Lie To Me by J.D. Fondry

Author:J.D. Fondry [Fondry, J.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-19T16:00:00+00:00

We stroll into the restaurant, Sterling a pace in front as I admire her juicy fucking ass I had my face between only hours ago. My dick stirs in my jeans and I force myself to look away. The only thing that could make this situation worse is having to sit through it with a painful chubby.

“You two are so dang cute,” Sterling muses, sliding into the booth first, to sit opposite her petite little silver-haired friend. “Aren’t they so cute?”

She looks at me, expectant, and I know what she’s doing. She’s saying ‘Look how he shows her affection in public. Take notes.’ Without actually saying it.

I give a noncommittal nod and grumble as I take my seat next to her—I don’t take the bait in this moment. I can only focus on one thing at a time, not digging myself out of a hole I wasn’t aware I was already in.

Palmer reaches across the table and we bump fists.

“Sup, man?” He nods my way.

He looks just as miserable as me and I can sense the pleading look masked behind his lovesick eyes.

“Livin’ the dream,” I reply dryly, just as the waitress gets to our table to relieve me of talking further and takes my drink order. I hear 5 Seconds of Summer crooning from the jukebox behind me.

Guess they ended up fixin’ that shit with the money I tossed at ’em.

I truly did feel bad about it the next day, so I stopped by and left a grand in the mailbox with the note simply stating ‘Jukebox,’ secured to it with a paper clip. I had no idea what a thing like that costs, so I was praying it covered it.

Sounds like it might have, and I’m glad they ended up taking it.

I notice the girls are motormouths when you get them together. I’m sweating just sitting back and watching the exchange. How can women see each other so often and still have so much to talk about? Do they make lists? Talking points? How do they even remember it all?

My brain hurts just thinking about it.

Eventually, Sterling decides to remember there’s other people at the table and begins to ask Palmer about his shop and how the cleanup is going. I instantly feel guilt. I haven’t had a spare moment this last week and a half to help out. I know that makes me a shit friend, for more than one reason, but I’ve been a little preoccupied with my own shop. Along with other things.

Like buryin’ myself in Sterling’s pussy.

“Y’all catch the bastard who done it yet?” I toss in, attempting to join the conversation like a normal person since I have yet to utter much of anything resembling conversation since we arrived.

The moment the words breach past my lips I know it was the wrong thing to ask.

Palmer’s body across the table from mine goes rigid. It’s hardly noticeable, but I notice everything.

Fuck.

I know what he’s thinking. How does he know that?

Well, shit.

Good fuckin’ question.

This damn sure isn’t the time or place for that conversation.

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