Page 53 of The Path to Loving Him
And God, I just had sex with him again.
He’s going to think I’m fucking with him. When, in reality, this is just sort of all a coincidence. I thought I bombed the interview. I didn’t think I would get the job, so the one night with Ryland was very appealing. Now that I have the job and he’s my landlord and my boss, things are more complicated.
Maybe . . . maybe I just need to go to the school tomorrow and smooth things over with the principal because I don’t want them making any special concessions for me.
The last thing I need is for Ryland to be pissed at me. Not only because he holds the key to my shower rights but also because I genuinely don’t think he needs the extra layer of stress in his life.
“Okay, well, I’m going to go.”
He nods. “Have a good night.”
“You too,” I answer awkwardly, then bolt out of there as quickly as I can.
I need to make an action plan and make one quick before this all blows up in my face.
Chapter Ten
GABBY
I sit in my car, staring at the school in front of me as Bower goes on and on about a piece of chocolate cake she experienced.
Yes, she experienced it, not ate it . . . that sheexperienced.
I’ve heard that it was life-changing.
That it was orgasmic.
That it was unlike anything she’s ever put in her mouth.
And even though I’m happy for my friend that she found a piece of chocolate cake that really suits her needs, I need her to focus on me.
Selfish?
Maybe.
But a piece of chocolate cake does not overtake the situation that I’m currently living.
So while she’s describing the sprinkles that were on top of the cake, I cut in, “We had sex.”
She pauses.
She pauses long enough that I swear I can hear her thinking from the other side of the phone.
“Umm . . . what?” she asks, popping her lips.
“Ryland and I had sex.”
“Yes, I’m aware. Why are you bringing this up again?”
“No, we had sex again.”
“Wait, for a second time? Even after he said there would be no distractions allowed?”
“Yup,” I say. “It happened last night. He fucked me in the downstairs bathroom.” Whispering, I say, “I can still feel the way he gripped my hips.”
“Dear God,” she sighs. “How did this happen?”
“Well, that’s the shitty part. He wasn’t himself last night, and I asked him if he wanted to talk about it because, I don’t know, he seems like a good guy, and he took pictures of my apartment because he wants to replicate it for his house, and I thought that was cute, and technically, he’s a single dad?—”
