A Betting Man

Chapter Seventeen

Adelaide's Point of View

Sundays are always lazy.

After laying awake for nearly two hours last night, too caught up on an emotional roller-coaster to rest, I manage to sleep in until eleven o'clock. When I wake, I'm still exhausted, a weakness overcome only by two cups of coffee, each with double cream, double sugar. I vaguely wonder what Justin would think of my nutritious breakfast beverage and then berate myself for even thinking his opinion matters.

Because he said no. No. The nerve.

I'd made quick work of leaving after that happened. I pretended like it didn't matter, forcing a calm tone to my voice, but Justin saw straight through it. What was it he'd said?

Oh, yes. "It's complicated, Addie," and "Things are just moving kind of fast for me right now." He seemed to really want me to understand; he just didn't have the words.

I wish I knew what he was thinking; his constant mood swings are sure to give me whiplash. Why, if he is so eager to win this bet, is he suddenly becoming skittish about this one thing? He allowed me to go to dinner with his parents for fuck's sake. Shouldn't that have been worse in comparison? It seems as though he should be ready to conquer anything now.

Perhaps he's given up. That's pretty likely – I have pushed his buttons quite a few times. I'd thought for sure that the dinner would push him over the edge, and now that I think about it, maybe it has. And he never gave me any indication that he would call me again, after all.

I mull over this as I take my shower. The fact that I may never see him again is actually a little depressing. Despite what I know about him, I like him. I really, really like him. But why?

Fey would have me lynched if she knew. She must never find out. She'd probably try to hook me up with that computer technician from her work she's been threatening me with. What's his name? Eric? She'd even given me a running commentary of what our first date would be like, beginning with, "Baby, you make my floppy disc turn into a hard drive," and "What do you say we go back to my room and do some math: add a bed, subtract your clothes, divide your legs, and multiply."

As you can imagine, I was sent running for the hills, Fey's mad cackles echoing manically in my wake.

Yes, she must never, ever find out. I put off calling her, knowing she will insist I finally call him out on everything since he's not accompanying me to the wedding. As pathetic as it is, I'm just not ready to completely sever ties with him. I need to think about everything, but first, I need a mental vacation. I need a day to clear my mind. Surely this is just a phase I'm going through – surely I'm just enraptured by his beautiful eyes and gorgeous bum. And his passionate kisses. And his teasing. God, how I love his teasing... and he actually handled the dinner with a surprising amount of grace. I expected an Armageddon, or perhaps the second sinking of the Titanic. I expected a catastrophe.

I need a distraction. Luckily, I don't have to search far. Yasmine calls me just as I'm getting dressed to catch up – I haven't spoken to her in over a week.

"Have you gotten a dress to wear to the wedding yet?" she asks me. She knows me well enough to know I don't already own one.

"Not exactly...but I already know where I'm gonna buy it and everything!" I uselessly assure her. She knows it's all bullshit.

"That's bullshit, Addie. Why don't you meet me at Starbucks in half an hour – we'll fill our tanks and pick something out."

Dress shopping doesn't sound fun. In fact, it sounds downright horrendous—just one shot of espresso short of torture—but it's the distraction I need. Without further persuasion, I agree.