Chronicles of a Serial Dater - Book 4: A New Adult Romantic Comedy (6 page)

“All right, this whole thing is ridiculous,” he said as he pushed to his feet. “We’re going down there and ending this.”

“What? No. I’m not apologizing for something I didn’t…”

He gave me a level look. “We have to explain that we have this under control, that no matter what happens we’ll put our friendship first, just like we said we would.”

“Tell her the rules?”

“Tell her the rules,” he smiled. “The rules are there for a reason.”

Reluctantly, I climbed to my feet and paused. “But rule one was to not tell Anette.”

He grinned and pulled me close, planting a sweet kiss on my forehead. “We’ve broken a few of them now, haven’t we?”

I smiled despite the rising acid in my throat. “I suppose so. Maybe we don’t tell her the rules specifically. It’ll just give her more fuel.”

“You’ll see. If we both tell her at the same time how we’re got this under control, she’ll understand.”

As it turns out, she didn’t. Shocker.

Anette was in the kitchen when we came in. Zach went in first. I hid behind him, waiting for her reaction over his shoulder.

“‘Net, you in here?”

“Ah, so she finally let your dick come up for air?” she called back without looking.

“We want to talk to you,” he replied, sounding more serious than I expected.

Anette poked her head around from the corner of the kitchen with a raised eyebrow. She spotted me immediately and scoffed. “Ah, Mommy and Daddy want to have a word? Calling a family meeting?”

“Come on, this is pointless,” I said tugging on his arm.

“She’s right. You’re losing prime Pussy Yoga time. Her favorite position is backstabbing cowgirl,” Anette sneered.

My anger flared. “Oh, you’re fucking one to talk,” I shot back, pushing past him.

Zach physically put himself between us like fists were about to fly. “This is so stupid. Can we please just sit down and talk?”

Anette slammed her arms across her chest and turned her anger on him. “Now you want to talk? After you’ve been sneaking around behind my back for how long?”

During the entire argument, Zach kept his voice level. At no point did he rise to any of her provocations, making me seem even more hysterical in contrast.

“As much as you might want to be, you aren’t the godfather. We didn’t need to ask your permission.”

Her sour expression held until inexplicably, she cracked a smile. With the worst Don Corleone imitation I’d ever heard, she replied, “You come to me, on this day of my daughter’s wedding?”

I’ll spare you the next few exchanges mostly because I was left completely in the dark. Even though I’d never seen the movies, I knew they were running through dialogue from
The Godfather.
How it had any bearing on the situation at hand, I have no idea. But Anette was laughing for the first time in a week, so I let it play out.

In a blink of an eye, they were chuckling and patting each other on the shoulder yet I was still fuming.

“You have to let her make her own mistakes,” Zach said as if I weren’t standing right next to him.

“Wait, what?” I blinked up at him, running the comment through my head a few times just to make sure I hadn’t misheard.

“What?”

“What is
that
supposed to mean?”

Zach turned defensively to me. “I didn’t mean anything,” he pleaded. He looked like a confused puppy being scolded.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. She’ll just write about it later for her adoring fans to like, share, tweet, reblog, and circlejerk over,” Anette snipped.

I pressed my lips together to keep from cursing. It was my turn apparently to feel both their anger.

“What are you talking about?” Zach frowned, looking between us.

If she could’ve burned me on the spot with her gaze, I think she would’ve. I could feel the words floating in her brain, could read them on her face.
He doesn’t know about the blog, does he?

I braced myself for the whole thing to blow up in my face. It’s not like I’d written anything horrible about Zach on the blog, but it was the last shred of privacy gone. She could hold it over my head and knew it. But in a moment of restraint, I saw the comment fade. She changed her mind and didn’t say a word.

“Nothing. Nevermind.” We glared at each other for a minute before she continued, giving Zach a pointed look. “Besides, it’s not her I’m really afraid is gonna get hurt.”

Before I could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, Zach cut in. “
Ooookay
, then are we good?” Anette and I spoke at the same time.

“No.”

“Nope!”

“Great,” he replied sarcastically.

We stared at each other challengingly before I huffed, “I’m done here.”

Relieved she hadn’t totally stabbed me in the back but completely over with the conversation, I stormed out of the apartment and upstairs, leaving Zach to talk with her alone.

I stomped back and forth across the cluttered floor of his apartment, anger coursing through me in waves.
He should’ve listened to me. I knew she wouldn’t change her mind. It didn’t get us anywhere and, if anything, things are worse than ever.

“Great, now I’m just pissed off at everything,” I muttered. I wanted to know what they were talking about downstairs. At the same time, I didn’t. I didn’t want to hear how Zach was trying to talk her into being okay with my life choices, like I was their kid. And I especially didn’t want to be in the room as they joked and kidded around as if everything was all right.

I pulled out my phone to distract myself. I’m not sure how long it was before Zach returned upstairs, looking at me from the door with a sheepish expression.

“I suppose that could’ve gone better,” he said. He pulled off his shirt, mopped his face, and dropped it to the floor. “You don’t happen to have an air conditioner hidden somewhere on your person, do you? Maybe in your bra?”

