Hard Checked (Ice Kings #4) - Stacey Lynn Page 0,11
I stand abruptly. “I should get going.”
For a brief moment, she looks stunned. I swear her face turns sad before she nods.
“Sure. Okay.”
I pat my pockets and come up empty.
Gigi points to a spot on her kitchen counter. “Your keys and everything else are over there.”
I remember the shit she gave me when she took them from me. Along with the question I’d asked her.
Does it ever get lonely?
If I want company, I have no problems finding it.
Yeah. It’s definitely time to go.
I’m now remembering that response with her holding that cherry-flavored condom in her hand, and I’m pretty damn certain that’s not how it actually happened. I also remember her saying something wise about needing to be happy with yourself but I was already too drunk to appreciate it.
“Thanks for everything,” I say once I’ve slid my keys into my pocket and tugged my hat down low. I don’t look at my phone screen. I don’t want to know yet if Madison ever called me back after the dozens of messages and texts I sent last night before getting blackout drunk seemed like the perfectly reasonable solution for my problems. “Honestly Gigi. I appreciate your help last night. And this morning.”
She grins up at me, pink lips in a tight smile. “Anytime.”
“I’ll just…” Be awkward and make this suddenly ten thousand times worse. “Wait outside for the Uber.”
She points to a door beyond her kitchen. There are two that are facing in an L-shape before the short hallway that leads to her bathroom. “Door on the right will take you down to the alley. Take care, Sebastian.”
Right. Somehow, I like hotshot instead of my first name coming from her. Especially with the strange look she’s giving me. Like I’ve upset her somehow. Or disappointed her. I know the look well from the last few years of my turmoil with Madison.
“See you around?”
“Whenever you guys stop in, I’ll probably be here.”
“Right. Thanks again.”
“Like I said before, no problem.”
She turns back to her food and grabs her phone at the table. I’ve done something wrong. Only I can’t figure out what. Which means when I leave, carefully trudging down the rickety metal steps outside to the alley and out to the street, my mind isn’t on the lack of texts from Madison, it’s on the look Gigi gave me when I told her I had to leave.
And that’s not cool.
Chapter Four
Gigi
It’s not the first time in the last week that I’ve walked into my bedroom, such as it is, and my gaze has gone immediately to where Sebastian passed out on Saturday night. It’s not even the first time I’ve scanned the area and been embarrassed for the mess he so politely called me out on— it only took a slowly arching brow.
It is the first time I’ve walked in, cleaning bucket in one hand, vacuum in the other, determined to clean up my mess.
I’ve never been great at cleaning or picking up. It’s easier to sweep all my dirty clothes off the floor and dump them in the basket I take to the laundromat. Since that’s all a pain in the butt, I’m more likely to go buy new clothes than shuffle everything down the stairs, through the alley, and across the street to my parking spot in a private lot.
My mind constantly runs with a hundred things on my to-do list. I’d rather sit and read or go for a walk or spend an afternoon at a museum or strolling through the farmer’s market than I want to be stuck inside, armed with a dusting rag and mop bucket.
While I know Sebastian’s teasing of me was playful, watching him hop and skip around my mess was mortifying. I shouldn’t even care what he thinks of me. I’ve never cared if people see me as I am before. And truly, his opinion of me shouldn’t matter.
I’m the girl who helped him out. I’m the girl who serves him drinks with a smile. And I’m the girl who will never, ever be on his radar for a woman.
Besides, he’s still technically married.
I’m being stupid. I haven’t yet washed the sheets, mostly because I like the gentle waft of his body wash or cologne when I roll onto the pillow he slept on. And that’s just gross.
Not at all me.
I don’t get hung up on men. Or at least I haven’t since Evan and I divorced, and even then I’m not all that sure I was hung up on him.