A Tiny Favour

Chapter 12

I regret giving Ethan my address everyday but now more than ever. From the second he stepped in he told me he smelt a female and checked every square inch of my place to see if I'd hidden a hook up.

But like I've told him, and myself, those days are behind me. One girl, Addison, had been the wake up call I needed when she thought she was pregnant after one of our flings. Thank god she wasn't either of us were ready to be parents and we didn't get along and shared no interests.

Much like the women of that regretful year were girls I knew I had no future with and that's why it made things so easy. Neither of us wanted commitment and knew we would never make one another happy.

Isabella is something I'd look for in one night of fun. Her hair and minimal makeup that she wouldn't be worried about if it got messed up. The little curves in her small frame that made my eyes linger and it nearly impossible to move them away when she had squatted today. And the challenge in every single sentence she said today, her saying 'if I wanted to I could leave you wanting nothing more than my company' she could. If I didn't try first.

I pop open a can of flavoured carbonated water with a sly grin at the memory. "Bro you look so happy," Ethan looks me up and down. "Who are you and what have you done to Adam?"

I snort at his joke and sip at my drink. Ethan isn't so much a friend but more of a guy I should stay on decent terms with. He's in two of my classes this semester and we do some assignments together but he gets the impression we're best friends. We aren't.

"I'm here," my face goes neutral as I put my can to the side, "what are you doing here?" I ask, turning to the real important discussion.

"I need a wingman," he states, pressing his palms together and angling his hands at me, "there's a big social event tonight and roomers are the girls are going to be so fine," he leans his head back in moans.

What's this guy's problem, my entire face reads disgust like that wasn't me at some point. Now I want one relationship, or none, no in between or friends with benefits shit. "No," I tell him plain and simple. I'm not watching sweating guys hit on women so out of their league and then go crazy when she turns them down.

"Twenty bucks."

"Fifty," I lean in upping the price of my assistance. He won't pay up and I feel fine with my decision to make it an option.

"Deal," his answer surprises me and he takes out two twenties and a ten. "A few hours and you just have to make it seem like a good time".

"Sounds like an impossible mission,'' I cock my head to one side and laugh at my own joke. He just glares at me, angry and frustrated with the comment that's the truth.

"So it's at this-," I cut him off by putting my hand up in his face to silence him. If I know what a landfill the place is I'll probably throw him out and keep the money, and recommend a tetanus shot.

"I don't want to know just text me the address," I instructed, downing the rest of my drink in a few gulps. The bubbles sting the back of my head but not in the same way scotch would.

Ehtan doesn't leave but instead takes the spot that Isabella was just a few hours ago. I can still see her sprawled out her chest rising and falling with each breath. I can't believe she slept for that long. It must have been getting up at that time on a Sunday, she likely didn't go to sleep until the early hours of the morning.

The image of her downing shots in a small party dress with men around a bar to stare makes me jealous. I don't know her but I do know her body would be highly desirable by horny college students.

My entire body tightens with the idea.

I move to the floor and extend both legs in a straddle and reach to one of my feet to stretch. Ethan goes on to an extensive speech about the bar not having the right booze he wanted and not knowing how to make a certain beverage. I turned him out and switched on the TV to the food network where Gordon Ramsay yells at a middle aged man for spicing a tenderloin wrong. The chef is infamous for being the harsh British cook that yells at contestants on his shows.