a dick to everyone!”
The idea that everyone thought I was in love with my best friend was horrifying, and I saw only one way to change that perception. I needed to get laid.
B EFORE LEAVING that evening, I smoked a bowl with my neighbors on the other side of my house, Greg and Candi Morrison. They were the nicest people who always offered to share their weed since I kept an eye on their backyard and made sure it looked good. They rented the house from her parents, and that was a stipulation of their continued residency. The inside was immaculate, and they only smoked the bong pipe outside on their back deck.
Normally I didn’t take them up on their proposal, but my stomach was still iffy and I needed to take the edge off without hitting the tequila in my cupboard. So I crossed the lawn, reminded them that the officer might still be on Mrs. Sorrel’s front porch, and climbed the stairs.
“The wind’s goin’ the other way,” Greg explained as he passed me the bong shaped like an elephant. “We’re good.”
Candi then told me where they had picked up the pipe we were currently using. They had an extensive pipe collection from all over the world—they were both freelance journalists. She was the photo kind and he was a writer. It was nice that they loved each other and worked together, which I told them often.
Greg interrupted her story. “You want a glass of wine?”
I shook my head. “I’m supposed to be hydrating.”
He brought me an orange Gatorade instead. It was good of him. Electrolytes and pot—I was sure to be in good shape after that.
Walking toward Wrecked, where I was meeting Mia, I was aware I was moving slower than usual—courtesy of the weed. As I passed by the patio of Delarosa, the Cuban restaurant that made the Champola de guanábana I liked, I saw Coz and Hutch Crowley waiting in line outside. I was going to cross the street so they wouldn’t see me, but that seemed childish, and since I was stoned, and pretty darn calm, I stayed my course.
“Hey,” Hutch greeted me warmly, and I was annoyed, baked or not, that he checked me out, up and down, since he was with the greatest guy on the planet. He shouldn’t have been checking anyone out when he had a six-foot-two carved specimen of manhood standing beside him.
Coz was mouthwatering. The long-sleeved navy shirt set off his dark hair and eyes, the black dress pants clung to his muscular thighs, and he’d worn the new monk strap ankle boots we’d bought the last time we were in Miami. He had his suit jacket draped over his arm and had pinned the shirtsleeve up, and even though I knew he thought his missing left arm was the first thing people noticed, it wasn’t true. Any connoisseur of beauty noticed Coz’s gorgeous black eyes first, then his broad, strong shoulders, long legs, and perfect ass. My throat closed up just looking at him.
“Wow, Kel, look at you,” Hutch said smoothly, reaching out to touch the collar of my pale blue dress shirt. “You clean up nice.”
I could, upon occasion, and would have added a tie if I was eating with Coz at Delarosa. It was in no way a casual restaurant, and I was wondering how Hutch was going to get a pass with his denim. Coz was dressed up so I had to wonder why Hutch was slumming.
“Did you tell him where you were eating?” I asked Coz.
He grunted the no.
“That was shitty,” I admonished my friend.
“Are you eating with us?” Hutch asked. “I mean, you’re certainly dressed for it.”
I was in my three-piece white suit—it was summer, after all—and the only thing missing on me was the tie. I even had a pocket square. I’d worn it to make a good impression on Emmett’s son and to get noticed and hopefully laid later.
“You’re on a date, aren’t you?” I said snidely.
“Well, yes, but—”
“What kind of stupid question is that, then? Am I joining you,” I retorted, trying not to snarl. “What the fuck?”
Hutch bristled; I could tell from the