Page 28 of Raced (Driven 3.50)
“You and your boyfriend bullshit,” I tell him, taking my hat off and tossing it on the table. “I’m so good, dude, labels like that don’t apply to me.”
“Oh Jesus.” He throws his hands up, his beer splashing up the top of his longneck that has him sputtering to wipe it off his shirt. “Forgive me, Oh-King-of-All-Things in his own mind.”
“Damn straight,” I say, loving to get his feathers ruffled.
“Let me ask you something,” Becks says as he props his feet on the table. “Do you fuck her regularly?”
I nearly spit my beer out but don’t because I may be feeling more than good, but no one talks about Ry this way. I make sure my eyes tell him exactly that.
“Oh, excuse me, choirboy Colton. Let me rephrase. Are you having regular relations with her?” he asks in a prim and proper voice.
I can’t help but laugh. Fucker. He just stares at me, eyebrows raised, waiting for me to answer. “Every chance I get.”
He nods his head and works his tongue in his mouth while he thinks. “What’s she doing tonight?”
What’s up with the questions? “She’s was at The House until nine and then heading to dinner with Haddie. Why?”
“So you know her schedule then?”
“And your point is …?” He’s starting to irritate me with this cryptic bullshit.
“When’s her birthday?” He ignores my question by asking another, a regular fucking Socrates.
“September fifteenth.” Becks chuckles and I blow out an exhale at the condescending sound of it.
“Impressive.” He nods his head in approval. “Now I know you’ll know her bra size, but what about her shoe size?”
“What the fuck dude? What are you getting at?”
“Patience, young grasshopper. Bra and shoe size?”
“I’ll young grasshopper your ass if you don’t get to the fucking point.”
He leans forward and lifts a beer from the bucket toward me in offering. I nod my head and take it. Fuck it. I might as well answer him than deal with his crap. Besides, I’ve gotta admit I’m curious where he’s going with this. “Thirty Six D and size nine and half.”
“Nice,” Becks says, drawing it out in a sound of approval. “What are her parents’ names?”
“Daniels,” I grit out, patience lost amidst his amusing twenty questions.
“Last one, I promise.” He puts his hands up in surrender.
“Mr. and Mrs. Thomas.” Take that. I can be a smart ass just like you.
“Just answer.” He sighs in exasperation.
“If I answer, are you going to get to your point?” He nods his head, his grin spreading even wider as I tell him their names.
“Huh.”
“Huh?” After all the build up, that’s all he’s going to give me? I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees waiting for an answer.
He angles his head and looks me in the eyes for a beat. And despite the spinning in my head, curiosity is killing the cat. And of course cat leads me to thinking of pussy and pussy to Rylee. Fuck. I’m definitely drunk.
“Boyfriend,” he says, breaking through my thoughts, know-it-all grin spreading from ear to ear.
“Fuck off.” It’s the only comeback I have because he just baited the hook and I thought he was going to tell me something unexpected. What an ass. I throw the pillow beside me at him and flop back on the cushions.
He catches it and laughs loudly. “Those are things boyfriends know. Not fuck buddies, not random assholes—although, you qualify for the asshole part too—but boyfriends.”
