the table. “You don’t need a lawyer; you need a therapist.”
“Again, I concur,” Ben said, shifting in his seat. “Russell, we all know how you feel about Abby. You might as well have skywritten it the day you two met. Why are you trying to sabotage yourself?”
Russell arched an eyebrow. “Oh, hello, pot. Meet kettle.”
“Yeah, I screwed up with Honey. Louis did the same with Roxy. Are you seeing a fucking pattern, here?” Ben actually looked angry with him. Get in line. “How about learning from our mistakes?”
“This isn’t the same thing.” God, he hated talking about his insecurities. Knowing they were there was hard enough without dragging them out into the open. “You two have educations, long-term jobs, even the way you speak sounds different than me. I’d be a novelty to her, and eventually, the shine would wear off.”
Louis let out a low whistle. “Way to give her credit, man.”
Russell was done trying to explain his position. The definition of useless was trying to convince two assholes in love with their girlfriends that shit didn’t always work out perfectly. Not every situation had a happy ending. “Right. I’ll let you two get back to planning your double wedding. I’m calling it a night.”
When he pushed back from the table and stood, Louis gripped his forearm. “Listen up. Whatever damage you’ve done is probably fixable at this stage. Don’t heap so much shit on top of the situation that an apology won’t be enough.”
Russell walked out of the Longshoreman with those words ringing in his ears.
Chapter 6
ABBY RUBBED HER blurry eyes and blinked a few times, hoping the laptop screen would come back into focus. No dice. She’d officially hit the wall. Problem these days was, even when she lay down and attempted to sleep, numbers streamed by on the inside of her eyelids. Important numbers. She used to love playing with formulas and manipulating values, but she never got a break anymore. Numbers had transformed into her enemy.
She could hear Honey and Roxy out in the living room, spoons clinking on bowls as they ate ice cream and watched Finding Bigfoot. They’d tried several times since Monday night to entice her into hanging out, but she’d continued to hide in her room, pretending work was the only thing keeping her there. Coward.
Two days had passed since she’d fallen asleep with Russell and woken to an orgasm to beat the band. Two days since she’d had her eyes opened and seen Russell in a new light. Two days since he’d held up a mirror, reflected the light straight back, and blinded her. Truthfully, she was embarrassed. For so many reasons, she couldn’t even begin to enumerate them. Like a typical starry-eyed virgin, she’d projected feelings that weren’t there. Seen and felt something from Russell that didn’t exist, very likely damaging their friendship in the process.
If she were more confident where the opposite sex was concerned, she could just blow his rejection off. So what? I’m not his type. Then go find someone who could appreciate an awkward, small-breasted math geek still in possession of her cherry.
Abby slapped a hand to her forehead. More than anything, she wanted to tell Honey and Roxy what had happened and get their take, but she no longer felt sure of how they would react. After all, hadn’t she been one hundred percent positive Russell would never hurt her feelings? He’d sure as heck torn that belief down the middle with a resounding rip. Roxy and Honey had faced obstacles at the outset of their relationships, but they’d definitely never had to deal with the man not finding them attractive. Yes, she had very little experience with men, but she was fairly certain that if Russell had found her appearance pleasing, he wouldn’t have zoomed for the exit. Were men even capable of turning down a sexy, obviously willing woman? From what she’d been told, her roommates’ boyfriends definitely hadn’t.
Would Roxy and Honey react with pity? Or worse . . . maybe Abby’s problem would be such a foreign concept to them, they wouldn’t even know what to say. At twenty-four, with zero sexual experience to speak of, she felt enough like a freak already without the additional freakhood.
“Hey, Einstein.” Roxy appeared at her door, rubbing one stocking-clad foot against the opposite leg. “Honey found Weekend at Bernie’s in the ninety-nine-cent bin at Rite Aid. Get in on this.”
“I made cupcakes, fool,” Honey shouted from the living room. “Made them with strawberry frosting because