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Am I right? We just want that feeling over and over again. That on the edge of your seat, heart racing, adrenaline pumping, tears occasionally flowing, so sad and so happy elation. We want bad boys with a kick! Not just hot looks and steamy scenes but actual, real feelings, angst, game-playing and heartache, romantic moments and angsty moments, prolonged… in detail. We love the thrill of the chase.
She was farther from naive than I was; light years away. This operation was nothing less than precarious. I was in my bedroom sorting dirty laundry when I heard the front door open. I walked into the front room, and there she sat: Glasses, her hair piled on top of her head, and what might have been pajamas. It was so hard not to bust into laughter. Never once had a female come to my apartment dressed like that.
My front door had seen jean skirts, dresses, even a see-through tube dress over a string bikini. A handful of times, spackled-on makeup and glitter lotion. Never pajamas. She was going to try to nauseate me into leaving her alone.
At first she seemed proud of her idea, but as we talked and I remained impervious, it was clear that she knew her plan had failed. The less she smiled, the more I had to stop myself from grinning ear to ear. She was so much fun. Shepley and America joined us again.
Abby was flustered, and I was damn near lightheaded. She went from doubting the fact that I could write a simple paper to questioning my penchant for fighting. I kind of liked talking to her about normal stuff, preferable to the awkward task of asking her to leave once I bagged her. Where did you learn to fight? Her cheeks turned red, and at that moment, I felt a twinge in my chest.
I immediately tried to make her feel better. Dad quit drinking. The brothers grew up. I struggled to think of something to change the subject, and then mentioning her sexy, frumpy look came to mind. Her embarrassment was immediately replaced by irritation, something I was far more comfortable with. America suggested watching TV, but the last thing I wanted to do was to be in a room with Abby, unable to talk to her. I stood. I forgot. You grabbed a Before we left.
I opened the door, trying to keep my voice casual. We can hit a pizza place. That might have been too eager. She looked down at her sweat pants.
She had no idea how beautiful she was. That made her even more appealing. It might sound hypocritical to the women that have passed through my apartment door, but if they carried themselves with respect, I would have given it to them. I winked at America, who seemed satisfied, nodded to Shepley, and then took another bite of whatever was on my plate. Shut up, dumb ass, Brazil said in his typical low voice. I took my tray to the trash, and then returned to my seat with a frown.
My eyes targeted Jenks. Sure thing, Travis. All you had to do was say so. He chuckled nervously before gathering his trash and heading out. Before long, most of the lunchroom was empty. I glanced down to see Shepley and America still hanging around, talking with her friend. She had long, wavy hair, and her skin was still bronzed from summer break. Familiar somehow. I stood up and walked toward her.
She had the hair of a porn star, and the face of an angel. Her eyes were almond shaped and uniquely beautiful. That was when I saw it: Even when she smiled, I could see sin so deeply ingrained in her that no cardigan could hide it. Those eyes floated above her tiny nose, and smooth features. To anyone else, she was pure and naive, but this girl was hiding something.
I knew only because the same sin had dwelled in me my entire life. The difference was she held it deep within her, and I let mine out of its cage on a regular basis. I watched Shepley until he felt me staring at him. I could tell the girl knew we were talking about her, because she kept her head down, pretending not to hear.
I kind of dug that about her. She put on a front to keep assholes like me away, but that made me even more determined. She rolled her eyes at me for the third or fourth time. I was annoying her and found it pretty amusing. A twitch. Your eyes keep wiggling around. If she could have murdered me with her glare, I would have bled out on the floor. She was a smart-ass and rude as hell. I liked her more every second.
I leaned closer to her face. Those are some amazing eyes, though. What color is that, anyway? She immediately ducked her head, letting her hair cover her face. I made her uncomfortable, and that meant I was getting somewhere. America immediately jumped in, warning me away. More like amused. The pigeon peeked over at me and grinned. A warm feeling—probably just the insane urge to throw this girl on my couch—came over me. She was different, and it was refreshing.
A smile, I said. It was nice to meet you, Pidge. Help me out here, would ya? I backed away, holding my hands up to highlight the most innocent expression on my face that I could manage. I walked backward a few steps to the door, noticing a small group of girls. I opened the door, and they swarmed through like a herd of water buffalo before I could let myself out. It bothered me that she might think I was a piece of shit, but it bothered me more that I cared.
Either way, for the first time in a long time, someone was unpredictable. Except the girl on the end. Sophia flashed a crooked smile.
It looked like her face had caught fire and someone had tried to put it out with a fork. She had been with a few of my frat brothers. Knowing their track records and her lack of concern for safety, it was best to consider her an unnecessary risk, even if I was habitually careful.
She leaned forward on her elbows to make better eye contact. I felt the urge to shudder with disgust, but I resisted. Not even close to being worth it.
The brunette in front of me turned around and batted her lashes. Hey, Travis. Her bottom lip formed a pout. The blonde next to me leaned forward. As the women argued back and forth, I noticed Abby rush in.
She practically threw herself into a front-row desk just before the bell rang. Before I took a second to ask myself why, I grabbed my paper and popped my pen in my mouth, and then jogged down the steps, sliding into the desk next to her.
She was utterly disgusted, and that only pleased me more. Most girls bored me outta my gourd, but this girl was intriguing. Entertaining, even. My very presence seemed to make her want to puke, and I found that strangely endearing.
The urge came over me to find out if it was really hate she felt for me, or if she was just a hard-ass. I leaned in close. Her eyes softened before she shook her head. She just wanted to hate me. I was way ahead of her. If she wanted to play, I could play. She seemed embarrassed to say what came next. You should give up, now. Oh yeah. This was going to be fun. I let my eyes drift to the ceiling, as if I had to think about it. I tried not to smile too much and give myself away.
