4. The Lust Zone
THE LUST ZONE
Mark
Six weeks later my little sister is still going strong with Mister Prep Bro. This will likely still burn out like a brush fire, and I’ll be here for her when it does, like I have been the other times.
Tonight, though, I have to put on my game face for her dinner party and act like I’m all good with her romance with a player.
And, oh yeah, pretend I don’t have a crush on a certain former soccer star. Because a grown man does not have a crush on his sister’s boyfriend’s best friend. That’s ridiculous. Also, technically, it’s not a crush. Asher St. James just happens to be the star of a recent dirty dream.
That’s all.
On a Friday night in February, I enter Flip’s monster pad, giving the side eye to the Degas dancer when Hannah greets me as if she hasn’t seen me in years. “I’m so glad you could come. You get to meet some of my new friends,” she says, throwing her arms around me.
My doubt meter ticks higher. His life has become her life. His friends are now her friends. How can this warp-speed love affair last? “Sounds great,” I say when we separate, my game face in full force.
“I have to tell you something.” She puts her hands on my shoulders and drops her voice. “I think I’m going to move in officially in a couple weeks.” My radar pings again, a loud warning. “I’ve practically been living here already. Flip has only been asking me to move in since January.”
Wait, what? Does she not realize how fast this is? Did she forget what happened the last time she moved in with a guy? And this is so much sooner than Colin. “January was only a month ago,” I point out, as if she doesn’t have access to a calendar.
“I know! Crazy, right?”
“I’ll say. Do you think it’s a good idea to move in that quickly?” I ask out of the side of my mouth. “Don’t you remember?”
“Marky Mark,” she chides, wagging a finger. “What did I tell you about protective big brother mode?”
“It’s just fast,” I point out, in case she’s forgotten how time works. Especially bad boyfriend time.
“I’m in love with him. He’s in love with me,” she says, as she sails into the dining room. “Why would it be a bad idea?”
“You know why,” I say. But there’s another reason too. A big one I’ve learned firsthand—when relationships level up too soon, they shatter, causing collateral damage to a family. “Please give it some time,” I beg, following her.
She pats my shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about me. Here’s what you can do though.”
“Sure,” I say, eager to help. Maybe I should run a background check on Mister Monopoly, for instance.
“If you know anyone at your bank who might want to sublease my cute little studio apartment in the Village let me know.”
On that note, she breezes into the kitchen, where Flip wraps an arm around her waist and drops a kiss to her cheek.
They look too perfect. That’s the trouble. If something is too good to be true, it usually is.
But there’s no time to dwell on Flip since the elevator doors chime once again, and I tense. I just know it’s going to be him.
“I am here, so now we can begin,” Asher says, his too sexy, too rumbly voice floating through the apartment, coasting down my back and making my skin prickle.
Whoever invented the idea of lust is pissing me off.
But it’s poker face time.
As Asher joins the crew, I focus on the other guests in the kitchen, making small talk with Oscar and Felicity, a pair of Brits who are here from Paris, and Archie and Danya from a few blocks away.
They ask if I know some dude at some hedge fund, and some other dude at a private equity firm.
I act interested in flipping through my Wall Street rolodex since it helps me avoid the guy several feet away who turns me on and frustrates me at the same damn time.
Once it’s time for dinner, Hannah shows me to my chair at the dining room table.
Right next to Asher.
That’s not gonna fly. I scan my brain for a good excuse to sit someplace else when my phone rings. Hannah gives me a look that translates to turn your phone off at dinner .
But I grab it from my pocket and waggle it at her. “Rosie’s calling to say goodnight,” I explain, then slip into the living room, relieved to get away from the object of my inconvenient desire.
Rosie and I chat about her day at school, then I say goodnight. “Love you, cupcake,” I tell her.
“Love you too, Daddy,” she says as a fork clinks on a glass from the dining room.
I hang up the phone and prepare to enter the lust zone once more.