“Yeah. About that. I run a lot and lift weights so I’m always hungry.”
Now I really want to see his V. Maybe even lick and bite it. I’ve never seen one in real life. For that matter, I’ve only had pseudo sex once, and it was with that dickwad I used to date last year. He tried to repeatedly stab my vagina with his penis one night and it was so horrifying, I made him stop. He ended up calling me all kinds of awful names like cockblocker and frosty cunt, so I broke up with him while lying in my bed naked and sobbing. It was the most humiliating moment of my life. I still have nightmares over that incident. And dickwad—not even close to having a V. His abs bore a closer resemblance to a bowl of Jell-O. He was kind of cute in the looks department, but after his asshole move in the bedroom, every time I saw him after that, I swear he turned into a trollface. I still pray a horde of killer bees descends on his peen and stings the hell out of it. It’s no less than he deserves.
“What in the world are you thinking that has put that scowl on your face. I hope it’s not me?”
Good lord! “Oh, no!” My laugh is shaky. “It’s definitely not you. Actually, it’s nothing, really.” I rub my arms as I glance at the napkin on my lap. Why did I have to think about that dreadful night?
“Come on, Cate. You looked like an assassin from one of those Jason Bourne movies a few seconds ago.”
“I did?”
“Yeah. Spill it.” His grin is disarming.
“No. You’ll think I’m awful.” The last thing I’m going to do is tell him about dickwad.
“Only if it involved me,” he says.
“It didn’t but I can’t tell you. It’s of a highly personal nature.”
“Well, I hope to god I never put that look on your face.”
“I hope you don’t either. Let me just say it had to do with killer bees.”
“Killer bees. I’ll remember that. On another note, how about some killer dessert?”
As long as it has to do with your V, sure. “Okay. What are you having?”
“Their tiramisu is the best.”
“Wanna share?”
“Nope. I’m too greedy when it comes to sweets.”
“I love an honest man. Make it two then.” The waiter takes our order and when they are delivered, Drew was right. It is some kind of tasty. But I bet his V is better. Why am I being such a horn dog tonight? I’m on my second spoonful, and his dish is empty. His arm extends across the tiny square table and he dips his spoon into mine.
His dessert thievery makes me laugh. “Damn, you really are greedy.”
“Sorry. I’m surprised my teeth aren’t the size of giant Chicklets. I have an enormous sweet tooth.”
“Eat away.” Why am I flirting?
He waggles his brows again and says, “I’m hoping to.”
I nearly spit out the bite of tiramisu I’ve just taken. He turns a bit pink again, which I find most charming, and says, “Sorry. That was a bit inappropriate.”
I swallow to avoid choking, and reply, “No. I don’t mind inappropriate. You just caught me by surprise.” By the time I’m ready for another bite of my dessert, I find my dish is empty. He gives me a guilty look. And for some reason, I want to pinch his cheek and tell him it’s okay. How weird is that? I’m usually not a giggly, pinch the cheek kind of girl. Now that I think of it, I’m normally not a share my dessert kind of girl, either.
“I’m sorry I stole your tiramisu.”
“It’s okay. You did me a favor.”
“How’s that?”
“I didn’t need all those extra calories.”
“Oh, god, please tell me you’re not one of those?” He sits back and inspects me.
“One of what?” I’m truly baffled.
“The rabbit eaters. Girls who eat like rabbits.”
“No, I couldn’t survive without pizza. You can probably tell.”
“I can tell you look perfect to me.”
Uh huh. They all say that when they want to get in your pants.
“You don’t believe me?”
“No, I believe you. But come on. Most guys are only interested in one thing.”
“True. But Cate, I’m not most guys.”
I laugh. “Now that’s an original line.”
“Shit. That was a bad one, wasn’t it?”
“Not the worst I’ve ever heard.” We both chuckle.
“So, Cate Forbes, are you up for going out for a drink with me?”
“Yeah. One question. Where do you live?”
That adorable smile reappears and he says, “Indy. But don’t worry. I booked a hotel room for the night. I was thinking we might be out late and I didn’t want to deal with the hour drive.”
That was sweet. “Where are you staying?”
“At the Union.”
“Cool. Then let’s hit it.”
We decide on a club called Chuckie’s. On the way, Drew leans toward me and asks, “Cate, since you’re not twenty-one, are you going to be able to get in the clubs?”
I wave my hand in the air. “No worries. I’m a resourceful college student. I have a fake ID.”