“Are you my girlfriend?” I blurted.
Blake joined me on the bed, towel wrapped tight around her body. “If that freaks you out—”
“No,” I said. “That’s just the point. It doesn’t. Shouldn’t it?”
Blake shrugged. “Well, it’s not like you’ve been afraid of commitment. Up until now you’ve just been”—she winced—“screwing anything that breathed.”
“Nice, and here I thought you were going to lay me down easy and say something like ‘Oh, Ian, you were just waiting for the right girl to sweep you off your feet!’”
“Girls don’t do the sweeping. Surely that’s in your rule book.”
“Why do men have to do all the work?”
Blake smiled and then slowly untucked her towel and straddled me. “Is that what this is about? You want me to do some work?”
I nodded, afraid that if I spoke, it would somehow spook her into running away. I didn’t even touch her. I just . . . stared.
“So in order to be okay with being my boyfriend . . .”
Damn, the word sounded good on her lips. I was a possessive bastard like that, knowing that she was mine, that nobody else got to see her naked, that no other guy had pressed his mouth against hers. It was enough to make me want to shout in triumph.
“I need to . . . earn my keep?” she said.
“Your words, not mine,” I whispered in a cocky voice. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have any maid outfits in that giant closet of horrors, would you?”
“Nope.”
“Damn.” I sighed. “Janitor outfits? Fast-food? Tell me you at least have a McDonald’s uniform, and I will bang you so hard you’re going to call me Ronald for a week.”
“You’re really weird.”
I gripped her by the ass and tossed her onto the bed. “Yeah, but you fed me, so remember what that means.”
Blake ran her hands through my hair. Her fingers went to my lips and lingered as she whispered, “I get to keep you.”
“Yeah.” I kissed each fingertip reverently. “I sure hope so.”
“Feeling insecure?”
“No,” I lied. “Just . . . different. This feels different.”
“Sometimes different is exactly what we need.”
“Yeah.” I kissed her soundly. “It is.”
I finally left Blake’s house two hours later, freshly showered and ready to meet Vivian at the HUB. It was our second meeting, during which I’d go over the schedule and see if she was okay with it. Hopefully, getting a good look at the guy she was interested in would help me gauge how fast he’d make it through the steps.
Vivian was sitting in Subway, chewing her fingernails and staring hard at one of the employees. He was a bit on the short side, wore his Subway visor backward, and said “yo” more than anyone should ever say within a five-minute period.
“Yo,” I teased, taking a seat across from her.
“He doesn’t even know my name,” she mumbled under her breath.
I ignored that. “Did you move out of your parents’ house?”
Her attention still fixed on the guy, she nodded and kept talking to me without making eye contact, which was borderline creepy. “I moved in with a good friend right off campus. I even cut my hair.”
“I see that.” She’d also discovered red lipstick and all the ways one could get it on her teeth by not properly applying it. “Vivian . . .”
She was still staring at John.
Fine. She wanted his attention? I was going to get his attention.
“You bitch!” I jumped to my feet and tossed my chair to the floor. Stunned students glanced at us. “I can’t believe you slept with him! At my party? At my house! IN MY BED!”
Vivian’s mouth dropped open as she looked between me and the suddenly very still Subway line. Sandwich artistry had officially stopped.
“Ian, what are you doing?” she hissed.
“Um, breaking up with you. What does it look like I’m doing?” I waved my hands around in the air. “You slept with my brother!” I had no such brother. “During my birthday party!” My birthday was in November. “What? You didn’t think I would find out?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Ian . . .” They started spilling onto her cheeks.
“Hey, man.” John walked over and put his hand on my arm.
“Don’t touch me!” I jerked away.
“Chill, yo, just chill.” He offered a calm smile. “It’s just that, Vivian here”—I knew he knew her name—“looks pretty scared. And whatever went down, it’s not cool to air it out in front of an audience.”
“You know what else isn’t cool?” I was seething. “Her.” I pointed a finger in Vivian’s direction. “Making me want her so desperately that I was even thinking of forgiving her for doing the unthinkable. She’s just . . .” I looked away. “She’s beautiful.”