Page 320 of The Doctors Will See You Now

The tricky bastard. He was trying to play dirty.

Me: Probably not. I’ll probably have leftover crepes to tide me over. :)

Take that, buddy.

Which it was actually the truth. No doubt, my mother had probably already packed up a to-go box for me before we even sat down to eat.

Scott: You’re impossible. Can I see you today?

Me: Are you in need of the sex?

Scott: I always need the sex.

“Are you in need of the sex?” My mother’s voice pulled my attention from my phone, and I hadn’t even realized she’d been reading the entire conversation.

Holy hell.

“Why are you reading my text messages?” I asked. She was less than concerned with the fact that she was a little sneaky eavesdropper.

And she ignored my question completely. “Just friends, huh?” She grinned. “It looks like a little more than just friends to me…”

“Fine,” I said on an exasperated sigh. “We’re friends with benefits. You know, where we’re friends and we do the sex, but we’re not committed to one another.”

“So, technically, you could have sex with someone else if you wanted to?”

“Yes,” I answered, even though the idea of having sex with someone who wasn’t Scott sounded about as appealing as going on another first date with Barron the Bore.

“And so could he?”

Oh God. Scott having sex with someone else?

I hated how much I hated that thought.

“Uh…” I swallowed the discomfort down and forced the word, “Yes,” from my lips.

She quirked a brow. “And you’d be okay with that?”

No.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure about that, Harlow?”

“Uh-huh,” I muttered and shoved another bite of food into my mouth before she could shoot another uncomfortable question my way. Avoidance felt like the very best tactic in this scenario. Especially since I had no fucking clue what was going on inside my own head.

I didn’t want a long-term relationship. I didn’t want to be tied down to anyone. And I definitely shouldn’t have cared about the fact that, technically, Scott could have sex with someone else. Anytime he wanted, actually.

He probably is. He knows every fucking vagina in the city.

But what I should’ve been okay with, and what I felt actually okay with, were two very different things.

What in the hell was happening to me?

I had to get away from the relationship inquisition that was my mother before I had a fucking panic attack. “I’m stuffed,” I muttered and slid my chair out from under the table and stood. “What time are we eating at Hot House?”

“Reservations are at one,” Jean-Pierre answered.

“Then I’m definitely going to need to nap off these crepes if there’s any hope of getting my appetite back by then.” I patted my stomach and grinned.