Secret Plunge - Jasmin Miller Page 0,57
egomaniac asshole." Her voice is so high and screechy, I'm afraid every glass in this restaurant is going to burst any moment.
I'm not sure anyone would notice since everyone's attention is on this very public display of my newest failure of "How to dump a fuck-buddy-slash-casual-date in public."
I don’t often indulge in women because spoiler alert, I’m still clueless on how to pick a woman who actually means it when she says she wants casual.
My bad judgment is apparent by the drenched light blue dress shirt that’s clinging to my upper body like a second skin.
My bad.
I should have known better.
At least I was smart enough to ask for the corner table in the back of the restaurant.
With the help of the host, we get a very upset Sandra into a cab in less than ten minutes.
It’s a quiet evening otherwise, and George, the host and long-time fan of my career, waits with me for the valet to get my car. “How’s training going?”
Pushing my hands in the pockets of my black slacks, I kick a pebble onto the wet streets and chuckle. “It’s going. I definitely feel my age.”
The grin on his face comes fast, bringing out every last laugh line. I’m sure he’s earned every single one in his life fair and square.
His hand comes down on my shoulder. Hard. “You’re twenty-eight, Atwood. I’m almost three times your age. That’s when you’re allowed to complain about your aches and pains. Gosh, when I was your age . . . I would have given everything to be a professional swimmer, but you know that.”
I do. I come here regularly, either by myself or with company. Partially because of George, not that I’d admit that to him. I’d never hear the end of it.
The valet stops at the curb with my SUV, and I wave at my friend as I make my way to the driver’s side. “I’ll make sure to remember that. Tell that lovely wife of yours I said hi.”
He salutes and sees me off as I leave downtown Berkeley.
I’m not surprised to see a black Mercedes in my driveway when I get home, my best friend Hunter leaning against the sleek passenger side.
After stepping out of my car, I walk past him, knowing he’s going to fall in step with me. “I swear, George is the biggest gossip I know. And fast.”
Hunter chuckles. “You know he’s sharp as a nail. He just enjoys pretending otherwise sometimes.” He elbows me, pointing at my shirt. “But I was going to come over anyway. I had to see the damage for myself.”
“Great.” My teeth clench as I unlock the front door.
As if he knows I’ve had enough for today, he holds up his hands before clapping one on my shoulder. “Sorry, bro.” He reaches behind his back and pulls out a DVD. “I brought entertainment, that Aquaman movie you’ve wanted to watch, so get cleaned up.”
I grunt and walk to my bedroom to take off my sticky, wet clothes.
After a quick shower, I feel marginally better and head back to the living room, my naked feet cold on the hardwood floor.
Hunter is stretched out on one of the sofas. It’s a familiar scene, something we do as often as our demanding training schedules allow. We met during summer swim camp when we were teenagers—alongside our friends Noah and Ryan—and despite competing against each other throughout our careers, our friendship has remained tight.
“Finally, dude. I’m not getting any younger here.” He throws a piece of popcorn at me as I walk to the kitchen to get some water.
I shake my head. “Doesn’t look like you had any interesting plans tonight anyway.”
He’s a bit of a loner, like me. Like all of us are. Except Ryan. He’s got Harper now.
It’s not always easy to fit in a healthy social life with the little time we have outside the pool and gym, which is exactly why I haven’t attempted a serious relationship.
Hunter’s about to say something—most likely another smart-ass retort—when the doorbell rings. We both frown, knowing I didn’t expect anyone. And as much as Hunter likes to drop by uninvitedly, he wouldn’t invite others without asking.
When I open the front door, there’s an old lady on my front porch. With short, dark gray hair, and a sad look in her eyes, she wordlessly holds out an envelope to me. I take it, too perplexed to say anything.
She watches me, her eyes slowly roaming over me from head to toe. Inspecting me. Appraising