“I don’t think that.”
“Please, I can see it all over your face. You think I sleep around, don’t you?”
She looks down at her nails and says, “Well, you did kiss another girl the same night you tried to hit on me.”
“Like I said, she kissed me, and I wasn’t about to go dead lips on her. I have a reputation to uphold.”
“Heaven forbid.” She rolls her eyes.
“Rumors spread, Ealson. Last thing I need is for the student body to know me as the shortstop with dead-fish lips.”
“That really sounds unappealing.”
“See.” I reach for another Oreo. “Now twist with me, I have some burning questions for you.”
She eyes it for a second, her lips twisting to the side, questioning if she should break apart another cookie, but her curiosity wins out and she grabs the other side. “Okay, one, two, three, twist,” she says, and we break the cookie apart.
I glance down at my plain chocolate cookie and curse under my breath as she plops the cookie in her mouth with another smarmy smile.
“Okay, what the hell are you doing? Are you aware of some twisting trickery that I’m not?”
“Just luck.” She winks.
Why don’t I believe her?
As she chews on her cookie, she mulls over her question for me. “When did you lose your virginity?”
I choke on my beer while trying to wash down my cookie. Shit, I wasn’t expecting that.
She pats my back and then casually leans on the stair behind us, smiling at me. She’s so cool and calm, unlike any girl I’ve ever met. She’s not trying to fluff her hair or make sure her lipstick is perfect. Yeah, she dressed up tonight and looks fucking good, but she isn’t high-maintenance. I like that. I like her.
A lot.
Once I gather myself, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and say, “Wasn’t ready for that question.”
She brushes her hand over her skirt and casually says, “You said we could ask anything.”
“I guess so.” I lean against the handrail and turn slightly on the stairs so I’m facing her. “Seventeen. My date and I had sex for the first time after prom.”
“Seriously?”
I chuckle. “Yup, totally cliché and I’ll tell you this, it was good for me, but given I lasted like thirty seconds, let’s just say it wasn’t the best for her.”
Emory covers her mouth, eyes wide, and laughs.
“If any guy tells you he’s good at sex right off the bat, he’s a liar.”
“How would you say you fare now?”
I lift a thick brow. “Interviewing for a position in my bed?”
“You wish. Just wanting to know if limp dick should be paired with your dead-fish lips.”
My eyes narrow as I point at her. “Don’t even fucking joke about limp dick. Jesus. Shit spreads quickly here on campus.”
“So you’ve informed me.” She smirks.
Goddamn, she’s so . . . cool.
“So . . .” she continues, “are you limp or not?”
“Not,” I answer quickly. “I’m actually really good in bed. Want me to show you?”
She holds up her hand. “I’m good. After having you pass out while holding my boob, I’m pretty sure I know the extent of your bedroom abilities.”
I sit up taller. “That’s not an accurate portrayal of my talents in the bedroom. I barely made it to my room that night, let alone kept my eyes open long enough to help your wayward boob back in place.”
She just shrugs and picks up another Oreo.
I don’t take it though, instead, I motion to the loft. “Come on, we’re going to my room. I’ll show you right now what I can do. Fucking question my abilities to pleasure a woman, I’ll show you what pleasure is.”
She attempts to tamp me down with her hand. “It’s really okay. I believe you. You’re the ultimate lover. Got it.”
“I don’t believe you mean that. You’re being sarcastic.” I point to her lower half. “Fine, if you won’t go back in the loft, lift up your skit, I’ll eat you out right here, right now.”
For the first time this night, her cheeks flush and her cool façade finally shows a crack. Huh, would you look at that. And I thought her confidence was sexy, I think her embarrassment might just be even sexier.
“Not necessary.” She holds out the cookie and I have an inkling about something. I hope to fuck I’m wrong, because this girl is hot and sexual.
No one gets that red over someone mentioning oral unless . . .
I twist the cookie and when I see that I finally have the most cream, I don’t even take the time to celebrate, instead, my burning question falls straight from my lips. “Has anyone ever gone down on you?”
She looks away.
Fuck, I knew it.
Cheeks blushed, ears red, body language completely turning off. I hit a nerve.
“Answer the question, Ealson. I answered yours.”
She pushes her thick hair behind her ear and stares at her cookie while answering. “No.”
Jesus Christ, how is that possible?
“Are you fucking serious? How long were you with your boyfriend?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It sure as hell does. Tell me, how long?”
She pops the cookie in her mouth, dusts off her hands, and stands. She gives me a quick smile, a pat on the shoulder and says, “Thanks for the snacks. I’m going to go mingle.”
I stand too. “Em, don’t leave. We don’t have to talk about him.”
“Or we don’t have to talk at all. I’ll see you around, Knox.”
Before I can stop her, she walks back into the party, leaving me on the fire escape with two beers and Oreos. Well fuck, that was short-lived. Real smooth, Gentry.
Real fucking smooth. I finally bridge the gap she keeps between us, and ask about the obvious no-go topic: her boyfriend. But, what the fuck? Emory is passionate, funny, resourceful, sexy, and a damn good time—yes, out of the bedroom too. What boyfriend denies his girlfriend something that should be synonymous with fucking? What sort of ass did she date? That’s so fucked up, and I hate that I may have lost an opportunity to find out more about this girl. Because she deserves more. And I’m going to show her just that.
Chapter Nine
EMORY
“Why is this chicken so good?” Lindsay asks, shoving a fried leg into her mouth and gnawing on it like it’s her last supper.
“Because you’re drunk and will eat pretty much anything,” I answer, looking out the window of the very popular Kennedy Fried Chicken. It’s a drunk staple in Brentwood and not far from the baseball loft. It’s why it’s overly crowded with students who barely have their wits about them.
“Aren’t you going to have any?” Lindsay asks, holding a piece of fried chicken out to me. Reluctantly, I take it and set it on the napkin in front of me, slowly picking away at the piece of meat. I’m not even close to being drunk, which is a shame because the feelings roaring through me could use a little alcohol to subdue them.
I was doing so well, actually having fun with Knox. I love teasing him, and I can tell he likes it too by the small smirks he passes my way, but when he asked about Neil going down on me, it resurrected so many hateful and hurtful feelings all at once. I knew if I didn’t leave, I would have made a fool of myself, and I didn’t want to do that, not in front of Knox.