Entice:The Evolve Series, Book Three(5)

By: S.E. Hall

"Second," she stands and tucks my extra pillow between the headboard and wall before sitting back down beside me, "on school and game nights, booty call curfew is eleven. That work for you?"

"Yeah." I sigh and run my hands along my head, wishing I had some hair to pull. "It won't happen again, Gidge. I'm sorry."

She places a hand on my shoulder with a small smile. "Don't be sorry. This is your house too and we hadn't talked about it. Now we have, so we're all good. Any rules you want to put in place?"

"Nah, I'm easy."

"Made crystal clear by the parade of women coming in and out of here." She laughs and scoots away quickly, ducking the pillow I grab and swing at her head. “Speaking of which, been busier than usual lately—you trying for Guinness or Gonorrhea?"

Here we go—this is what she really wants to talk about. It was a nice segue, funny even, but I’m on to her.

"I mean, you used to at least walk them out and kiss their cheek at the door. I know you said you'll come to me when you're ready, but I can't watch you self-destruct much longer and not say anything." She ducks her head and looks up at me, forcing my eyes to meet hers. “You’re trying to fuck something, or someone, out of your system, Sawyer, and it’s killing you.” Care to share with the class?"

"I would’ve walked her out. She left before I came out of the john."

"What was her name?"

"Molly," I answer immediately.

She sighs heavily, flopping backwards on my bed but jolting right back up like the mattress shocked her. “Oh, God! Gross! I just laid on your bed o’ brothel. Ewww,” she whines.

“Relax,” I roll my eyes at her, “I double wrap and she faked it. There’s nothing on this bed but some sweat and regret.”

She stands, waving me up with her hand. “Still, better safe than sticky. Ew, yuck, not a good joke.” She pulls the blanket all the way up, covering the sheets, then sits back down right on the edge. "Now then,” she again pats the spot beside her and I sit, “her name was Carmen. You weren’t even close!" She slaps my back. “And by the way, I read or heard someplace that double wrapping isn’t recommended.”

“If I triple wrap, I won’t feel a damn thing! And just one? No fucking way. I’ll take my chances.”

“Fine,” she huffs, defeated.

“And how in the hell do you know her name? Are you sure it wasn’t Molly?”

"I’m sure it was Carmen. You were still in the hall, that thing that runs right in front of my bedroom, when she said, and I quote, 'don't worry, Daddy, Carmen's gonna make you feel real good.'” Her breathy imitation and finger air quotes are hilarious, but I bite back my laughter, knowing she wants me to take this whole conversation seriously. “Highlight of my day, really, thank you."

What am I doing? I'd kill any man that treated one of my girls (and by my girls I mean Laney, Bennett, and Whitley) the way I've been treating women lately. There's a big difference between trying to have a good time and straight up being a dick. I don't want to be the latter, but damned if I can find the cure for my fucked up head.

I lie back, mesmerized by the ceiling fan blades whirling above me. "I'll try to be better, be nicer. I swear I'm not that guy."

"I know you’re not, which is why I'm worried."

“Don’t be,” I reply with a resigned sigh. “Eventually I’ll get happy in the same pants I got mad in.”

“What? You’ll get in someone’s pants again and then you’ll be happy?” She turns her head to look at me, face full of confusion.

I chuckle at her and shake my head. “It’s a saying: ‘you’ll get glad in the same pants you got mad in.’ As in, wait the woman out and she’ll be over it quicker than she changes clothes. I didn’t write it. Ask Confucius’ ass to explain it. And by the way,” I poke her in the side, “don’t you chicks usually veg out and eat when you have problems? You haven’t offered to make me shit. I should be surrounded by junk food by now.”

She mocks me, poking out her bottom lip and batting her eyelashes. “Aw, does Sawyer need a hot fudge sundae?”

“Now you’re talking, woman! Geez! You were holding back on me. What kind of friend are you?”

She stands, pulling me up by the hand. “My bad. How about I give you extra sprinkles? Will you forgive me then?”

“Maybe. You better hope you’ve got chopped nuts and chocolate ice cream though or we’re through.”


Lost Boy


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