“I guess that’s why I prefer pussies. They’ve got nine of ’em.”
“Christ, Pauly.” I choke on the words. “I prefer to eat it rather than live it.”
His arm goes around my shoulder as his laugh fills my ears. “I missed the fuck out of you, Thomas. Speaking of…” His hand grips me tighter before he lifts his chin to direct my line of sight. “The hottie at two o’clock has been eyeing you all night.”
I shrug the comment away, even though a small part of me – one that I’m not too happy with right now – hopes that he’s referring to the woman I’d glimpsed earlier. I’d told myself that she’d left. But secretly I want to be wrong. “I’m sure as hell hoping when you say ‘hottie,’ you’re referring to a woman and not an IED.”
“Cheers to that truth. Scary shit,” he says, tapping the neck of his bottle against the rim of my empty glass, “and no, I’m referring to dark hair, great rack, killer body —”
“No, thanks.” I cut him off, but my eyes dart to where I saw her sitting earlier, and immediately I chastise myself.
“You still seeing what’s-her-name?” he asks with the same indifference as I felt toward her.
“Nah…” I let my voice drift off as my thoughts veer to our last fight when she accused me of cheating on her with Stella. “She took an assignment monitoring North Korea.”
“She thought you and Stella were messing around?” he infers.
The thought brings a bittersweet smile to my face. Memories of Stella and me, young and in love, flash through my mind. It feels like forever ago. Probably because it was. Two young twenty-somethings on their first assignment with no one else to help occupy their time. Lust turned to sweet love and then the slow realization that we weren’t any good as a couple. Then came an awkward phase when we had to get over the bitterness associated with lust gone wrong. The passage of time allowed us to realize we were really good at the best-friend thing which in turn made us a great team, reporter and photographer. Inseparable for almost ten years, except for the odd assignment that took us to other places of the world and despite the introduction of significant others.
“Yeah. I get it. I’d probably think the same thing, but…” I shrug. “You’ve seen us together. Know how Stell and I were —”
“Mutt and Jeff,” he mumbles as we both fall into a short silence thinking of her. “I liked what’s-her-name.”
“No, you didn’t.” I laugh loudly because his comment was the farthest thing from the truth. He nods his head in agreement – everyone knew they didn’t get along. “But thanks. I think it had run its course before she changed assignments. You know what relationships are like with what we do.”
“Man, do I know it. What am I on here? Wife number three? Four? You’ve got the right idea with the let’s-have-fun versus the let’s-get-hitched mentality… but uh, she just looked over here again and fuck me, I’d make her wife number five for the night if she’d let me.”
The deep belly chuckle he emits pulls a reluctant laugh out of me, and it takes everything I have not to glance in the woman’s direction. Resistance is futile. Eventually I give in to curiosity and glance up, planning to avert my eyes before she looks our way again.
Intriguing eyes meet mine. Her dark hair is pulled back into a messy knot that should look unkempt but somehow makes her sexier. When our eyes connect, her lips fall open in surprise in an O shape before they correct themselves into a slow, soft smile. I nod my head at her and then casually look away, both hating and loving that pang in my gut that stirs to life.
Something about her – yet nothing I can put my finger on – tells me I should steer clear. So why the fuck do I glance back up to see if she’s still looking? And why do I care?