Josh and Hazel's Guide to Not Dating - Christina Lauren Page 0,68

“Usually by this point in the night, she’s two bottles in and designing a saddle for Winnie out of cereal boxes.”

From the couch, Tyler lets out a bro-y, “Right?”

I pinch Josh’s bicep in bratty retaliation, and then give it an appreciative stroke because he seems extra buff under my hand. To cover the shiver that runs through me, I let out a playful, “Ooh. You’re all flexed and beefy tonight.”

He slaps my hand away. “Pervert.”

“Did you do pre-date push-ups?”

“No.”

“This muscle tone is all just from jerking off, then? Wow.”

He flicks my ear, hard, and our eyes snag for

one

I need to come.

two

I need to come.

three seconds

He gives a dark half smile. “I hit the gym a lot this week.”

Holy shit. The entire duration of our banging flashes through my eyes when he says this, his voice all low and growly.

We were sober last Friday.

We had intentional sex.

Oh my God, I know Josh Im’s sex sounds.

Josh’s eyes go to my neck, my cheeks, and his eyes widen a little so I know the heat I’m feeling beneath my skin is visible to him. “Haze . . .”

“What are you two talking about?” We startle into awareness as Sasha sashays into the living room with a veritable fishbowl of wine cupped in her hand and takes half of it down in a few long swallows. Both Josh and Tyler watch this with interest.

“Nothing,” Josh and I mumble in unison.

Sasha indelicately wipes the back of her hand across her mouth in a move that earns her about seventy Fun Points and then lets out a long Ahhhhhhhh afterward, earning her another twenty.

“Thirsty?” Tyler asks. His tone surprises me; for the first time tonight, it’s bordering on dickish. I wouldn’t blame him for being a little irked at the date crashers if he thought he stood a shot at getting laid.

But Sasha doesn’t even seem to realize he’s spoken. “Josh took me to the cutest little play earlier.”

Something inside pinches my left lung, and I rub my rib to ease it. “Yeah? Which one?”

“It was an all-female production of King Lear.”

Tyler feigns snoring, but I look over at Josh, trying madly to stifle my genuine hurt. “You saw it without me?”

A panicky shine comes into his eyes. “I wasn’t sure you—Zach had two extra—and Sasha was free—”

“It’s fine.” I quickly tuck my little pout away because I can tell from the look on his face that he feels sincerely guilty.

He settles in a chair across from Tyler, mouths Sorry to me again, and gives a covert, wide-eyed glance at Sasha as she rounds the couch, as if to say to me, I didn’t know what else to possibly do with her!

At least, that’s how I’m choosing to interpret it.

“What about you guys?” Sasha plops down next to the mostly prone Tyler, jostling the glass of wine balanced on his chest. He lifts it to avert a spill, and uses the opportunity to pull a few long swigs into his mouth. I take a seat on the arm of the couch.

“Craze made dinner,” he says, and then burps into his fist. Josh and I exchange a brief confused-by-this-nickname glance, and his eyes narrow a fraction of a second before Tyler reaches up and slides his burp hand into the hair at the back of my head, massaging. “Lasagna. We’re just chilling at home, catching up.”

At this, Josh’s left eyebrow arches significantly and I cut in quickly, rolling over Tyler’s awkward use of home with a bursting “I also made garlic bread and a bag of salad!”

Knowing exactly what I’m trying to distract him from, Josh turns his full attention to me. I see it in his face: So this is a thing then, huh? You and Tyler? Hangin’ at ‘home’? Ripping bags of salad open for your man?

I return the glare, trying to convey my thoughts right back to him. Did I misunderstand you the other day? Didn’t you want me to explore this with Tyler? Or was that a way to get me to stop inviting you into my vagina? It’s just dinner, anyway!

Will you be driving him to his AA meeting later, as well?

Maybe!

He’s still staring at me, but his expression has morphed from that perplexing possessiveness into amusement, as if he is enjoying my obvious mental bender. I scowl at him, and he laughs.

“So, hey,” Sasha says, draining her glass and standing, presumably to get another. “I have these tickets to Harvest Fest. Four, actually.”

Tyler bolts up, eyes wide. They are very bloodshot.