Todos los capítulos de Man's Best Wingman: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

Four days. Four days ago, Xenia stormed out under the assumption that my stupid cockblocking cousin was my girlfriend. I did watch over Makayla’s shoulder as she deleted the security footage from my interaction with Xenia. I wanted to be sure it was entirely erased, even if I wanted to keep it for myself. Not for anything weird, just as a reminder of why hooking up with Xenia would not happen. We are a fucking disaster when together. Makayla quickly fixed my phone, so I was bombarded with missed messages from Missy and Sheila. I didn’t even read them till this morning. I wasn’t in the headspace to flirt and deal with women. Instead, I went to the gym, put in hours at a construction site in Harlem, and hung out with Makayla. But I needed to break the monotony and finally read the texts from the girls. And while at the end, they were starting to think I ghosted them, the first few days were some seriously hot texts. They are very down to fuck with how graphic they got in an attempt to

I don’t even know what possessed me to walk over to Xenia, let alone talk to her. I should have just left, called an uber, and gone home to ice my balls and sleep off the bullshit that was an epic fail of a threesome. But I’m a glutton for punishment because I walked over and started a conversation with her. And by some miracle, she didn’t tell me to fuck off. If she did, I’d have left. I’m not going to force anyone to be in my company. I didn’t mean tonight. My offer to make up the other day to her was open-ended. So her offering to take me to her place to break her curse caught me off guard. Knowing my luck, her idea of breaking the curse has something to do with some voodoo shit from Puerto Rico. But honestly, whatever ways she wanted to try and break my curse, if it meant getting to spend time with her, I was in. It’s fucking weird. I know it’s strange for me to want to spend time with a woman. I’m not against getting to know a woman, but I generally seek out the ones who don’t w

There have only been a few moments I’ve feared for my life or someone else’s. And riding in that ambulance with Clay has made the top three. I’m unsure if it gets to kick my experience of getting mugged on the subway from the number one spot. But it is certainly in contention against the time my brother fell off the roof our first winter in Jersey and had to go to the hospital with a broken leg. I say he fell, but the idiot jumped, thinking there was enough snow piled up to cushion his fall. But whatever is wrong with Clay, it’s not his own doing. I answered the EMTs’ questions the best I could as they checked his vitals and got him onto a gurney. I told them he had seemed perfectly fine till he suddenly wasn’t. That we’d been at a bar where we each had four shots of tequila and shared chicken nachos and that earlier he’d had sushi. I didn’t go into details about the sushi since I wasn’t there, and he only told me he had sushi. I did mention he took a table to the nuts and gut when o

This is ridiculous. I called 9-1-1 and rode in the ambulance with Clay, but now I’m sitting in an interview room at a police station with this dumbass cop who keeps asking me the same questions as somehow my narrative of tonight's events would change. Because I didn’t feel shitty enough that Clay was possibly drugged on my watch and that he blacked out while eating my pussy. Now I’ve got his cunt mother thinking I’m the one that drugged her son and this cabrón of the same mind as her. “How many times do I have to repeat myself?” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Until I feel I have the whole story.” The officer shrugged. “You do have the full story! At least the full story from what I could tell you.” I sighed. “I did not drug Clay,” I repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “Well, you aren’t giving us any….” The cop narrowed his eyes as the door to the interview room swung open, cutting him off. I arched my eyebrow as I saw an African American woman in one killer bold yellow p

I don’t know how long I’d been asleep, but I know it was not long enough to deal with any bullshit. So when someone came into the bedroom, I freaked. It had been a long day before my creepy neighbor tried to drug me and instead drugged the guy I was hoping to fuck. So it’s been a double-long ass day. I’m in a strange place, and someone just entered what I was told would be a secure apartment. So I did the only logical thing. I reached for the nearest weapon I could find, in this case, an alarm clock, when I heard someone getting closer to the bed. And as soon as they were close enough and pulled the blanket off me, I yelled and lobbed it at them. I figured I’d pay Clay or Makayla back to replace the clock. I just hadn’t expected the intruder to be the rightful occupant of the bed. What was Clay doing here? He’s supposed to be in the hospital overnight for observation. And holy shit, why is he naked? There should be a law about him being naked. It’s unfair for anyone to look that hot