“Freshman,” he repeats with increasing concern, and I can practically see Piper James right there, dancing around in her brother’s eyes, vexing him to no end with our youthful connection. How much older did she say he was? He can’t be more than a couple of years. “My sister’s a freshman.” He gives a momentary frown into this offense. “I’m a junior—business major. How about you?” He’s back to grinning, and my heart skips a few fleeting beats because I do believe we just tap danced right around Little Miss Pouting Piper. If Piper knew she was just avoided on both ends of our conversation, her ego might combust. Piper, much like any little she-devil worth her salt, does appreciate her conversation-hoggin’ due.
“Undeclared, but I’m planning on switching to business.” It’s true. After seeing the haul Caila brings in and knowing that the club takes a hefty cut themselves, I figure I’d best start up my own franchise of something just as lucrative come graduation. If I can appreciate anything, it’s getting a hefty take. Lord knows I wouldn’t earn a dime rotating on that pole all night long. Another venture I’m looking to pursue is starting my own makeup line one day—Vixen Cosmetics. I figure I’ll get the business know-how first, then work with cosmetologists to develop something specialized that will work well on heavy scars and burns—mine included.
“Business? That’s great.” He scoots his chair in close to my left, and I all but tip backward trying to scoot the hell away in the opposite direction. “Sorry.” He slides his seat on back where it came from, and I no longer have to worry about the neck cramp that’s been steadily forming. Thanks to our impromptu rendition of musical chairs, my good side is naturally on display.
“Please don’t apologize.” That fruity glass of strawberry daiquiri courage calls to me, and I take an unordinarily long swig of my drink, draining half of the concoction in a single bound, and my head spins quick enough to spew just about anything from these lips. “Just to be upfront, I’m not gunning to get laid tonight.” Crap. So not what I was hoping would spew from my lips. Where the heck did that little tidbit of sanity come from? The mini Caila on my shoulder stabs me in the eye with her pitchfork, and I wince.
Our mouths fall open in tandem as we both gape at the awkward one-night stand hole I’ve just hoisted the two of us out of. And, after he so kindly offered to demonstrate that expletive-riddled tirade he’s so good at with the promise of making me scream. I have a feeling I will be screaming later. Only all of the shouting will be directed at yours truly as I angrily impale myself with my new blue boyfriend.
“I mean, my sister suggested it—the one-night stand.” My mouth keeps moving without my permission, and mini Caila jumps for wicked joy. “She prescribes sex like vitamins.” I flick the little menacing piece of rubber she left behind like a calling card. “She practically gives these away like Halloween candy.” I rattle it in front of him just as he leans in, and I smack him hard over the nose. “Oh my God! I’m sorry!” I drop it like a dead snake and clamp my hands over my mouth.
“What is this?” He pulls it forward for inspection.
“It’s sex on the beach, minus the beach or a living male actually required to achieve such a feat.” My hands ride up over my eyes a moment because I’m pretty sure I should be dying of embarrassment right about now.
“A what?” He pulls it closer with his mouth still agape as if he’s about to take a bite before shouting an entire string of obscenities that ends with, “Shit, fuck, shit!”
“Now, now with the language. We’re not behind closed doors yet, city boy.” Mini Caila bumps her behind to my face as if to high-five me with her booty. “I get it. You’re a man’s man. Go ahead and drum your fists over your chest a few times if it makes you feel better.” A schoolgirl giggle strums from me as I snatch my blue boy up and slip it into my purse. “I bet an entire herd of helpless women will come running, just begging to swing off your vine.” Please—as if they don’t nightly.
“You’re a funny one.” He takes a much-needed, testosterone-inspired swig of his beer. “So we’ve established I’m a little too friendly with the girls. How about you? I bet you have to fight the boys back with that little blue stick.” He points half-heartedly toward my purse. “I’ve seen these WB boys in action. It ain’t pretty.”
“Ditto for the female population.” This time we do toast.
“You’ll find someone special.” I lean in, bringing my face as close to the center as I’ll allow. “Boys as blessed by God as you are always do.”
“I can say the same about you.” His eyes bear into mine, sending a spear of heat darting right down to my stomach once again. For a moment, the noise, the jostling limbs of those on the dance floor all melt away to nothing.