{Emma}

“You have anything to drink besides beer?” I definitely need something to take the edge off. Being around Ryan has me hyperaware of everything, including the way he looks at me, and at the way my body responds whenever he looks at me.

“You still planning to cut my hair today?”

I study the mullet and nod. “It has to go.”

“Then no drink until you finish. I want to keep my ears.”

Makes sense. Doesn’t make me happy, but makes sense. “Fine. Where are the scissors?” I spot them still on the counter from last night and grab them.

“Are you going to run with them this time?”

“I just might. But first, I’m going to take care of your mullet.”

His hand shoots to his hair. “It’s not a mullet.”

“It’s so a mullet.” I brandish the scissors.

“It’s a tasteful bi-level.”

I snort. “That’s not even a haircut. Now, wet your hair. It’s easier to cut that way.”

He laughs and sticks his head in the sink. Within seconds, his hair is dripping. Guys have it so easy. It would have taken me longer to get the water temp right than it did for him to finish. Grabbing a kitchen towel off the counter, he uses it to sop up the excess water in his hair before taking a seat on one of the stools at the counter. “Done.”

I’m still staring at the towel in his hands. It was on the counter. The kitchen counter. Does he even know what’s on that thing? It wasn’t clean when I used it to sop up the grease from this morning’s bacon debacle. All that is now in his hair. I shudder. Guys are so gross.

I play with his hair. It doesn’t feel like any grease transferred from the towel, so I let it go and keep playing. He watches me closely and I love it. And hate it. I can’t think straight when he looks at me like that. “Stop staring.”

“Why?” He doesn’t even try to deny it, instead flashing that lopsided grin I’m really starting to find irresistible. “I like staring at you.”

Oh, God. He can’t say things like that and not expect me to react. “I can’t do this while you’re staring. It’s too much pressure.”

He drops his gaze but keeps the grin. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” I can tell these things. He’s really not. “Now, how short am I going?”

“Your call. Whatever you think will transform me from a zero to a hero.” Clearly, he’s not over that comment. I wish I could take it back. He’s not a zero. Not even close. I’m the zero for calling him that. “Turn me into a guy you’d go out with for real.”

I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing this for him, to make him big man on campus, not to turn him into someone I’d want to go out with. I’m already dating him—well, fake dating. Still, he’s not that far off now. I’d date him, even with the mullet.

I drop my hand as the realization takes hold. Shit. I really am molding him into something I want. Then again, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. The majority of the female population all want the same thing—someone who makes them happy and looks good doing it. The fact Ryan is just as attractive on the inside as he will be on the outside when I’m through with him is an added bonus. “Let’s leave the length in the front, maybe trim the top, but you have to lose the mullet.”

“Are you qualified to cut hair?”

“How hard can it be?”

He turns his back to me as he groans. “Don’t take off an ear.”

“Then hold still.” Bye-bye mullet. I attack the length first, chopping off inches of hair. I blow at his neck to remove the little pieces of hair stuck to his skin. It prickles, and I smile.

“What are you doing?” he asks, barely above a whisper?

“You have hair on your neck.” I blow again. This time he straightens and releases a shaky breath. As much as I love to drive him crazy like this, I have work to do and get back to my task. Once I have the back done, I swing him around to face me so I can work on the front.

He’s watching me as I work, which makes me nervous. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” I hold my breath and try not to notice how much he notices me.

“Was last night a one-time thing?”

I stop cutting and look at him, my heart in my throat. “Do you want it to be a one-time thing?”

He shrugs. “We’re friends, right?”

“Right.” I go back to cutting. It’s not perfect, but it sure as hell is better than before.

“I know this isn’t a real relationship, but if I’m going to get this, if I’m going to be with a woman without totally screwing it up, I need your help.”

“That’s why I’m here, Romeo.”

“No.” He takes my hand and holds my gaze. “I mean, I really need your help.”

My heart shoots back up to my throat. I don’t trust the way he’s looking at me. “What is it you’re asking me to do?”

He blows out a breath and drops his attention to his lap. “I want you to teach me how to make love.”

I physically jump back at least a foot and hold the scissors like a weapon. “Are you asking me to sleep with you as part of the deal?”

He brings up his hands. “As friends. Only as friends. I can’t explain it, but you’re the first girl I’ve been able to talk to without stuttering myself into a panic attack or throwing up. Or both. We could be friends with benefits, you know? I could get in some practice.”

“You did not just insinuate you’re going to use me for sex practice, did you?” I tighten my grip on the scissors.

“You said it wasn’t off the table.”

“That was before.”

“Before what?”

“Before I knew you still had your V card.”

“My what?” He blinks at me.

“You’re a virgin,” I remind him. Like I need to. He’s a goddamn twenty-three-year-old virgin. I didn’t think they existed.

“I know.” He sets his jaw and lowers his hands along with his shoulders. Then he lowers his head, like he did when I called him a zero.

“Ryan, your first time should be…” I hesitate, thinking of something that wouldn’t make me sound like a parent lecturing a child about the birds and the bees.

“With someone special,” he finishes, his shoulders slumping lower. “Is it weird that I think you’re pretty special?” He lifts his gaze and, strangely, I lose my fight. “We’ve already messed around. I want to go all the way. With you.”

I lower my hand and the scissors slip from my grip. They drop to the floor, the sound shocking me into realizing what his request means. Holy shit and cheeseballs. He wants me to take his V card. I don’t know how I feel about that. It doesn’t seem right. A person should lose their V card to the one. Then again, my first time was at a party when I hooked up with the wingman of the guy Britt was with. Special, it wasn’t and love him, I did not.

