Page 9 of Yanked (Frenched 1.50)
After three quick raps, I stood back, my heart banging hard against my ribs and a goofy grin on my face. I hadn’t seen him in a month—I was going to fucking pounce.
Nothing.
I knocked again, a little harder this time.
Nothing.
What the hell? He’d buzzed me in, hadn’t he? So he knew someone was coming up. I tried the door—locked.
Frowning, I knocked a third time, five sharp staccato beats.
“OK, coming!” called a voice from inside.
My jaw fell open. What the hell?
The voice was female.
As was the body that opened the door.
Female. With wet hair. And wearing a robe.
I stared at her, unblinking.
“Oh.” Her perfectly plucked eyebrows rose in surprise. “I thought you were Lucas. Can I help you?”
My eyes dropped to the towel in her hands. She brought it to the ends of her long hair, squeezing the last of the moisture out. It was a navy and white striped towel. I knew that towel. I used that towel after every shower I took here.
That was my fucking towel.
My neck was hot under my coat. “Is Lucas here?”
“No, he ran out real quick. Was he expecting you?” The girl, a knockout in her mid-twenties with blue eyes, clear skin, and long strawberry blond hair, looked quizzically at my suitcase.
My blood began to simmer. Here I was in my slouchy wool hat with the floppy flower on the side, all bundled up in my winter jacket and snow boots, red-nosed from the cold, and Lucas had the fucking Little Mermaid in his apartment, fresh from a shower, her cheeks flushed with warmth. Holding my towel.
Who the hell was she?
I breathed hard through my nostrils. “Can I ask who you are?”
The girl looked taken aback for a moment, but answered, “I’m Jessica. And you are?”
The name hit me like a punch in the teeth. Jessica. Fucking Jessica was here, in his apartment.
No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. Jessica was not in the Spontaneous Plan.
“I’m Mia.” I waited for her to react to the name—surely Lucas had mentioned me.
She looked blank.
No fucking way. He hadn’t told her about me?
“Mia Devine,” I went on, bristling. “His…his…” The word girlfriend was stuck in my throat. But I was his girlfriend, wasn’t I? We’d been in love for eight months! Just because he didn’t like labels didn’t mean I couldn’t use them.
“His…” Jessica prompted, gesturing with one hand, like get on with it, I got a blowout to get to here.
“His girlfriend.” Defiantly, I stood a little taller and looked her in the eye. “I live in Detroit.”
She looked surprised. “Lucas has a girlfriend in Detroit?” The way she said it made it sound like he might have girlfriends in other cities as well, and if I didn’t hate her before, I did now.
