Page 31 of Make Me Laugh

I’m pretty sure that’s the understatement of the century. “I’m not ready to dive into that when dollar signs and memories of last night’s mind-blowing sex are clouding my judgment,” I blurt, pulling a hoodie over my head and sliding my wallet into the pocket of my shorts. “Her voicemail mentions the company she worked for along with her last name.” Before Enzo decided to come on tour with me as my manager, he’d been in cyber security. I’ve seen him do really weird shit with less information.

“Not needed.” He looks up from his phone. “I didn’t like the way Franceska’s ex was talking to her last night, so I had her share her location to make sure she got home safe. She’s in a different location this morning, and I bet we’ll find a Hex with her in Salem.”

Oh, and I’m the one who’s obsessed.

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE ONE WHERE HEX GETS DOXXED

Comment: Anyone else constantly refreshing their feed to see if there’s been an update on that stand-up comedian and book girl?

Comment reply: I haven’t been this invested in someone else’s relationship since those athletes got engaged at the Olympics!

Comment reply: I had no idea who they were till this morning, and now I can’t live without knowing what happens next!

Getting Frankie to stop laughing about the shirt I return home in is about as hard as herding kittens.

Nearly impossible.

In my hurry to leave West’s hotel room, I obviously got our shirts mixed up because I didn’t come home in the same oversized T-shirt I left in. Mine was an old worn out band shirt I’ve had since high school. This one is a West Parker UK tour shirt.

They look so similar… I’m just glad it doesn’t have his perfect face on it.

West’s scent clings to the fabric, drowning me in memories of our night together. I hadn’t paid attention to my shirt once while on the train home. I assumed smelling like West was because there hadn’t been an inch of my body he hadn’t explored.

Fuck, I’ve got to stop thinking about it eventually, right?

It's the newness of it all. It’s the bruises being fresh. It’s the fact that I haven’t showered and there’s definitely still remnants of him on me.

Frankie knew what she was doing when she got to my house early this morning and prepped her signature FrankieCakes—the best pancakes I’ve ever had in my life.

No, I’m not saying that because Frankie’s my best friend. I’ve tried to humble her and find better pancakes, but I can’t. Frankie is the Pancake Queen.

I let her ask questions until we’re done eating, and as expected, she grins her biggest, Frankiest smile, a small gap in her front teeth, when I tell her how many orgasms West gave me. “Told you so!”

When breakfast’s over, I send her $50. A deal’s a deal, and West was everything I thought he wouldn’t be and more.

“What are your plans for the day?” Frankie asks as she finishes washing the dishes. This house is old and in need of an upgrade, but rent is cheap, Hilda could be a worse neighbor, I’m more than comfortable here, and I’ve been saving for a house…

I should look for a job, but I’m fucking tired.

Monday. I’ll do it Monday.

Meaning, I have zero plans for the rest of the weekend. “Probably rot in bed and pay an ungodly amount of money to get Klines delivered.”

Klines is our favorite pizza place in the city. We used to eat it at least three times a week in college and are probably still two of the top twenty-five regulars the family-owned business sees weekly.

“Oh-ho-hoooo, count me in!” Frankie dries her hands on the towel hanging from the sink’s cabinet door, knowing she never needs an invite to stay. She knows me better than anyone and wouldn’t invite herself to stay if she felt like I needed some alone time.

I think it might be good for me to have someone around today, allowing my brain a distraction from the mind-blowing sex I had with a man nearly seven years younger than me…

“I need to shower before any real rotting begins though.” And I need to get out of this fucking shirt.

“Let me pee first!” Frankie darts off to the bathroom at the back of my apartment. I have two decent-sized bedrooms, but only one rather small bathroom. It works for me, and Frankie’s the only one who visits for the most part anyway. After returning from her last tour and moving out of the apartment she used to share with Sam, she’s actually been around a lot more.

Her relationship is over—it has been for a while, but I think she finally sees it. It’s just going to take her some time to kick the habit.

While she pees, I plug my phone into the charger by my bed. It died the second I made it to the train station, leaving me with nothing to do but think about the reason my muscles ache.