Pacing and bitching at myself, getting more and more agitated as I crossed off each excuse as complete bullshit. Or at least not the reason I was so fucking angry. First reason: Lane and I were friends, and she seemed to be backsliding into a person she didn’t want to be anymore. So it was only natural for me to worry about her getting back together with that fucking asshole frog. “What the fuck did she ever see in that guy anyway?” I asked the empty room. “He looked like more of a toad than a frog.” I moved on to the next reason: Lane and I were great together. Sexually, I’d never had a better partner. “I know her favorite position. Why? Because I’ve done it with her a bunch of times, including her first time.” I smacked the door. “Right there.” Her idiot ex never even tried it with her. What kind of man sticks to one position when he’s got someone who’s incredible and hot and generous and adventurous and fun and—? Okay, that wasn’t helping. So I went on to another reason: Because that dickwad didn’t deserve her.
