The Lying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag Book 5)

by Sara Ney

  “Can we stop talking about balls? Gross. Stop.”

  “Oh, that’s the topic that makes you uncomfortable? Balls?” She is unbelievable.

  “Yes. Let’s move on—tell me more about the sex with the hot wrestler.”

  “You think Abe is hot?”

  “Uh, yeah—duh. I can’t believe he’s still on the market with those eyes and those shoulders. Rawr.” She sees the blank expression on my face and stops. “Sorry.”

  “Know what you should do, Hannah?”

  “No, but I bet you’re going to tell me.”

  “Take some of your own advice. Download the stupid LoveU app and find someone to…” I search for a metaphor. “Fill your tank.”

  Her lip curls. “Seriously, Skylar? My tank? There’s a visual I could have done without.”

  Pfft. “This is a conversation I could have done without, but you left me no choice.”

  “Oh god, you knew damn well I was going to pounce on you the minute you walked through the door, so don’t act surprised. You’re my best friend—it’s my job.” Hannah spreads her arms wide. “I don’t see Jessica or Bethany lining up to hear the gritty details.”I push her legs off me and stand. “Thank God for that. They can’t keep secrets.”

  “Don’t you walk away from me, young lady! We’re not done here. Come fill my tank! With stories! Come fill my love tank with stories. Pleeeeeeease…”

  I laugh all the way to the kitchen, setting my bowl on the counter next to the sink. “Keep it down in there. You want Nathan and Misty to call the office on us?” Again. “One of these days, your loud screeching is going to get us evicted.”

  “We can live with JB and Abe—that dude has the hots for me so bad.”

  “JB?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  I can see that. Hannah seems more like his type: flashy, outgoing, with light blonde hair and fire on her tongue and in her brown eyes. She’s beautiful, lively, and sexy.

  And hard up.

  “Why don’t you hit him up to fill your love tank?”

  “I don’t want or need a hump and dump from some random dude, okay? My ego couldn’t take it. I want to screw someone who’s going to at least call me the next day so I can block his number.”

  I return to the couch, sitting cross-legged in the corner. “Here’s a thought: maybe you should try getting to know someone first.”

  “Stop.” Her palm is raised, halting my speech. “Now you sound like me. Plus, you know I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”

  “I know you’re not looking, but what if one finds you?”

  “Not into it.” Her tone is dismissive, and now she’s actively ignoring me. Or pretending to. “No longer listening,” she sing-songs, focused on a magazine.

  “Giant penis.”

  The magazine gets tossed to the carpet as Hannah flies off the couch. “I knew it! I knew he had a huge penis!”

  “All I said was giant penis. You need to calm down and rein in the vocal stylings.”

  I’m laughing, she’s laughing—we’re so loud there is no doubt we’ll be getting a phone call from the property management to give us yet another noise warning. We simply cannot contain ourselves.

  Hannah is hilarious.

  “If I didn’t know any better,” I say after I can breathe again, “I’d think all you’re doing is trying to use different words for a dick in one evening.”

  “I have a list. It’s very much coming in handy right now, I must say.”

  “Why the hell do you have a list of alternatives for the word dick?”

  She fluffs her hair. “I’m going to write a romance novel one of these days. It’s on my bucket list, and you can’t keep using the same name over and over for peen. It has to be different. And you can’t call it a man sword, or a shaft. That’s gross—readers would hate that.”

  I’m at a loss for words myself here. “Uhhh…”

  “I have other lists, too. Like for sex, and your downtown lady business. And a huge list of curse words.” Hannah sighs, content. “I love the internet. Did you know there are entire videos online listing profanity? You can spend hours doing that.”

  “And you’ve spent hours doing that?”

  “Just once, when it was raining.” Rain. As if that’s a valid reason for blowing an entire day watching YouTube videos. “Anyway, I have a folder filled with words. You can borrow it whenever.”

  We have gotten so off topic, my head is spinning. “I’m going to bed.”

  “Fine. But I’m not letting you off the hook—we’re going to finish this conversation later.”

