Free Stubborn Love by Wendy Owens Page B

flashed through my mind of how great he looked, but then I remembered all of his annoying little comments, and eagerly pushed any notion of him from my aching head.
    “It’s because you got home after me. Nobody ever gets in after me. So does that mean there was a walk of shame this morning?” Paige asked, sitting up and rubbing her hands together like she was waiting for something juicy and delicious.
    “No,” I mumbled with a full mouth, lowering my eyebrows in disgust.
    “Oh, come on, roommate code, you have to give me all the dirty details, same as I have to give you all of mine,” Paige informed me.
    I swallowed and then smiled before explaining, “I don’t want to know all your dirty details. Besides, I doubt I could handle them anyway, knowing you.”
    “Hey!” she started. “No, you’re probably right. Christian and I can get very naughty.”
    “Agh! Gross. Stop! Please no more,” I begged, lifting my shoulders up to block my ears from the offensive information.
    “Fine, but I still want my half of roommate gossip. Was he fantastic in bed? A long schlong?” Paige’s lips twisted into an evil curl at the ends, her eyes never leaving me.
    I reached down with a free hand, grabbed a throw pillow from the floor, and launched it at her head. She caught it in the air, hugging it close to her body as she began laughing wildly. “You’re terrible,” I informed her.
    “So it was tiny?” she continued.
    “Oh my God, no, nothing happened,” I insisted, continuing to eat my cereal.
    “No, I don’t accept that. There is no way you were out that late in that dress and nothing happened,” Paige argued. “Spill it.”
    Oddly enough, there was something comforting in the idea of discussing it—something even more comforting in the idea of having a girlfriend. I hadn’t had a real girlfriend since Laney. When I started seeing Ashton I inherited all of his friends, but they were always clearly loyal to him.
    “Honestly? It started off pretty good. He took me to this great restaurant in Midtown,” I began to retell the evening’s events.
    “Ooh! Where did you go?” Paige asked, absolutely panting with anticipation, savoring every detail.
    “Some place called Gilt,” I replied, remembering how impressed I was with the location and decor.
    “Are you fucking serious?”
    “Umm—yeah, I mean, I think that’s what it was called,” I said, doubting my memory.
    “That place is so expensive and posh! This guy must be loaded.” Paige looked like she might leap from her seat with each piece of information I gave her.
    “I don’t know—maybe—he’s some sort of investigator,” I added.
    “Well then he must have some dirt on some pretty powerful people,” she suggested, giggling.
    I smiled, “I doubt it’s anything like that.”
    “If a guy took me to a place like that I would totally jump his bones,” Paige informed me.
    I gave her a disapproving look before reminding her of the boyfriend who she could barely detach her lips from. “I bet Christian would love to hear you say that.”
    “Maybe he should take me to some nicer places.”
    “Let’s just say the restaurant was great, but the company, not so much,” I offered, wanting to make sure she understood the evening was not as dreamy as she seemed to be imagining.
    “What happened?”
    “When we got there he had already ordered for us ahead of time. He told me he had asked the chef to prepare something special. At the time I was kind of amazed, but now, looking back on it, it was really annoying. The food was great, but it would have been nice if he had let me pick for myself,” I explained.
    “That doesn’t sound like too terrible of an offense,” Paige argued.
    “Oh, just wait. So by like the millionth course he had had enough to drink to put down a buffalo, and he started talking about himself in the third person.”
    “No! He didn’t!” she exclaimed.
    “Yup! And it gets worse; he calls himself by his last name, which is