he left me for—Greta.
He didn’t see me.
Oh my God.
I had to get out of here.
“Chelsea, what’s wrong? You’re turning white.”
I grabbed his arm for support. “It’s Elec.”
“What about him?”
“He’s here.”
“What?”
“Behind me and a little to the right.”
Damien’s head whipped toward Elec’s direction. “What the fuck is he doing here?”
“His mother lives here in Sunnyvale.” I blew out a nervous breath. “He must be visiting.”
“What are the fucking chances, seriously?”
“With my luck? Pretty good, apparently.”
He glared at them.
I couldn’t help how I felt.
Last night, throughout the fondue date with Brian, I kept thinking about Damien: Damien’s ass, Damien’s hand on my hip, my impending Sunday lunch with Damien. It was pathetic. I would chuckle to myself every time Brian would dip something into the sauce because I could hear Damien joking about that being the only thing he’d be dipping into. I couldn’t shake my friend from my mind, and I didn’t really want to.
Donning a fitted Betsey Johnson mini-dress that had a faux leather top and flared purple bottom, I went to answer the door.
Damien’s eyes widened when he got a look at me. “I didn’t realize we were going clubbing on a Sunday afternoon.”
“I felt like dressing up. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No. You look nice,” he said as he brushed past me into the apartment.
“Thank you.”
Damien didn’t look so bad himself, wearing a brown leather jacket and distressed jeans that hugged his ass.
He looked down at my five-inch heels. “You sure you want to wait in a long-ass line in those shoes, though?”
“How long are we talking?”
“There’s a half-hour wait on average just to get in the door. That’s how good these burgers supposedly are. The long wait is part of the experience.”
“Jeez. Maybe I will change my shoes, then.”
After heading to my room to swap my heels for some black ballet flats, I returned to the living room.
“There’s my shortie,” he said.
“How come I don’t hear the dogs?”
“Jenna came back early from wherever she was, so I asked her if she’d take them. I dropped them off at her place after the morning walk. It works out better, since we could be gone for a while today. There’s some place else I want to go if we have time after lunch.”
“Where?”
“It’s a surprise.”
The thought of getting to spend the whole day with him filled me with excitement.
It was a sunny Sunday with virtually no traffic on the 101. Damien had the windows to his truck rolled down, and my hair was blowing all over the place.
He looked over at me and spoke loudly through the wind. “You want me to roll up the windows?”
“No. I love this,” I shouted.
“Me, too.”
“You love the breeze in your hair? You’re wearing a beanie.”
“No. I love your hair all crazy like that. I love that you don’t give a shit that it’s a wild mess. You don’t have a prissy bone in your body.”
Throughout the entire ride, I had the urge to reach over and put my hand on his knee, but of course, I restrained myself.
When we arrived at Bad Boy Burger, the line was out the door and around the corner.
“You weren’t kidding. This place is mobbed.”
“The burgers better be worth it.”
After forty minutes, we finally made it to the part of the line that was inside the restaurant. It was cafeteria style, so once the order was placed, you either found a seat inside, took it to go, or sat on one of the benches outside.
We were just about ten people from the cashier when I glanced out to the seating area. My throat felt like it was closing up, and I felt dizzy.
I blinked.
No.
I blinked again.
It couldn’t be.
He’s in New York .
No, he’s here.
Elec.
My ex was sitting with his mother and the woman he left me for—Greta.
He didn’t see me.
Oh my God.
I had to get out of here.
“Chelsea, what’s wrong? You’re turning white.”
I grabbed his arm for support. “It’s Elec.”
“What about him?”
“He’s here.”
“What?”
“Behind me and a little to the right.”
Damien’s head whipped toward Elec’s direction. “What the fuck is he doing here?”
“His mother lives here in Sunnyvale.” I blew out a nervous breath. “He must be visiting.”
“What are the fucking chances, seriously?”
“With my luck? Pretty good, apparently.”
He glared at them.
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