  My back hits my bedroom door and I lean on it, biting back a smile. Hannah might be nosey, outspoken, and inappropriate, but she’s also the best best friend anyone could ask for. So, when she brings Abe up again, I’ll give her all the dirty details she wants.

  But for now, they’re mine.

  All mine.

  Abe: Thinkin bout you. What are you up to?

  Me: I just climbed in bed. Hannah and I were talking.

  Abe: About us? Haha.

  Me: Yes, actually.

  Abe: So she knows?

  Me: Yeah, she knows. She won’t say anything to anyone though. I trust her. What about JB?

  Abe: No, he didn’t come home this morning until we had to leave for practice.

  Me: He spent the night next door?! Whoa. Rachel really pulled through. I wonder what favor she’ll call in.

  Abe: I don’t even want to think about it. You girls scare me.

  Me: Do I scare you?

  Abe: Uh, yeah—you’re kind of dirty and mean in bed.

  Me: MEAN?! How am I MEAN?

  Abe: Not letting me come?

  Abe: Cum, I mean.

  Me: No need to be grammatically correct; I knew what you meant.

  Me: And I’m sorry about making you wait, but I feel that since it had been so long since I had an orgasm, I deserved it. LOL I know that sounds so awful.

  Abe: It’s been a long time for me, too.

  Me: And JB has no idea?

  Abe: Nope.

  Me: Well…there’s going to be a point where he finds out. What then?

  Abe: No idea. I’ll figure something out.

  Me: Can you do it soon? If I have to spend the rest of my life climbing in and out of your bedroom window, I’m out. Sorry. It’s fun the first few times but the novelty will wear off, trust me.

  Abe: I know—I’ll tell him.

  Me: Should we do it together?

  Abe: No. I was thinking I should wait until he starts seeing someone? Maybe then he won’t care.

  Me: I don’t see why he cares NOW. He does not like me.

  Abe: It’s a guy thing. He’d get jealous. Territorial. Like he peed on you already.

  Me: That’s so stupid.

  Abe: **shrugs**

  Me: What are you up to this weekend?

  Abe: I have a meet tomorrow.

  Me: Where?

  Abe: Here.

  Abe: Hello?

  Abe: Are you there?

  Me: I’m here. I’m waiting for you to invite me.

  Abe: Really? You’d want to come?

  Me: What kind of a question is that?

  Abe: Wow. Okay, this is awesome. It’s on Saturday.

  Me: When does it start?

  Abe: Eleven.

  Me: I will see you there.

  Abe: There are going to be tons of people because we’re wrestling Penn State. It’s a big deal.

  Me: Are you telling me to get there early, or are you telling me you’re not going to see me?

  Abe: Both.

  Abe: But I’ll find you.

  Abe: There’s a student section, but sit on the north side when you come in, with the parents. It’ll be easier to spot you.

  Me: Uh…which side is the north side? Help a girl out with directions.

  Abe: When you come in the main doors, hang a right, wrap all the way around, and go in through the north entrance. There’s a big sign above those doors.

/>   Me: Gotcha. Will your parents be there?

  Abe: No, you’re off the hook.

  Me: Thank God—we’ve only been on one date.

  Abe: I’d still introduce you if they were coming.

  Me: As what?

  Abe: As my girlfriend?

  Me: **blushes**

  Abe: Cool?

  Me: Yes.

  Abe

  I was right when I told Skylar the stadium would be packed. Penn State always draws a massive crowd every year, but this is insane. It’s loud and chaotic as fans find their seats, the student section at capacity and the parent section filling up fast.

  I stand in my warm-ups, eyes scanning that part of the auditorium for Skylar’s familiar brown hair and cute little ass.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t lie to me, dipshit. Do we need another pep talk? Is this about that girl again?” Zeke Daniels gets in my face, all up in my personal space, lips drawn tight. “We went over this—did you not follow directions?”

  “Yeah, I followed directions.” I don’t elaborate, bending to re-tie my shoe so I’m not forced to stare back at him.

