Chasing You

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

GrahamRather than stew over the skid marks Lola scorched into the hotel carpet, I called my best friend, Jonah, to check on his sorry a*s.

Jonah’s girlfriend was pregnant, and he wasn’t sure the baby was his. Pretty sorry business if you asked me, but my friend was in love—crazy, turn-down-a-New-Year’s-screw-with-a-hot-girl love.

Jonah had stormed out of the New Year’s Eve party in a shitty mood, and I figured I could at least make sure the guy hadn’t done something stupid—like drunk dial the woman or go all John Cusack in Say Anything.

We agreed to meet for a late lunch at a greasy diner near downtown. Maybe the fat would soak up the alcohol that left my mouth dry and my head with a low-pulsing pound.

Jonah was already seated in a bright red, vinyl booth, with water and coffee. Red, white, and grey tile covered nearly every surface of the restaurant, no doubt because it would be easy to scrub the place clean in the event they decided to do so.

The lingering smell of fried everything hung in the air, and my nose scrunched. “Nice pick.”

“Look at this.” Jonah pointed to the menu. “Hash browns covered in nacho cheese and bacon. That’s New Year’s Day food.”

I slipped into the booth. “If you say so. How’re you doing this morning?”

“Okay, actually.”

His upbeat tone scared me. “Did you talk to Shannon?”

“Not yet. But I will. I want to work things out with her.”

Forgiving a woman for cheating on me? And maybe getting pregnant with another man’s baby? I couldn’t do it. Ever. But my friend looked happy. Excited, even.

Telling him to snap out of it lingered on my tongue.

Jonah sipped his coffee. “Whatever you have to say. Save it. I don’t need advice.”

“If you’re sure…do what you’ve got to do.”

“Thank you.”

“Look, it’s your life. I hope it works out.”

I knew when a cause was lost.

Jonah grinned. “Thanks, man.”

The waitress headed over with another glass of water. “Let me figure out what I’m going to eat.”

After we ordered our breakfasts of cholesterol and sodium, Jonah pressed me for the details of my evening. I recounted what I could remember with the tone of a kid who had eaten his favorite cookie but was mad he couldn’t have another.

“All in all, it was a good evening, I guess. She was smokin’ hot.”

“Did you get any details?”

“I was trying to remember. I think she said her name was Lola.”

Jonah laughed himself breathless. “Really? Lola?”

I shrugged. “That’s what she said.”

“Glad you had a good time with Lola.” Jonah capped off his snide tone with air quotes around the name.

“That I did. Even if she was kind of a witch this morning. Jesus, she was hot.” I pounded my fists lightly on the table.

“You mentioned that.” His friend’s words were as parched as my throat.

I took a long sip of ice water. “I wonder how she got her invite?”

Someone must know who she was. I could probably find her on social media. Pictures from the party were already filling up my newsfeeds.

“Who cares?”

“No one. I’m just curious. Maybe you’re right. Maybe her name isn’t Lola.”

“Of course it isn’t. No one’s been named Lola since the 1920s. Was she eighty?” Jonah snickered.

“Screw you. I’m being the good guy. All supportive and s**t, and you’re busting my balls.”

“Sounds like that already happened this morning. Did she take them with her in her purse?”

I nearly popped back that Jonah was one to talk, but didn’t want to needle my friend. Jonah’s situation was serious, but mine wasn’t.

“I have to admit. I wouldn’t mind getting another taste of that.”

“Dude, it doesn’t sound like she’s interested in a repeat.”

“You didn’t hear her moaning all night.”

Jonah faked a gagging reflex. “Thank God. I don’t need images of you humping in my brain.”

“You might learn something.”

“Doubtful. You going to track her down or what?”

“Not necessarily. I may see if we have mutual friends online.”

The faux casual high pitch in my own voice made me cringe—as did the smug, mocking look in Jonah’s eyes.

I didn’t necessarily care if I saw “Lola” again, but if I could track her down, I’d take another run at her. The night was fun. She was Maxim Hot 100 hot. And I knew I could make her wish she’d stayed for room-service breakfast and b****y Marys.

I sniffed again at the pungent odor of hot grease permeating the diner.

I already wished she had.