Great. Now I sound like Yoda.

“We aren’t like that. That… That’s not what this is.” I’m not sure if I’m saying it to convince him, or me.

“Friends have sex all the time. That’s all this will be.”

As much as I want to be offended by his proposal, I’m not. It’s exactly what I want. A guy friend to hang with. To bang with. Someone who isn’t going to constantly berate me for my choices like Britt does. Someone to go to a bar with and just hang out, where I don’t have to worry about every guy in the bar wanting my friend instead of me.

A guy friend. I’ve never had one and always figured if I ever did, he’d be gay. Ryan definitely isn’t gay. “And it won’t get weird between us?”

He chuckles. “Like I said, it’s already weird between us.”

I couldn’t argue that fact. Before I make my decision, I want to think about all the reasons why it will never work. I’m a pessimist at heart. “Let me think about it.”

“Really?” He has such hope brightening his expression, I worry what crossing that line will really mean to him. It’s no secret he’s got a crush on me. Sleeping with him will only make it worse.

“On second thought,” I say, disappointed. I wouldn’t mind having sex with him, but I won’t if I think it’ll hurt him. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He deflates as his face falls slack. Christ, he looks like I just told him there’s no Santa Claus. “Why not?”

“Because you like me. Like, like me.” I like like him, too, which only complicates the issue more.

Frowning, he studies me. “So?”

“If we have sex…” I trail off, not sure what else to say. I want this, but not at the expense of his feelings.

“You’re worried I’ll get too attached.”

“Exactly.” I think. It has nothing to do with me being worried I’ll be the one to get too attached. Not able to face him until I sort out that thought, I grab the scissors and move behind him to make sure I’ve cut each and every hair. “Hold still. We need to finish your haircut. Then, a shower.”

“Together?”

My fingers slip and I nearly nick his ear. This morning was nice, and I’d like to do it again, but I’m scared shitless it will turn into the only other time I showered with a guy if we take it any further than a hand job. What a disaster. It was cramped, awkward, and about as ridiculously unsexy as it gets. He slipped on the soap and went down, smacking his head on the side of the tub and splitting his scalp open. I had to call 911 in nothing but a towel and explain to the paramedics what we were doing when he fell.

I don’t want a repeat of that, like, ever. Still, Ryan would eventually be asked to shower with a woman. I need to make sure this morning wasn’t just a fluke. It’s my duty, as his friend with benefits, to confirm he’s more than a quick study. Deciding to take one for the team, I answer. “We’ll shower together. You’ve already seen me naked.”

“And I want to see you naked again. I’m not going to lie.”

“Don’t make me cut you.” I close the scissors and rest the blades against his ear. He laughs, drawing the same from me. I finish turning his hair a little less 80s and a little more this century. I have to admit, he has the power to turn a few heads even now. With some work on that wardrobe, we’ll have the look of a player down. “All done. Let’s hit the showers.”

“Have you ever had sex in the shower?” He looks at me and wiggles his eyebrows.

“We are not having sex.” We just aren’t.

“I won’t get attached. Promise.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, right. You already are.” As much as I hate to admit it, so am I, which scares me. The instant I start having feelings for a guy, I start planning my exit strategy. Sleeping together will only speed up the process. I’m having too much fun to quit this so soon.

“Here’s a tip about guys,” he says and turns in the chair, placing his back to me. I don’t trust it. Why’s he suddenly avoiding looking at me when he couldn’t keep his eyes off me when I first got here? Besides, I’m supposed to be the one teaching him, not the other way around. “We’d sleep with a girl without ever knowing her name, let alone get attached enough to learn it. Trust me, I see my frat brothers do it all the time. They just want to get laid.”

I’m shocked and even a little sad he thinks that. Mostly shocked. “That’s so douchy.”

“That’s what being a Delta is, baby. Don’t hate the player. Hate the game.” He says it so coolly, so matter-of-factly, I have a hard time processing it. Brad said the same thing to me in the bar. What happened to my Ryan? What happened to the guy who’s attractive on the inside? That Ryan would never say something so heartless. I don’t like this Ryan.

“Don’t be a dick.”

“Hey, if you think I’m being a dick, that’s on you. Not me.”

“Ryan, stop.” I really don’t like this Ryan.

“If you can’t handle it sweetheart, there’s the door.”

“You know what? You’re right.” Screw this. I storm to the couch to grab my boots and sweater. I refuse to be a part of this any longer. If he wants to be a complete dick, he can find someone else to practice on.

“What are you doing?” He stands, sending loose hair falling all around him.

“Congratulations, HP. You’ve gone from potential boyfriend material to a complete Delta dick in record time. Enjoy the DASH. I’m out.”

“Where are you going?” When I ignore him and hurry to the door, he jumps in front of me, blocking my exit. I refuse to look at him, even when he places his hands on my shoulders. “Emma? What’s wrong? What’d I do?”

I finally look at him. His eyes are wide, pleading with me. I’m still pissed, but that look of fear and uncertainty tightening his expression gives me pause. “How can you say something so mean?”

“What? I was being a Delta. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“If you think that’s what I want,” I counter, my voice shaking as my emotions tighten my throat and burn behind my eyes. “If you think any girl wants to be treated like she doesn’t matter, then you’re not the guy I thought you were. Now, let me go.”

“Emma.”

“Let me go.” I stare him down.

“I’m sorry.” He backs away. Smart man. “I was only trying to be a true Delta. That’s how I see my frat brothers treat girls. I—I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“No.” As I open the door, I glance over my shoulder. “That’s what you wanted.”