Asking For It - Allyson Lindt

Chapter One

My friends and my business were the two things I loved most in this world.

They were also currently the two things causing me the most frustration. I was heading to my favorite all-night bookstore—could it still be a favorite if it was the only one?—in an attempt to take my mind off both.

I wasn’t sure I could enjoy the trip through my guilt, though. I’d blown off my friends’ invitation to spend time with them and their guys, by telling them I had to deal with my shop. Now I was here instead.

For years the three of us were Sadie, Anne, and Lyn. Three Musketeers. Peas in a pod. All sorts of cute phrases for things that just fit perfectly together. But things had changed since they landed themselves in long-term relationships. It wasn’t that they’d cut me out of their lives, but each of the was with two men, and most of that group consisted of our inner circle. Hanging out with them meant watching the flirting, the googly eyes, and subtle intimate touches. And now I was Lyn The Third Wheel. Seventh wheel? Either way, I was the spare, in the trunk for emergencies, but otherwise, on the outside looking in.

That analogy was crappy on a lot of levels, but no one was around to hear it, so I wasn’t going to fix it.

I wouldn’t wallow, though. They were happy, and I was genuinely glad to see that. Sometimes I just wasn’t in the mood to be immersed in their gooshiness.

All right, I was a teensy bit jealous that they each had two guys. I’d never had a problem getting laid. It was easy to hide my insecurities and extra pounds behind a mask for one night, but longer than that and both became evident.

Not wallowing. Not wallowing.

My night would be filled with enjoying a good book, and coffee made on someone else’s espresso machine.

The bookstore-slash-coffee-shop was nestled in a part of Sugar House where old and kitschy met new and trendy.

This was one of the original buildings in the area, and I loved the way vines crawled along the stonework outside. Inside had a similar feel, with solid bookshelves extending in every direction, and an eclectic collection of wrought iron and carved wood in the café.

I liked to wander when I came in here. There were certain sections I always hit up—romance, sci-fi fantasy, and manga—but I wanted to stroll past all the books, make sure I didn’t miss any or leave any lonely.

There were people in almost every aisle, reading, browsing, and lingering. It was a gorgeous sight.

I’d stay in the stacks for hours if I didn’t have to be up early in the morning. I wanted to buy everything that caught my eye. With all my spare money going back into Java Loading, my anime gaming café, I had to limit myself to only a few books.

Selections in hand, I paid, and made my way to the adjoining coffee shop. They had a new salted caramel, extra espresso, with a mocha whip drink that looked incredible.

And it was probably a billion calories. I got the no-caff, no-sugar, no-fat macchiato instead.

There was one free table left. Score. I took my drink and settled in to read. The chatter washed over me, making the scene in my book, where the heroine meets the hero in a crowded train station, feel more real.

“Excuse me,” a seductively deep voice said.

I glanced up from my book to find the owner of the voice watching me with starkly pale green eyes framed by black hair. Hello, sexy. “May I help you?” Some nights I might flirt with him, but I wasn’t in the mood tonight.

“I’m Fred, this is Barney.” He jerked his thumb at the guy with him. Who was just as gorgeous. Fred looked more professional, in a button-down shirt with the sleeves buttoned around his wrists, and Barney was in a faded concert T-shirt and battered jeans.

The serious one and the clown. Interesting, but not unique, combination. Stupid names. “I’m Betty.” I could play along with whatever their game was until they were gone. Especially for the view.

“Told you she was a Betty.” Barney nudged Fred. No surprise, Mister Concert T-shirt wasn’t as reserved, but he was just as nice to look at as his friend.

Fred pursed his lips, but turned a smile back on me. “We’re sorry to interrupt. There are no more free tables. May we share yours?”

It was a polite enough request. I gestured to the