  He taps his sneaker. “And?”

  “And it worked out, just like Violet said.”

  “So I was right.”

  Jesus. “Violet was.”

  “But also me.”

  “Whatever.” I huff. “Fine, yes, you were right.”

  “And?”

  “And…what?”

  “Why are you staring off into the goddamn crowd?”

  I’m silent, working on the laces of my other shoe.

  “Ohhh, I get it,” Daniels sing-songs. “She’s coming today, isn’t she?” I don’t reply, so he keeps talking. “Are you ready to throw up? Is it making you nervous?”

  “Would you shut up?”

  “I can’t. I’m basically your matchmaker now.”

  “No you’re not.”

  “Yes I am. Without me, she wouldn’t have gone out with you again.”

  That’s probably true, but he’s annoying and I’ll never admit it to him. I just want him to walk away and leave me in peace so I can warm up and watch for Skylar.

  “Does dickweed know yet?”

  “Who?”

  “Jack,” Zeke grits out impatiently. “JB, whatever the fuck you guys call him. Bartlett. Does he know you’re boning his online girlfriend?”

  “No.”

  “Well now you have another host of problems, don’t ya?” He looks smug and arrogant and oddly pleased at this new development in the saga. “You need my help.”

  It’s not a question, but he’s looking way too hopeful for my taste.

  “No!” I shake my head vigorously, the entire match I have ahead of me forgotten by the pair of us. “No. Fuck no. No way.”

  Zeke examines his fingernails. “False. I think you do need my help.”

  “Can we not do this now?” I’m worse off than I was five minutes ago, preparing to face off against our biggest rival in the conference. “This isn’t helping.”

  “Your head is lodged so far up your ass anyway—I was sent over to remove it, by the way. Now that we know you’re still having lady problems, let’s fix it together. I’m into it.”

  “We’re not in this together.”

  His mouth says, “Ehhh,” but his body says, Oh but we are.

  He needs to stop doing this to me; it’s giving me anxiety.

  My eyes dart up to the stands, and as luck would have it, at that exact moment I find Skylar shimmying her way across the fourth or fifth row up, that sassy roommate of hers trailing behind. Poking Skylar in the ass then laughing. Toting a big red and white striped popcorn container then bending when it spills.

  Jesus.

  I observe it all from where I stand. Skylar’s hair is down, falling around her shoulders. Black t-shirt with the school’s yellow logo. Jeans. Sunglasses perched on top of her head. Black purse hanging from her shoulder, its gold chain shining under the bright lights.

  Unfortunately, Zeke notices me noticing and snickers beside me. “You are in such deep shit.”

  I glower as menacingly as I can, mimicking the glares I’ve seen him give more times than I can count on two hands.

  He laughs—fucking laughs—head tipping back, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Oh you whipped little puppy. You should see your face right now—it’s priceless. Which one is she?”

  “I’m not telling you which one she is.”

  “Just point to her. I won’t make a scene.”

  “No.”

  “What color is her shirt?”

  Idiot. “Yellow and black.” Just like the ten thousand other people in the stadium, most of which are wearing school colors, either Penn State blue or Iowa black and gold.

  He stares off, dark obsidian eyes scanning the crowd. Then,

  “The one with long brown hair? Blonde chick next to her?”

  The fuckkkkkk… What is he, some kind of Houdini?

  “I’m right, aren’t I? She’s got brown hair, and she’s in the parent section—right where I’d stick my new girlfriend—and her sidekick is a hot mess, am I right?”

  “Shut up.”

  He prattles on, “Oh! They see us!” Zeke’s arm goes up to wave. “How nice, the little blonde one is pointing over here and your girlfriend keeps slapping at her hand like you’re doing to me.” He grabs my limp arm by the wrist, creating a floppy salute. “Wave and say hello, shithead.”

  “Put your goddamn hand down!”

  “Relaxi taxi, bro.” I’ve never seen him this jovial, and it’s seriously wigging me the fuck out. “God, this shit is hilarious! Your girlfriend is freaking out at her friend, you’re freaking out at me—everyone is freaking out!” He makes a blahhhhhh sound and I want to sock him in the nuts so bad to make this end.