Without looking up, I gave him a clipped reply. “Nope.”

“You sure? I’d be happy to double check for you.”

I breathed sharply from my nose, still not looking at him.

“Ah well. Do you wanna go out and grab a drink or something?”

“Nope.”

For the first time, he sensed I wasn’t exactly happy. “Okay… want a beer?”

I’d freakin’ kill for one,
I thought. “Sure.”

I watched from over the top of my phone as Zach moved across the living room to the fridge, eying his muscular back as he bent to grab two cans from the bottom shelf.

He stood in front of me holding out the can, forcing me to look up. “She’s the one you’re mad at. There’s no point taking all this out on me.”

I snatched the can from his hand and cracked it open. “Let her make her own mistakes?” I asked, throwing his own comment back at him.

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. I did my best to ignore the way the posture made his biceps bulge. Mr. Magic Tongue would have to explain himself using words this time. “You know I didn’t mean that. That was just for her benefit.”

“It still hurt,” I muttered before taking a long gulp of beer.

Zach cocked his head to the side, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. “I could say I’m sorry, but I kinda like it when you’re mad,” he smirked.

I ran my tongue along the ridge of my top teeth, trying not to smile. “I think rage fucking is probably not a good habit to form.”

“Maybe not. We could cool off in the shower together,” he suggested with a thumb hooked over his shoulder.

My anger softened. “Not yet. I don’t feel like picturing Anette while we get it on.”

With a mock shudder, he made a sour-lemon face. “You’re absolutely right. Let’s chill for a bit then, see where the night takes us.”

As he played Xbox on the floor, I relaxed on the sofa flicking through my phone. Minute by minute, anger dripped away until I reached a point of relative calm. I was happy with the situation, so was Zach, and in the end, Anette would have to be too. If she decided she didn’t want to hang out with us, that was completely on her at this point.

Between the distraction of the phone and being lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice Zach sit up.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a choked voice.

Startled, I looked up at him and back down. “Uh, I don’t know. Just messing around on my phone.” I pressed the home button and the screen went dark. “I was thinking, do you wanna go to bed?” I gave him a sly smile.

“Were you just on Tinder?” he asked. He looked at me a little side on, as if he couldn’t stand to meet my eye directly.

I frowned at the black screen. “I guess, yeah. I was just…”

“Jesus Christ,” he exclaimed pushing to his feet. He paced around the room, almost following the same footsteps as me earlier.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s fine. It’s…” He kept stopping and starting, opening his mouth to ask something and then snapping it shut as he decided not to.

“What?”

“I deleted the app like, two weeks ago. I just assumed you had, too.”

My stomach flipped. The look of restrained disappointment on his face told me more than those two sentences had. I decided to play dumb because admitting the truth was just too difficult after the fight earlier.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I… nevermind. Just, nevermind.”

“You’re still going on dates though, right? You were seeing… shit, what’s her name?”

“Right, yeah,” he said numbly, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.

“Zach, come on. It’s not like…”

“No, I’m not saying it’s…”

Neither of us could finish a sentence. The implication of this conversation hung heavy in the air and I’m not proud of how I handled it. I was just so emotionally exhausted from fighting with Anette, I couldn’t hold much back.

My voice came out low, quiet, almost cold. “You knew I wasn’t looking for anything serious. What about the rules?”

“Fuck the rules.”

“The rules are there so we don’t get into trouble,” I said slowly.

“You mean the one about you sleeping over? Or the one about making sure we have enough time apart between so we don’t…” He trailed off as he stopped pacing. With a few deliberate steps, he crouched in front of me. He earnestly regarded me before speaking, looking into each eye as if he might find something different.

“What are you…”

“Look at me and tell me you haven’t developed feelings,” he insisted. “Say it straight to my face, because it’s been feeling pretty relationshippy in here the past week.”

A lump in my throat blocked the words from coming out at first. I thought we’d been on the same page, humming along between the sheets.
Have I been giving off weird vibes? No wonder he’s freaking out! He thinks I’ve caught feelings for him!

I grabbed his hands and squeezed them tightly. “I’m sorry if I’ve been acting weird around you. I don’t want you to think anything has changed between us. You’ve been such a good friend and you need to know I wouldn’t want to sacrifice that friendship for anything. But no, I don’t have any feelings for you.”

He couldn’t meet my eye. “No, sure. Yeah. Our friendship is totally the most important thing.”

“So why did you delete Tinder?”

“Just cause…” he struggled to reply. “I dunno. We were hanging out so regularly, I guess I didn’t think I needed it anymore. Thought you were a satisfied customer but apparently not. No biggie.” He ripped his hands away and resumed pacing the cluttered floor.

This conversation was giving me mental freakin’ whiplash. “Wait, what? Because I was screwin’ around on my phone just now, you think you aren’t satisfying me in bed? How do you figure?”

“It’s fine. No biggie, really. I get all you want is sex from me, that’s cool. You’ve made that abundantly clear.”

I finally lost my proverbial shit. I launched to my feet and stood right in the middle of his pacing path. “That’s all this was supposed to be.
You
were the one who came up with this whole idea in the first place and now, what? You’re falling in love with me or something?” I scoffed.