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“I guess my dad somehow got a last-minute ticket from somebody who was going to bring a date and decided he wasn't. When I sat in the seat reserved for his date, he threw a line at me about how it must be fate because I was sitting in the spot of his date. We got to talking, which led to flirting, which led to drinking, and—"
“And it led to a hotel room?” Lauren guesses.
“Well, he didn't exactlyhavea hotel room when the night started, but I guess he got one when he thought we were heading in that direction,” I admit, and I realize how trashy it sounds when I say it that way. It didn’tfeeltrashy at the time, but that may have been the alcohol talking.
“Who?” all three of them say at the same time.
I clear my throat. “Asher Nash.”
I’m met with silence, followed by squeals and choruses ofholy shit,oh my God, andhow big was he?
All at the same time.
I turn to Chloe, who asked the size question, and I hold out my hands to indicate.
All three women gasp.
“Surely not,” Chloe breathes.
“I’m not even doing it justice,” I admit.
“And he could use it, too?” Lauren asks.
I nod slowly. “Oh yeah. He knew what he was doing.”
“So lucky,” Addy breathes.
“So then what? He treated you to breakfast, and you’re leaving us for Vegas?” Chloe asks.
“Not quite. My parents had to leave early thanks to my dad’s stomach issues, and my mom texted me at like two a.m. that they were out of Pepto. I didn’t particularly want to explain to them that I slept with one of my dad’s players when I showed up in the same dress I wore to the ball the morning after, so I left Asher a note with my number and headed home.”
“Ugh, parents with the cockblock,” Chloe mutters.
Addy shoots her a look before she turns to me. “Why didn’t you wake him up?”
I reach up and tug at the messy bun my hair is currently in. “I tried. I don’t know if it was the sex and whiskey or if he’s just a heavy sleeper, but he was out.”
“So how many hours before he called you?” Lauren asks.
I glance at my watch. “Four days and counting.”
Addy winces. “Oh, babe. Maybe he didn’t see your note.” Her tone is hopeful.
“I don’t know how he could have missed it. I stuck it under his phone. He presumably didn’t leave his phone in the hotel room, right?”
“Maybe he was so upset and distracted that you were gone that he just…picked up his phone without looking at what was under it,” Lauren suggests.
I lift a shoulder. “Maybe. But it sort of feels like the ball’s in his court now, and I can’t sit by the phone waiting for it to ring.”
All three of my friends are quiet, and I know what they’re thinking.
I wait for one of them to say it, and it’s Chloe. “Then ask your dad for his number. You can’t just leave it at one night, Desi.”
“You know as well as I do that I can’t ask my dad for Asher’s number,” I say.
“Then find him on social media,” Addy suggests.
Chloe and Lauren agree it’s a good idea, but I do not.
