Page 27 of All Bets are Off
“Say anything, and I’ll clock you,” Logan mutters at me before turning to Celine. “Don’t you have anything that will get this stuff off?”
Rummaging in her backpack, Celine produces a packet of makeup wipes and hands them over. As I watch Logan clean his face, I’m struck by how inviting his lips look all smeared and swollen by the wipe, and as much as I’ve been fantasizing about falling into bed for some sleep, I’m suddenly thinking about another activity entirely.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Logan
Sheesh. I’d rather clear a block of Taliban insurgents than spend another hour with four teenage girls. It wasn’t the makeup that bothered me; it was the incessant gossiping, giggling, and embarrassing questions. Who knew girls talked so much about sex? I’m a grown man, and my cheeks burned as they attempted time and time again to draw me into the conversation by asking me what men prefer and what my experiences were. Finally, when they figured out I wasn’t going to answer their questions, they gave up and used me as their personal model instead. By the end of the night, I’d tried on every shade of lipstick, blush, and eyeshadow Sterling’s sister, Bianca, had in her drawers.
“They talked about things I’ve never even heard of,” I tell West. Our baggage has been placed in a room conveniently positioned next to Felix’s and across the hall from his sister’s. Freshly showered, I sit on one of the twin beds. West is sprawled out on the other one, shoes kicked off and tie askew, looking as sexy as I’ve ever seen him.
“Yeah? Like what?”
I name off a few, and West spends the next fifteen minutes looking up the ones he doesn’t know either.
“That’swhat shrimping is?” I ask, dumbfounded after he reads the definition. “That’s not what I imagined at all.”
“What did you imagine?” West asks, looking up from his phone.
“I don’t know. Something to do with food?”
West makes a face. “Ew.”
“Oh, Sterling’s sister said she’s demisexual. What’s that? I can never remember.”
West taps on his phone. “It’s when a person isn’t sexually attracted to anyone unless there’s an emotional connection.” Leaning his head back, he stares into space. “I think maybe I’m the opposite.”
I sit up. “What, you’re sexually attracted to everyoneunlessthere’s an emotional attachment?” Picking up my phone, I type in my own search. “Fraysexual,” I read. “A fraysexual loses sexual interest as they form a bond with the person.” I look up at him, frowning.Is that what’s happening here?But, no. I really needed to get a hold of myself.
“I wouldn’t go that far. Emotion just makes things harder for me. It makes me feel pressured,” West says.
Although West and I have known each other for over fifteen years, we’ve never discussed relationships much—maybe because we’ve never had time for any that lasted very long. I’ve had a few long-term relationships, but they were just comfortable
I remember a young woman West met in DC a couple of years ago who attended Georgetown University, where, if I remember correctly, she was majoring in psychology. They saw each other whenever West was home, and I suppose I would call that his longest relationship, despite the fact that it never got serious.
“Is that what happened with Anna?” I ask.
West sighs. “Anna just wanted more, and with my life the way it was, I couldn’t give that to her. I never felt any attachment to her.”
“So, you let her down easy?”
A guilty look crosses his face.
“West?”
He grunts. “I hate breakups. They’re so awkward, and there’s no way to avoid hurting the other person.”
“Yeah, they’re a bitch. So, how did you do it with Anna?” Something occurs to me. “Tell me you didn’t ghost her.”
West looks insulted. “No!”
“You didn’t break up through a text, did you, because that’s just—”
“No! I just told her—there was someone else.”
“That’s not a nice let-down! It just says you like someone more than you like her.”
West looks uncomfortable. “I might have told her I was in love with a man.”