  “And JB—or BJ as I’m going to start calling him—doesn’t have a damn clue.” He claps a hand on my back. “This is going to be such a fun day. I can’t wait to see how it ends.”

  I swear to fucking God…

  Zeke starts walking away. Stops. Pivots back around. Snaps his fingers, remembering something. “Oh, by the way—your dick looks super small in that singlet. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  What.

  A.

  Douchebag.

  Skylar

  “Can’t you just walk in a straight line like everyone else? Do you have to talk to everyone on the way to our seats?”

  “Yes I must. That was my old chemistry professor back there—it would have been rude not to say hello.”

  Hannah gets too close and knocks me in the back—yet again—with the box of popcorn she insisted on getting.

  “He had no idea who you were.”

  “Professor Lewis? Are you kidding? He was thrilled to see me!”

  “That was Professor Langley. He’s an English professor.”

  “It was?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well no wonder he looked so confused!” She laughs, bumping into me.

  No sooner do I say, “If you don’t freaking be careful you’re going to spill that,” than she spills half her popcorn, making a huge mess before we’ve even sat down. “Can we just sit? Please?” I plop down, patting the seat next to me.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” she gripes, as if I’m the one causing the commotion. Settles in. Eats. Stares down at the floor, where blue mats are set up and coaches and coaching staff loiter with clipboards, headsets, and serious expressions. “Your secret boyfriend sure looks mad. Who is that guy he’s arguing with?”

  “I have no idea.” But Abe sure does seem angry about something.

  “He looks like a giant asshole.”

  “Who?”

  “The guy with the black hair. Duh.”

  Phew. I thought for a second she meant Abe and was about to get defensive. “I’m sure he is—he looks like a giant prick.”

  “Whoa, Abe’s getting kind of feisty,” Han
nah is saying between bites of popcorn. She’s shoveling it in with one hand like a bad meme. “Oh look, he’s waving!”

  Before I can react—or grab the back of her shirt collar—Hannah pops back out of her seat, arm flapping in the breeze, waving down to the wrestling floor.

  At the pissed-off-looking asshole, and at Abe, who looks like he wants to punch him.

  I slap Hannah’s hand down. “Would you sit down! Oh my god, sit.”

  “Rawr.” She meows like a feral alley cat, a sound she knows I hate. “You’re so salty.”

  “I just don’t need you waving your arms all over the place. People are trying to see.”

  “Literally nothing is happening. Why are we here so early?”

  “Abe said to get here early, that’s why.”

  “Oh Abe said, Abbbbe said,” she teases, popcorn crunching. “Blah blah blah, I’m Skylar. I have a boyfriend now.”

  She’s the worst.

  But.

  Regardless, I preen, the words making me all warm and fuzzy inside.

  “Shut up, I do not sound like that.”

  “Blah blah blah I’m Skylar and I’m getting laid.”

  “It was one time.” We did it once and I’m still sore between my legs; I’ve had to roll out of bed the past few nights to waddle into the bathroom. “And I still can’t walk straight.”

  “That’s the sign of a good fucking.”

  “No, that’s the sign of a girl who hasn’t been sexed in an age.”

  “Those first few times hardly counted. Neither of you knew what you were doing.”

  Hannah thinks she’s so wise.

  “That’s the same thing you said about the blowjob situation.”

  She points a finger up toward the ceiling to punctuate her point. “Also true.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Don’t pout. You’re getting the D, which is more than I can say for myself.”

  “Now who’s pouting?”

  My best friend ignores me, cocking her head and gazing down toward the court. “Don’t you think Abe looks pissed?”

  It’s hard to say from here, but once the big brooding guy stalks away, Abe begins to pace back and forth along the edge of the blue wrestling mats, hands behind his head.

  Then the lunges begin, his thigh muscles flexing, thick and hard and tight…all words that describe his penis and my vagina and dear God I’ve got sex on the brain.