Free Dirty Sex by Ashley Bartlett Page B

educational than the soap operas in English?” Reese
    offered in place of an actual reason. “You want some wine?” Her tone
    was really flat. Actually, everything she was saying was kind of lacking
    emotion. “We can open another bottle.”
    Was this some sort of an olive branch?
    “Are you okay? You seem a little out of it.”
    “I’m fine.” She drained the remaining wine in her glass and set it
    on the table.
    I studied her from my upside down position. Her eyes were a little
    red and puffy and she was frowning at the TV. She didn’t seem stoned,
    but it was that or crying.
    “Are you stoned?”
    “No.”
    “Then why were you crying?”
    A self-deprecating smirk grew across those full lips. “I hate how
    you know me.” I waited for an answer. “Kerry broke up with me.”
    “What?” I pushed myself upright. “Why? What’s wrong with her?
    She doesn’t like sexy, smart chicks?” Reese and I might have hated
    each other, but that didn’t mean other people could be mean to her.
    “Thanks.”
    “You know what? We need a real drink. I’m breaking into
    Christopher’s liquor cabinet. And then, peanut butter, you can tell me
    all the disgusting, invasive, embarrassing details.”
    Reese flashed a real smile, only for a second. “I’ll have—”
    “Scotch. Neat. Give me a little credit.” I went downstairs and
    returned five minutes later with an unopened bottle and two heavy
    crystal glasses.
    • 67 •

    AShley BArtlett
    “He’s going to kill you if you open that,” Reese said.
    “I know.” I studied the bottle. “Damn, it’s like older than me.” With
    that, I opened it. I wasn’t a complete idiot. I knew that Christopher was
    going to be livid and I also knew he would get over it. Most importantly
    though, I knew I was a bit of a snob. It was the result of only drinking
    Christopher’s liquor growing up. He shouldn’t have kept such a nice
    supply if he didn’t want us to consume it.
    “I’m blaming that on you.”
    “Blame it on Kerry.” I poured the deep gold liquid and handed
    Reese hers.
    “Fuck Kerry.”
    “Charming, darlin’. You want to tell me what happened?” I settled
    across from her on the arm of the couch.
    “No, I want to get drunk and watch telenovelas.”
    “Good. Constructive.”
    “Don’t start. It’s your fault anyway.” Reese took a healthy
    swig. The glare she shot across the glass had just the right amount of
    authenticity.
    “That’s a damn good single malt. Please don’t chug it.” More
    glaring. “How could Kerry dumping your ass be my fault?”
    “She thought we were hooking up.” Distractedly, she pointed back
    and forth between us.
    I nearly spit a mouthful of booze. “Huh?”
    “I wouldn’t tell her why I smacked you. Somehow that equated
    to…” Reese waved her hand in the air vaguely.
    “I’m sorry.”
    “It’s her problem. If she trusted me, it wouldn’t have mattered. No,
    if I trusted her enough to tell her, it wouldn’t have mattered. Anyway,
    it’s over.”
    “I’m sorry about what I said. And did.” It took balls for me to say
    that, so when it came out, my voice was barely a whisper.
    “How much of what you said was true?” There was an attempt at
    her previous nonchalance that just came off harsh and cold.
    We both should have had a lot more booze. I tried to answer, but I
    blushed instead. That was a first.
    “I thought you were screwing with me.” There was something
    resigned in her eyes that made my clit shrink and my stomach turn.
    • 68 •

    Dirty Sex
    “Oh come on, Reese. You’re fucking beautiful.” As if hormones
    could explain my behavior.
    “It was dark. You couldn’t see shit.” Damn, she had a point. Still,
    I was surprised when she set down her glass and went for the stairs.
    “Whoa, hey.” I ditched my scotch and rushed to block her way.
    “Where you going?”
    “Somewhere else.”
    “How long are you going to be mad at me?”
    “It’s you, so I’ll probably hold the grudge