Page 22 of Breaking Hollywood

I frown down at my foot. Christ, I didn’t think of not being able to have sex. I’ve clearly been too obsessed with thinking about screwing Speedy. I didn’t even consider the fact that I might not be able to. And it’s not like I’d be able to show my amazing bedroom skills off to her with my foot like this.

That means I can’t have sex with her until I’m fully healed.

“Exactly how long is my foot going to take to heal?” I ask Tate just as the elevator doors open.

“Depends on what the X-ray shows,” he says as he maneuvers me. “But six weeks at least.”

“Fucking hell,” I groan.

Six weeks.

Six fucking weeks to wait before I can get inside Speedy.

Well, that sucks.

The doors on the elevator close.

“So, a Smart car did this to your foot?”

“Tate…” I growl.

“Ah, come on.” He laughs. “You know, if this were me, you’d be giving me shit for months about it.”

“Fine,” I sigh. “Get it off your chest.”

“Fuck, this is so exciting. I don’t know who to tell first.”

“Anyone but that fucker Vaughn West because, the minute he hears, I’ll never live it down.”

Tate goes silent behind me.

I crane my neck to look at him. He’s on his phone.

“What are you doing?”

He lifts his eyes from his phone and grins at me. “Texting Vaughn, of course.”

Ava

I walk out of the hospital, car keys in hand.

Gabe might be a monumental pain in the ass and wind me up like nobody’s business, but I put him in this position with my carelessness, and I should do everything I can to help him.

Probably not bickering with him would be a good idea, too, but, honestly, in an odd way, it’s actually fun, sparring with him.

If not a little surreal.

If you’d told me a few months ago that I’d be single, homeless as of tomorrow, and jobless and that I would hit Gabriel Evans with my car, break his foot, and spend a few hours verbally sparring with him, I would have laughed in your face.

Funny how life can change in the blink of an eye.

Or, as in my case, go to shit in quick succession.

“Ah, crap!” I complain, grabbing the parking ticket off the windshield of Gabe’s car.

Add parking fine to the damage I’ve done to him.

“Just fucking great,” I mutter to myself as I stuff the parking ticket into my bag and get in the car.