Chapter 3
Borrow My Book
The next day, Gemma and I are half-conscious watching TV in the living room when Adrian busts through the front door. His hair is a mess, looking like he rolled out of bed and stumbled straight across the hall. He’s wearing gym shorts, and a sleeveless shirt, emphasizing the arms that had me briefly distracted last night. His lips are turned down in a frown. He looks at Gemma then scans the room. When he sees me in the chair, he narrows his eyes.
“You,” he says, pointing a finger at me.
Wrapped in a blanket, head laying on the armrest, I stare at him. I don’t know what his problem is, but I’m sure it’s not important enough for me to use my neck muscles to lift my head.
Adrian stalks over to me, stopping when he’s a few feet from my chair. “You,” he says again but then begins sniffing the air like a dog.
“Do I smell pizza?” he asks, apparently distracted.
“Yes,” Gemma answers, sounding irritated.
My eating habits often make Gemma want to throw up. Most people tell me I’m lucky I can eat like I do and not be as big as a hippo, but not Gemma. She’s been known to gag when I eat an entire box of mac-n-cheese, right out of the pan. I know I have a great body, but I can’t take credit for it. I eat like a pig and hate exercise—it’s all genetics and metabolism.
Adrian looks over his shoulder at her. “It’s only nine thirty in the morning.”
“That’s exactly what I told her,” Gemma complains, and I don’t miss her I-told-you-so glare. Adrian shifts his attention back to me.
I lift my shoulder and look back at the TV. “I told you I’m PMSing.”
“You eat pizza for breakfast when you’re PMSing?”
“I eat whatever I want.” I glance up and see him smiling. “What?”
“You keep surprising me, that’s all,” he says, eyes twinkling with humor. “Is there any left?”
“I told you I’m PMSing.” It was only a frozen pizza. It wasn’t that big.
“You ate the whole pizza?” He sounds both shocked and amused.
I sigh, and finally sit up. “You came over here to yell at me about something. Can you do that so I can get back to this stupid show?”
He looks over his shoulder at the TV. “What are you watching?”
“Focus,” I yell, getting increasing irritated. Christ, he has the attention span of a squirrel.
He looks back at me, squinting his eyes like he’s thinking. When he finally remembers why he came over, he scowls and points his finger at me again. I want to laugh because his short attention span makes him way more comical than threatening.
“You messed up my skills,” he begins. “All that talk last night about me not knowing what I’m doing,” he taps on his head frantically, “messed with me.”
He kinda reminds me of Kramer, from Seinfeld, with his crazy hand gestures and meaningless words. I just stare, waiting for him to make sense.
Adrian huffs and turns away from me to pace the room. “I was with a girl last night. We start making out and all I can think about is you telling me I don’t know what I’m doing. You’ve got me questioning my moves.”
I bite my lip, trying to hide my amusement. I’m not sure what’s funnier—that he’s agitated by my comment, or that he was thinking about me while with some girl.
He’s pacing the living room, making the floorboards creak, and still talking with his hands. “Everything was great then I hear you in my head,” he says, pointing at me. In a high-pitched voice, he mocks my words from last night. “You probably shove your hand down her pants and start moving your fingers around.”
I finally laugh. “You were making out with some girl and you were thinking about me? That may have been your first problem.”
Adrian tugs at his ear, considering his words. He looks away then back and shakes his head. “My problem was you’ve got me thinking my moves are all wrong.”
Gemma starts laughing and has to cover her mouth to keep from breaking out into a fit. I know what she’s thinking. We’ve had this conversation many times, with other girls over the years. Like I said, I’ve only been with a few guys, so I didn’t gain my knowledge of the general male incompetence on my own. What we’ve learned is that guys have no clue what they’re doing.
“I’m guessing you don’t have any moves,” I tell him, not being mean, just honest.
“Come on woman, you have to give me something. Show me something,” he says, dramatically falling to his knees.
Show him something? He must be high all the time; there’s no other explanation for the shit that comes out of his mouth.
I shake my head. “Um, no… but I may be able to help another way.” I pull my lazy ass out of the chair, wrap my blanket tighter around me, and drag myself back to my room. I search through my adult romance books until I find one I’m willing to let go. When I get back to the living room, I hold out the book for him.
He looks at the book, then back at me, not reaching for it.
“You’re giving me a book to read?” he asks, sounding completely disgusted.
I wave it at him, indicating he needs to take the damn thing before I throw it at him. “Yes. I want you to read just one sex scene from that book and compare it to how you do things. If it describes your moves, or anything close to what you call moves, then you can go back to the girls confident that you know what you’re doing.”
I’m being entirely too giving right now. This is like handing over our team’s playbook, but I feel kinda bad. Now that I’ve helped him see he’s got no clue how to navigate the female body, I should give him a few tips.
He finally takes it and begins flipping through the pages.
“Shouldn’t I read that one book; you know the popular one with the whips and stuff.”
I shake my head, and Gemma laughs again. “No, you definitely should not read that one. If you try to do any of that with some girl on campus, your ass will be in jail.” I nod to the book in his hands. “Oh, and you can keep the book. I know what you’ll be doing while you read it, so I don’t that thing anywhere near me again.”
“How do you know what I’ll be doing?” he asks, playing coy.
“Because I know what I did,” I say with a teasing wink.
He groans. “God, woman, you’re killing me.”
***
Adrian
Carrying the book in one hand, I grab a root beer from the fridge and hurry to my room. Of course I know how to get a girl off, and none have ever complained about my techniques, but I can see Keegan Hughes is not just any girl. I know hooking up with her is an absolutely horrible idea, but it’s one I can’t stop thinking about.
The vision of those long legs wrapped around me gets me harder than I was last night when I was with Katie. Keegan looks, and acts, like the kind of girl who rips your heart out, chews it up while staring into your eyes, then moans seductively after swallowing.
“Fuck,” I mutter, then drop the book onto my bed. I head to the bathroom to take care of the erection I’ve had since seeing Keegan laying there, looking all sleepy and sexy.