She tilts her head and bats her eyelashes at me. “You two looked cute together in all of your pictures. Like you love just being near each other. Very wholesome.”

“Oh,” I breathe with a smile.

“Apparently, wholesome makes me wet. Who knew?”

I choke on my drink, and Jourdan sips hers, watching me with a smile. “Your turn,” she says when I stop gasping for air.

“You’re beautiful,” I admit, too out of sorts to think of anything more complex. It’s not a lie.

She rolls her eyes. “Men always say that like it’s an answer. Give me your phone.”

“Wh-what?”

She’s taking another sip of coffee and just offers her hand to me, palm up. I hesitate for a second, but in the end, I do what she says. As soon as I unlock my phone and place it in her palm, she snatches it away, scrolling with her perfectly painted, long, bright red nails.

I squirm in my seat, imagining them scratching down my spine.

“Awww, you have her in your phone as ‘Wife.’”

My face heats, and I feel foolish. I’m too fucking old to feel foolish about a young girl.

“Will you put me in as your Girlfriend? Or Pussy on the Side?” She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “POS. Don’t like it. Cunt in the Corner?”

I groan. This is moving too fast, right?

She puts the phone on speaker, and Nadia picks up. “Everything okay? Did you meet her? Are you at the right Brews Crews?”

“Um,” I start.

Jourdan cuts me off. “We met,” she purrs.

I swear Nadia sighs at the sound of her voice. Very relatable.

“Don’t worry. He’s being a perfect gentleman.”

Nadia clucks her tongue.

I splutter, “What?”

“Don’t hold that against him,” Nadia says.

“Hold that— What does that mean? We just met. Am I supposed to take her to the bathroom and fuck her before the ice melts in her drink?”

I realize how loud I’m speaking after I’ve said all that. I definitely shouldn’t have said all that out loud.

Jourdan, however, is beaming at me and pressing her drink against her chest, circling right around where I think her nipple will be.

I curse and tear my eyes away from her chest — where I really shouldn’t be looking, anyway — and look at her face. Her straw is still between her lips, but she’s not drinking. Her tongue is lapping slowly at the plastic, and she’s watching me hungrily.

“Can he do that?” she whispers in a voice thick with lust and longing.

“Jesus,” I groan.