He laughed. “I’m the king of advice, what can I say?”
“Aw, you two kids bonding?” Lisa said entering the room again. “Oh and Wes, Kiersten needed help with finding the cooking spray for the pan.”
He snapped his fingers. “That was it.”
Lisa’s eyes narrowed. “Sometimes I wonder about you.”
I took a sip of soda.
“It’s the drugs,” he said in a serious voice, causing me to choke on the leftover Diet Pepsi in my mouth.
“He means the good ones,” Lisa added.
I looked between them.
“Legal drugs,” Wes explained. “To keep me healthy. Just in case cancer tries to come back and make me its bitch.”
“R-right.” My voice was hoarse from choking.
Wes smiled that same blinding smile that belonged on every freaking billboard in America and pushed to his feet. “Alright ,ladies, have fun with your pizza party. I’m going to go help my fiancée in the kitchen.”
“Kissing her and trying to make her wear the sexy apron isn’t helping!” Lisa shouted after him.
“A guy can try!” he yelled back.
The minute the door shut behind him Lisa’s gaze narrowed in on me. “What did Wes want?”
“Uh, to give me advice.”
“He should have majored in Psychology.” She shook her head.
“Yeah, that or modeling.”
Snorting, Lisa tossed a piece of sausage in her mouth, “Ain’t that the truth. Alright, let’s finish writing up our stupid reports from the past four weeks so we can watch crap reality TV.”
“Deal.” I pulled out my computer and started typing.
Three hours later and we were halfway through the first season of New Girl. Every time the door opened my heart sped up a bit — hoping to catch a glimpse of Gabe. Lisa said they hung out twenty-four seven.
Just as we were starting the second season, the door flew open and Gabe strolled in, his eyes focused on a box in his hands. “Lisa, it’s time for you to dye my hair again. It’s already lightning up and I’m getting strange looks from—”
Lisa cleared her throat.
Gabe looked up.
“Hi.” I waved from the couch. Lame. I should have at least smiled brighter, but I was too busy being completely affected by his proximity and a bit confused as to why he needed to dye his hair — as if he was keeping it dark for a reason.
A muscle clenched in his jaw. “Hey.”
“He gets gray hair,” Lisa explained.
“What?” he roared.
“And old ladies hit on him.” She examined her nails. “Pisses him off, so he makes me dye it. Isn’t that right, Gabe?” She smiled brightly while he glowered at her like she’d just kicked him in the balls and said you’re welcome.
“Right. I’m a cougar magnet.”
“Cool.” I fought a smile. “So why do you dye it darker? Why not go blond or something?”