Chronicles of a Serial Dater - Book 4: A New Adult Romantic Comedy by Adele Huxley, Savan Robbins Page A

and neither of us knew how to find our way out.
    Anette stared at her feet, her words sweet but her tone still heated. “All you had to do was tell me. I would’ve understood.”
    She might’ve been trying to reach a hand out to me, but it felt far from genuine. “Right. Cause you’re so understanding right now.”
    “You lied to me!”
    I pointed a finger in her face, mostly to keep from slapping her. “How the hell do you figure, Anette? How exactly did I lie? Oh, by simply not sharing every damn detail of my life with you?” I shook my head sadly, chewed on a harsh comment, and rephrased it a little so it came out softer. “And you talking about honesty is hilarious. You can’t even admit to yourself how you feel about that girl in there. You don’t have the guts to.”
    She stuffed her hands in her pockets and glanced down the hall toward her bedroom. “That’s not what we’re talking about. You didn’t tell me…”
    “I didn’t have to tell you anything and I still don’t. This is my life. Again with the puppeteering. Let go of my damn strings!”
    “That’s the second time you’ve said that. Puppet strings? Are you kidding?”
    “It’s what it feels like!”
    “You were a puddle of depressed, Kevin-obsessed goop only a few months ago. Forgive me for wanting you to be happy.”
    “And forgive me for thinking I might be better at planning and living my own life than you,” I drawled sarcastically. “Exhibit A.” I pointed toward her room where her dream girl sat waiting.
    “So this is all part of your master plan? You can screw whoever you want but I apparently need your permission to get down with someone I like?”
    “ Whomever. ”
    “Are you seriously correcting my grammar right now?” Anette scoffed.
    A timid voice broke through our shouts somehow. “Anette? I think I’m gonna go.” Anette and I turned in unison to see Amie standing near the front door. She held her arm at the elbow and smiled apologetically.
    Anette circled the sofa quickly, her voice softening instantly. “No! No, you don’t have to do that. It’s fine. We’re just working out roommate stuff.”
    “Roommate,” she repeated, looking over to me. “Sounds a little more serious than who hasn’t been doing dishes.”
    I realized she might’ve misconstrued our conversation. “It’s complicated,” I started to say before Anette shot me a death glare.
    “Amie. Boo. Why don’t we both go to bed? We can talk about it in there.”
    She shook her head and stepped around Anette’s advances. “I don’t think so. Sorry. Have a good night.”
    Anette stared at the closed door for a few moments after she left. With a momentary melting of my anger, I softly spoke up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
    She wheeled around on me, her expression contorted with fury. “You’re sorry? Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to get that girl back here and because of you…”
    “Because of me? I’m not the one who picked a fight!”
    She pressed her lips together in a frown. “You’re absolutely right, of course. You’re just the one fucking Zach and telling the whole world except your best friend and roommate. I’m obviously the one at fault here.”
    “You know, you think you’re such a playa? That you’re just running around playing the game?” I asked, throwing air quotes up at the last part. “You’re not sexually liberated. You’re terrified. You use sex as a way of keeping your emotions locked away, hiding behind random hookups with men you know you’ll never develop feelings for.”
    “And what about her?” she spat, pointing at the front door. “You know I’m into her.”
    “Which is why you should be on your knees thanking me for scaring her off. You were about to turn a girl you actually care about into a one-night-stand you wouldn’t be able to recover from.”
    “No, instead I didn’t get to have sex with her and she thinks she just caught us in some lover’s spat. And if I