One Night Stand-In (Boyfriend Material #3) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,41
reasonable back then,” I say.
Amy shakes her head. “You were both full of fire and pride and raw emotions.”
I stay quiet, not entirely admitting how many wild emotions were swirling inside me then. I didn’t admit it to Lucas last night either.
But Amy won’t let me get away with a noncommittal answer. Her eyes are piercing as she meets my gaze. “Lo, you really cared about him. You had feelings for him. That’s why it hurt.”
My heart squeezes at her words. There’s no point pretending with my friends. “Yes. Fine, I did have feelings for him,” I say, speaking honestly. “And that’s probably why I carried the hurt around for so long, nursing it like a houseplant.”
“You watered it regularly,” Peyton says with a soft smile. “We helped you water it if you needed to. But now you don’t. That’s good. Life goes on, and we move on and forgive.”
“And sometimes I guess we forgive ourselves,” I say, sinking back into the couch, mulling over what happened over the years and in one evening. “Maybe we needed to be forced to spend time together to face the past. Because in this flash of clarity, I saw how I should have done things differently at the time. I should have told him why it hurt so much.”
“You weren’t ready then. Don’t beat yourself up,” Peyton says. “You were young and hotheaded. Both of you. Misunderstandings happen and can fester.”
“Definitely. And you found an opportunity to deal with it when you were ready, when fate forced you to. But tell us more about how it un-festered,” Amy says, big green eyes imploring me.
With the heart-to-heart behind us, I feed Amy her favorite meal—a true story with a touch of romance.
I tell them about last night, the barbs, the fiery banter, the moment he yanked me away from the motorcyclist, our hands in the button shop, the confessions in the comic store, the glee in finding the cheese shop, and then how we talked at Pin-Up Lanes, and how the talking led to long overdue apologies, and how I’m sorrys led to the bedroom.
“It was like a movie. You know those movies where you reconnect with the guy from your past, and you wind up wandering the whole city together? Talking as you crisscross New York? It would be called One Night Stand-In. That’s how Lucas referred to himself.”
Amy arches a brow. “Oh, did he now?”
“It was a joke. It was a thing. We were just messing around,” I explain.
“Messing around indeed,” Peyton puts in under her breath.
“Anyway, we could also call it Two Nights in the City or something,” I say, returning to the name for our story.
Amy sticks her arm up straight. “I vote for One Night Stand-In. Also, hello! Can it please be a book before it’s a movie? The book is always better than the flick. Plus, this can be my next great rom-com.”
“It doesn’t have a rom-com ending, Ames,” I point out.
She bares her teeth at me. “Hush. Stop speaking such blasphemous things.”
Peyton chimes in, shaking her head, her lush red hair swishing back and forth. “Book or movie, I say we call it Two-Night Stand.”
Amy smacks Peyton’s knee playfully. “But we can’t. We don’t know if they’re having another night together.”
Peyton rolls her blue eyes. “Obviously they are.”
I clear my throat, cutting into their conversation. “Obviously we aren’t sleeping together again.”
Amy quirks a brow. “Why is it obvious? Was the sex bad? Oh no.” She gasps, covering her mouth, before whispering in horror, “Lucas is a two-pumper.”
Peyton frowns. “He couldn’t find your magic button. Oh, I’m so sorry, hon.”
“Both of you need muzzles.” I lower my voice, glancing around. “He’s insane. He’s an animal. He’s completely ungentlemanly, and it’s totally what I want. But . . .” I sigh heavily. “We were just getting it out of our systems. It was pent-up stuff from years ago. Like a powder keg. You defuse it, and then you move on.”
“Is that how powder kegs work?” Amy deadpans.
“I’d like to know that too. Because I only know the simile our lust was about to explode like a powder keg. Which sounds like you last night,” Peyton says, meeting my gaze with eyes full of sass.
I shrug, but I’m smiling, owning this moment. “Last night was good. What can I say? But it can’t happen again. Because the friendship is too important. I like being friends again. I missed him so much, and I don’t want him out of my life