They knew it as well as I did. Abby was different, and I was going to have to work for this one. For once. Three doodles of potential tattoos, and two dozen 3-D boxes later, class dismissed. I slid through the halls before anyone could stop me.
I made good time, but Abby had somehow ended up outside, a good twenty yards ahead of me. She was trying to avoid me.
I quickened my pace until I was next to her. Have you thought about it? A girl said, playing with her hair. She wrapped her arms around me.
I patted her backside, shrugged out of her grasp, and kept walking, wondering who she was. I popped a Marlboro into my mouth and jogged to her side.
Where was I? I stopped midstep. She was up to something. Sweet, I said, playing off my surprise. See you then, Pidge. She walked away without looking back, not the least bit affected by the conversation. She disappeared behind other students making their own way to class. He was in no hurry to get to our computer class. My eyebrows pressed together. I hated that class. I joined Shepley and America as they merged into the flow of students on the main walkway.
She giggled and watched him yap at me with stars in her eyes. America was no vulture. She was hot, yeah, but she could have a conversation without saying like after every word, and she was pretty funny at times. She acknowledged me with a friendly smile, but then her eyes were right back on Shepley. This is me, America said, gesturing to her dorm around the corner. He gripped her shirt on each side and pulled her close before letting her go.
America waved one last time at both of us, and then joined her friend Finch at the front entrance.
His eyes were a billboard for his emotions and thoughts most of the time, and he was clearly serious—maybe even a little desperate. He was in love. I said, hooking my elbow around his neck. Are you in love? I turned, crossing my arms across my chest. I tried, Shep. I did. I shrugged.
That was never fun to explain. It was all about presentation. Pigeon, though. It would take far more than false advertising to bag her on my couch. At this point, the strategy was to take her one step at a time. If I focused on the end result, the process could easily be fucked up. She noticed things. She was farther from naive than I was; light-years away. This operation was nothing less than precarious. I was in my bedroom sorting dirty laundry when I heard the front door open.
I walked into the front room, and there she sat: It was so hard not to bust into laughter. Never once had a female come to my apartment dressed like that. My front door had seen jean skirts, dresses, even a see-through tube dress over a string bikini. A handful of times, spackled-on makeup and glitter lotion. Never pajamas. She was going to try to nauseate me into leaving her alone. At first she seemed proud of her idea, but as we talked and I remained impervious, it was clear that she knew her plan had failed.
The less she smiled, the more I had to stop myself from grinning from ear to ear. She was so much fun. Shepley and America joined us ten minutes later.
Abby was flustered, and I was damn near light-headed. Our conversation had gone from her doubting that I could write a simple paper to her questioning my penchant for fighting. I kind of liked talking to her about normal stuff. It was preferable to the awkward task of asking her to leave once I bagged her.
Shepley and America seemed to be embarrassed for Abby. I had a dad with a drinking problem and a bad temper, and four older brothers that carried the asshole gene. Oh, she said simply. Her cheeks turned red, and at that moment, I felt a twinge in my chest. Dad quit drinking. The brothers grew up.
I struggled to think of something to change the subject, and then her sexy, frumpy look came to mind. Her embarrassment was immediately replaced by irritation, something I was far more comfortable with. America suggested watching TV. The last thing I wanted to do was to be in a room with Abby but unable to talk to her. I stood. You hungry, Pidge? I forgot. You grabbed a. Before we left. Abby was embarrassed again, but her anger quickly covered it. I opened the door, trying to keep my voice casual.
Wherever you want. We can hit a pizza place. I inwardly cringed. That might have been too eager. She had no idea how beautiful she was. That made her even more appealing. You look fine. Once she was on the back of my Harley, I could finally think straight again.
My thoughts were usually more relaxed on my bike. Almost a relief. This weird sensation I felt around her was disorienting.
I decided to get my shit together. Abby might be a pigeon, but she was just a fucking girl. No need to get my boxers in a bunch. Besides, there was something under the good girl facade.
No way was she a slut, though. Not even a reformed slut. I could spot them a mile away. My game face slowly melted away. Abby associating me with someone that would hurt her was even worse. I gunned the throttle as I pulled into the Pizza Shack. Yeah, if we were on the autobahn! She ripped the wild bun down from the crown of her head, and then brushed her long hair with her fingers. I imagined that this was what she looked like in the morning, and then had to think about the first ten minutes of Saving Private Ryan to keep my dick from getting hard.
Visible intestines. More blood. She angrily stomped past me and into the restaurant, ignoring my gesture. It was a damn shame; she was the first girl that I had ever wanted to open the door for. After following her inside, I headed for the corner booth I usually commandeered. The soccer team was seated at several tables pushed together in the middle of the room. They were already howling that I had walked in with a date, and I gritted my teeth. For the first time ever, I found myself embarrassed about my behavior.
Seeing Abby sit across the table, cranky and annoyed, cheered me right up. I ordered two beers. The waitress was blatantly flirting with me, and Abby was unhappy. Apparently I could piss her off without even trying. Hell, yeah. She was jealous. Maybe the way I was treated by women was a turnoff. This chick made my head spin. I leaned on the table with my elbows, refusing to let her see she was getting to me. Are you a man-hater in general, or do you just hate me?
I had to laugh. I choked back my laughter to no avail, and then burst out laughing. Easily fixed. Maybe ever. We have to be friends. That was it. She smiled, and in that moment, a whole new world of possibilities opened up. I smiled back. You have my word. She rested her small elbows on the table and leaned onto them. Of course my eyes went right to her tits, and the way they now pressed against the edge of the table.