from the coffee table, and when I saw the name on the screen, I squeaked, all but throwing my laptop to the side and nearly spilling my wine in the process of reaching for it.
“What? Who is it?” Gemma asked, eyes wide with concern.
“It’s Makoa.”
Gemma squealed, abandoning her laptop to jump up on the couch next to me. She was practically on top of me as I read the text.
Makoa: Hey, gorgeous. How’s your Friday night going?
I hated how red and hot my cheeks were, how wide my smile was as Gemma squeezed my arm and shook me and giggled like a girl in the audience of a BTS concert.
Me: Well, I’m in sweatpants and already one wine bottle down, so I’d say pretty great. How about you?
Makoa: First you’ve got me imagining you in yoga pants, now sweats? You really are the devil.
Gemma quirked a brow at me then, but I waved her off just as a new text came through.
Makoa: My night is going okay, but I think my Saturday could be better.
I bit my lip, typing out Oh, and why’s that? as my response. Gemma and I were glued to my screen as the little bubbles bounced, letting us know he was typing, but then they went away. I frowned, looking to Gemma just as the phone buzzed in my hand.
With a picture of two tickets to Moulin Rouge! at the Nederlander.
“Oh my God!” Gemma grabbed the phone from my hands, zooming in on the picture. “Belle. These are third row tickets. In the freaking Orchestra! What even?!”
I tore my phone out of her hands, smiling at the screen. “Those had to cost a pretty penny.”
“I’d say,” she agreed. “He’s really showing out for you.”
I smiled again, gripping the phone a bit tighter as my heart raced. And the longer Gemma watched me, the harder that grip became.
“Belle.”
I refused to look at her.
“You like him, don’t you?”
“Hush,” I said, typing out my response to Makoa — which was just a string of excited emojis. Then, I asked what time he’d pick me up.
As soon as the text was sent, Gemma took my phone again, this time propping her ass up long enough to shove it under her and then sit on top of it.
“Hey!” I argued.
“You’ll get this back when you answer my question.”
I huffed. “Of course, I like him. Isn’t it obvious?”
“I mean, you like him like him.”
I blinked.
“Isn’t this going to be date three?”
I smiled at that, shimmying my hips. “It sure is.”
“Which means…”
“Bang town!” I jumped up, bending over the arm of my couch and arching my back as I looked behind me at Gemma. I made my best “O” face and twerked my ass. “Oh yeah, Zaddy Mak. Just like that. Right there, don’t stop!”
Gemma swatted my ass in a fit of laughter, and I plopped back down, reaching for my wine glass.
“Okay, yes, that’s one part of it,” she said when she finally stopped laughing. “But… are you really sure you want to let him go after this?”
All the laughter left the room with that question, and Gemma watched me with a sobering look of pity while my phone pinged under her ass. I looked at her crotch hopefully, but she swatted my hand when I tried to reach for the phone.
“You’ll get that back when I say you do.”
I chuckled. “Okay, Mom.”
“Answer my question.”
I sighed, hopping off the couch to pace with my wine. I was far too uncomfortable to sit if we were going to talk about this.
“I don’t know, Gem. It’s not as simple as what I want.”
“Yes, it is.”
“It’s not, though.” I held out my hand, exasperated. “Look, you don’t get it, okay? You were married to Carlo right out of college, and now you have Zach. You’re the kind of girl guys find adorable and sweet. They want to protect you and take you home to meet their family. They want to marry you.” I swallowed, turning for another pace. “Me, on the other hand? I’m the one they fuck a few times, send some dick pics to when they’re horny, and — my favorite — the one they hit up as soon as their relationship ends to take them out and show them a good time.”
Gemma’s shoulders slumped when I turned back around, and I tore my eyes away from her. There weren’t many things I hated more than someone looking at me like they felt sorry for me.