friendship remains as solid as ever, without any of the usual
not to look pointedly at the bowl of cereal I’m eating. Of
course we have freaking milk.
and she’s got deep dimples in each cheek. Cute. I can see
why Ben likes this one.
I see the fact that she has airhead monogrammed on the butt
of her baby blue sweatpants. Really? Really?
instead pulls out one of the cans of Starbucks iced coffee
that I keep stocked for Monday mornings when I need an
extra pick-me-up, which is every Monday, because, well,
Mondays are just the worst, aren’t they?
I guess is kind of annoying, but I’ve never really been one of
those girls who likes to waste energy getting bitchy about
stupid things, so I let it go.
impressive streak of one-night stands, dating seems sort of a
presumptuous word choice, because how does she know I’m
not just a onetime sleepover guest like her?
drunk and sleep with a guy you barely know, like I just did?
wearing my oldest pajamas and haven’t even pretended to
have tried to take off last night’s mascara, which is now all
over my face. I’m pretty sure I don’t look threatening.
beverage, and her previously curious expression turns wary.
advantage by avoiding female pronouns when referring to his
roommate while a booty call is in progress. He picked up this
approach after several hookups that failed due to the fact that
some girls still subscribe to the old
style of his girl toy’s, although his are dark UO green, and
instead of a tacky phrase on the back, they just have the
Oregon Duck, our old college mascot. We graduated a
couple years ago, so the frat-boy attire’s a little sad, but
I can’t judge him too harshly since my entire workout wardrobe
consists of old college shirts.
Parker, Parker, Liz.”
look or he no longer cares now that he’s gotten laid.
thinking about Ben in a romantic light: He’s kind of a player.
As a friend, I can love him for it, but on the romantic front?
Never. Ever. Not even with every possible STD test.
rule?” I ask, shoveling another bite of increasingly soggy
Wheat Chex into my mouth.
Airhead. Her expression softens lightly, and I resist the urge
to slap a little sense into the poor girl. I want to tell her that
his winks are a dime a dozen, but what’s the point? She has
airhead printed on her sweatpants for God’s sake.
“House rule number fourteen. Speaking of which, where are
my house rules?”
meager offerings before pouring a cup of coffee instead. “But
I may have used them to mop up OJ the other day. Or maybe
as a coaster for my beer.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh wait,
no, I remember. I just plain threw them out the old-fashioned way.”
on display. We have to give her anti-swoon pills.”
though she’s trying to determine whether I really will swoon
over Ben’s admittedly impressive upper body. The guy’s like
a machine. He misses workouts only on the worst of his
Bestselling author of contemporary romance.
and web-marketing. In 2011, she and her husband moved
from Seattle to New York City, where Lauren decided to
pursue a full-time writing career. It took six months to get her
first book deal (despite ardent assurances to her husband
that it would only take three). Since then, Lauren's gone on to
publish ten books, including the bestselling Stiletto series,
with several more on the way in 2015.
spoiled Pomeranian. When not writing, you'll find her at
happy hour, running at a doggedly slow pace, or trying to
straighten her naturally curly hair.