Epilogue
“I refuse. I will not do it, no matter what you say.” “Come on, Iz,” Blake said, kneeling in front of her. “Just say yes.” “I would rather die,” she said, turning her head away from him. She couldn’t look at him when he was like that, gorgeous and half-dressed and giving her that hopeful look that was nearly impossible to deny. “And I probably will die if I do it.” “I won’t let you die.” Blake glanced at his watch before saying, “Pleeeeeease?” Izzy rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Why did I ever give you Josh’s number?” “Because you wanted to have sex all night and needed him to feed The Darkling, if I recall.” Blake stood from where he’d been crouched beside the couch and extended his hand. “Get up and come with me.” “Have I ever told you that you look good in boxer-briefs?” she asked, letting him pull her to her feet. “A hundred times, but flattery won’t get you out of this. Come shower with me, and then let’s go kick some ass.” “How can someone so smart be so incapable of learning?” Izzy muttered to herself as Blake led her toward the bedroom. She moved in with him a few months ago, probably too soon for normal people but perfect for them. Everything had been amazing since the day she’d hung her Target outfits in the closet beside his GQ suits, and she'd never looked back. She had a great job at Google, working in HR, and Blake had been promoted to an EVP at Ellis. Their office buildings weren’t that far apart, so on most Mondays, they still met at Caniglia’s food truck for pizza and calzone. Honestly, the biggest challenge for them so far had been the cats. The Darkling didn’t like either of Blake’s cats, and poor Goodyear hid under a chair for the first week that Izzy and her furball lived there, terrified. The felines were finally co-existing as of last month – basically because The Darkling never left the bedroom – so peace had kind of been restored. Josh moved into her old place, thrilled to have an upstairs apartment and a downstairs apartment like a total boss. She didn’t talk to him quite as often since she moved, but he and Blake texted all the time. Hence the Billboard Assholes challenge that her boyfriend was apparently too weak to refuse. “Your cousin’s idiot friends keep talking smack, Iz, saying that our win was rigged because I’m good at pushups or some bullshit like that. Josh needs to clear his name with his nerd squad, and we need to prove that we can beat them at any challenge.” “But we can’t,” she said, and when Blake stopped beside the bathroom door, Izzy raised her arms so he could remove her shirt. “The game is impossible and dangerous.” “Shay.” He gave her a smile, one of those sweetly-patient grins, and took off her top like he was her caretaker. “We won before, and we can win again.” “Doubtful,” she said, but then it was her turn for shirt removal. She slid the Chiefs t-shirt up, letting her eyes and fingertips enjoy the pectoral exposure. Once it was off, she grinned and said, “Although…I kind of feel like I’m winning at the moment.” “Same. And the night we won at Billboard Assholes, Iz?” He pulled her close, his big hands covering her backside and pressing her flush against him. “The game wasn’t the win - the kiss was.” She smiled, remembering. “That was going to be our one and only, just to see what it was like.” He made a noise that mocked their foolishness. “It was the gateway drug.” “Are you saying my kiss got you hooked?” He raised a hand and pushed her hair off her face. “Honey, I was hooked the minute you felt me up in Starbucks, checking for a third nipple in those dirty-ass glasses.” Izzy laughed, but she felt the same. She’d belonged to Blake since the very second she’d stolen a PSL and accidentally became Amy.