I probably know more about Ava than her own mother—and that’s not even an exaggeration.
“Tell me you’re sexting in the middle of your workout, and I swear to God, it’ll make my fluffing day.”
I look up to find Thatcher Kelly, clad in jogging pants and a T-shirt that reads Property of Cassie, standing directly in front of me with a big-ass grin on his face.
Because we go to the same gym, every great once in a while, we run into each other mid-workout. Well, it started out as his exclusive, impossible-to-get-into Manhattan gym, but he did what Thatch does best and sweet-talked the owner into letting me become a member. Despite the fact that my bank account doesn’t end in seven zeros.
“Very funny.” I bark out a laugh. “And, no. I wasn’t sexting.”
“Oh, so just sending dick pics, then?”
“Texting, dude. I was just texting with Ava.”
“Ava?” He quirks a brow. “That’s the best friend, right? The one who’s trolling TapNext?”
“No longer trolling TapNext, but yes, my best friend Ava,” I correct, and he smiles his biggest shit-eating grin.
“No longer trolling TapNext, eh?” He winks. “I guess that means you figured it out, and you’re banging.”
My eyebrows shoot together. “We’re not having sex. And figured what out?”
“Oh. Whoops. What’s going on, then?”
I shake my head. “It’s nothing.”
“Luke, my man, I’m not walking away until you fill up my gossip cup.”
“You’re impossible, you know that?” I groan and run a hand through my slightly sweaty hair, but when Thatch makes no move to respond or leave, I add, “You really want to know?”
“Are you kidding me?” he exclaims. “I love tea. I’ll guzzle that shit any chance I can get.”
God only knows why, but I tell him the whole sordid tale.
The fact that Ava realized online dating is horrible.
That the only reason she’s been online dating is to find a date to bring home to Vermont for the holidays, her high school reunion, and her sister’s wedding.
And that, because I’m an awesome best friend, I offered to play the role of fake boyfriend so she didn’t have to keep going on dates with idiots.
The instant I finish, Thatch starts cracking up like I’m Kevin Hart, and I’ve just delivered my best fucking stand-up routine.
“What?” I question in confusion. “Why is that so funny?”
“It’s nothing,” he responds, still laughing. “But now, I hope you realize, I will require constant updates on how this goes.”
“Why in the hell would you want to know how this goes?”
He grins like the Cheshire cat. “Because this is the best fluffing thing I’ve heard since you told me you and Ava are just friends.”
I groan. “We are. Best of.”
“Uh-huh.” That grin turns devilish. “You know…” He pauses and taps his chin dramatically. “I’m pretty sure I’ve heard this tale before. At least seven times. And every single one of them ended with me watching my buddy stand at the altar and say, “I do.”
“Whoa. Slow your roll, Thatch.” I cough on my own saliva. “While I know you have a serious soft spot for rom-coms and romance novels, my life isn’t a Lifetime movie.”
“Hallmark.”
I blink and tilt my head to the side. “What?”
“Pretty sure you mean Hallmark,” he explains. “Those are the ones with swoony happy endings. Personally, they’re my favorite.” He winks. “Lifetime movies usually involve someone getting murdered. Or someone trying to get someone else murdered. Or an evil twin sister faking her good twin sister’s death so she can make her sister’s boyfriend fall in love with her while she keeps her sister locked up in the basement.”
“Was I supposed to understand anything you just said?”
“You don’t watch Lifetime?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Fluffing hell, you’re missing out. That shit is like crack. My wife Cass loves it. Sometimes, we even role-play the angry sex scenes. It gets crazy hot, dude. Crazy hot.”
“I think my brain might be bleeding.”
It’s so not normal to have a boss like Thatcher Kelly. I literally never know what’s going to come out of his mouth.
“That’s such a fluffing Wes thing to say.” He chuckles. “Anyhoo, back to Ava, right?” he asks with a knowing smirk. “Pretty sure you have more tea to spill.”
“There is zero tea, Thatch.”
“Oh, there’s tea, Luke. So much tea to spill, you’d make the Sons of Liberty proud.”
I snort. “Did you seriously just reference the Boston Tea Party?”
“I did.” He smirks. “And I’m pretty sure you just tried to deflect my tea-spilling request by mentioning the Boston Tea Party, so I’d say we’re even.”