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“Thanks.”
We don't speak as we walk to my car. Regret and guilt seem to bounce around in my stomach with every silent step, but it's better this way. For both of us.
***
“Bottoms up, girls.”
I lick the salt on my hand, down the vile liquid from the shot glass in my other hand, and suck on the lemon wedge Kara hands me.
“Ugh.”
This is apparently the living and taking risks my friends were talking about when I took a timeout from the list. I promised my friends I'd have a big one with them tonight, but tequila is disgusting and I've heard too many stories about the after-effects to completely relax.
“See, the lemon makes it better,” Kara says.
I shake my head. If this is what Kara considers better, then I don't want to know what tequila tastes like without the lemon and salt. My oesophagus and stomach are burning.
“Next one,” Danni calls.
Three tequila shots are lined up for each of us. Resigned to my fate – a hangover of epic proportions – I reach for more salt and lemon and pick up my next shot glass.
“To girl's night,” Tori says.
“And to as many as we can cram in while Claire takes a break from her list.”
Or until Dylan leaves.
I force a smile and try not to think about how quickly time is flying by at the moment before downing my second shot. I suck on the lemon wedge, as bitter as the thought of Dylan leaving. We've been having sex for six weeks now. I see him twice a week – going to his bar, hanging out, and learning more of the ropes. Dylan says he should pay me like the rest of his staff.
I'd hoped to see him tonight, but the girls decided they didn't want to go to Brody's. Too bad if I'm craving his company, his smile, and the satisfaction he always gives me. I've ignored my girls while in relationships before and I refuse to do it again, especially since Dylan and I aren't in a relationship.
There's no sitting by the phone, waiting for him to call – Kara would kick my butt if I did. And there's no obsessing over my behaviour and my next move – trying to manipulate the relationship or trying to take it to the next level. It is disconcerting and freeing all at once. Mostly, though, it's necessary to keep things in perspective. If anything about what I'm doing with Dylan reminds me of previous relationships, I'll start fantasising about a future with him again.
I won't risk it.
“Last shot, ladies, then we dance.”
I pick up my last shot, throw it down and take a small amount of comfort from the fact that I'm pleasing them, even if I'll be hung over tomorrow.
A popular R&B song hits the speakers of the new club we've gone to, Shameless, and Tori whoops and takes hold of my hand, dragging me onto the dance floor.
God, when was the last time I danced with my girlfriends? Too long ago, I suspect. I feel rusty. Thankfully, it doesn't take me too long to get back into the swing of dancing, and I'mthrowing my head from side to side and laughing with my girlfriends when I feel the vibration of my phone in my bag.
Frowning at the late hour and worried about who might be trying to get in touch with me at this time, I pull out my phone and see a text from Dylan.
Where did U end up tonight?
Before I can reply, Kara snatches the phone out of my hands and types out a message that she sends to Dylan before I can get my phone back.
“What...?”
“He's after a booty call. You're not interested tonight.”
Even the thought of Dylan wanting to have sex with me tonight makes my heart speed up and my sex clench. We're steadily working our way through our mutual fantasy list, but for every fantasy we play out, a new one comes along.
Kara still doesn't approve of me hooking up with Dylan, and I've made a few comments about the fact he isn't showing me fun outside the bedroom. I haven't told my friend that it's not Dylan's choice to just keep things sexual. Kara would want to know why, and I don't want to discuss it. It would only convince Kara she was right about my feelings for the man.
“What did you say to him?” I ask.
