Definitely not her. Most of all, not her.
“You’re not going to ‘curse’ me again, are you?” She wiggles her fingers while emphasizing the word curse with air quotes. Fuck. Out of everything she remembers that.
She lifts her arms, divides her ponytail into two, and pulls. The action tightens the man T over her boobs and I notice the distinct outline of her nipples. Eleven eights …
“How do you know?” I ask … eleven times … She drops her arms, but the shirt stays put, and so do the nipples. I’m sure she has pretty perfect nipples. Eight is …
“Ren.” The snitching fucker. “You ruined my life!” She seems a little angry if I’m not mistaken.
“I had my reasons.” I look down but feel the weight of her gaze.
She sticks a finger between, the elastic material of her shorts and the skin of her right thigh, and tucks it down.
Eleven times eight is eighty-fucking-eight. Fuck math.
“Mel,” I look up and straight into those pick-me-up eyes. Her mouth is grim. “Do you trust me?” Her eyes pop showing an utterly bamboozled face.
“No,” comes the straight answer. I’m not amused and a little hurt. But I guess I earned her mistrust. Something I definitely have to work on.
“Actually,” I hold my breath, “it depends … I trust you will look after me and not let me get physically hurt.” She looks down and eyes her toes. “But I won’t trust you with my heart.”
“Well, you will. And we need to talk when I get back.” She looks at me as if judging my sincerity, that usual inner conflict of hers, back in her eyes.
“Okay,” she says hesitantly after a beat. I can see she’s confused and weary, maybe even a little scared, but also slightly excited. Her nipples harden. Eight times … fuck that.
“Why are you wearing that?” I gulp. I mean, a guy can only do so much multiplication and stay sane at the same time. She looks down at her clothes as if she can’t see the problem.
“I was trying out for the soccer team.” Her face lights up, eyes shining. “And I got in. Center Midfielder.” I grab the hoody hanging around my shoulders and hand it to her.
“Congratulations,” I say sincerely. “Now, put this one.” She takes it hesitantly but holds it with a straight arm far away from her body as if it reeks. And I know it doesn’t. Worst case scenario it will smell like my perfume. I’m pretty much for cloaking her in my scent.
“I promise it doesn’t stink,” I chuckle at the disgusted face.
“Oh, I know that,” she peps, “You always smell pretty great. I’m just wondering if it could maybe impregnate me through osmosis, given who it belongs to.” The meaning behind her words stings a little.
“Ouch, that hurts,” I put my hand on my heart. “I would like to think I’m a little more discerning than that,” I say, trying to go solemn but not quite making it.
“If it helps, there’s a condom in the pocket.” That’s a lie. I haven’t carried a Trojan around for months. “Rule 7. So no possibility of a baby.” Now that part is true.
She pulls a face at the top, trying to hold it even further away. Seriously. Fuck she’s adorable.
“Yeah, prudent is not really a word that comes to mind when I think of you. But my point is … your dick can’t be trusted. That thing has a mind of its own and will fuck anything with brown hair and a coochie.” Does she really think I’m that bad? But I can’t blame her … it’s not that far from the truth. But that’s not me no more.
“Do you need my help putting it on?” Huge baby-blues jerk from eyeing my top to staring at my crotch.
“The condom?!” she squeaks. I try not to laugh but fail. Truly fucking adorable.
“I was actually talking about the sweater.” She’s still looking at the spot where my dick is straining more and more against my zipper, and her looking at it is not helping. Her eyes grow huge and stiff and she licks her lips. Is the little thing having indecent thoughts?
“Oh, good, I see you found us a ride,” Kiara interrupts, stops, and stares. She leans into her friend and whispers. “Is there a problem with the jacket?” Mel blinks and drops her arm, my top now hanging down those gorgeously smooth legs. I will gladly exchange places.
“She thinks it might procreate,” I answer soulfully.
“Serious?” Kiara grunts. “Now that’s new.” She grabs the top and stuffs it against Mel’s chest. “Just put the darn thing on before the man’s nuts crack.” Mel glares at her friend but does as she says.
“Where am I taking you ladies?”
“Paws and Claws,” Mel finds her voice again. I’m surprised and confused – are they adopting?
“The animal center?” Just making sure we’re thinking about the same place.
“Yeah,” Kiara answers. “Mel signed us up as volunteers for this therapy pets program. It’s part of her new experience-everything list.” I stare at her in shock. Kiara is way too sophisticated to be an animal lover. And I’m thinking that dog hair all over her fancy clothes will not go down well. And I also would not mind a peek at that list.
“YOU are going to work with dogs?” I say this slowly eyeballing Kiara. “That shed hair.”
“Oh, close your mouth badboy,” she shoves me with the ease of familiarity. “Mel can do the dogs. I’m going for the men. Apparently, the trainers are hot-as-hell hunks and all single to mingle.” She points a stern finger at Mel.
“They’re mine … you have Ren.” Then she grabs Mel’s arm and wiggles hers through it. “But if you think of making a chance, I’m willing to share.” She faces me. I swallow down the burning sensation in my throat not liking any of those scenarios.
“Where’s your car?” I point in the direction of the parking area, still trying to process the single hot-as-hell trainers part.
“Let’s go,” I say with an attitude that matches my sudden mood. I need to see those fuckers for myself.
I follow, staring at the part of her legs that sticks out under my hoodie. As if her dating Ren is not bad enough, now we’re throwing some hot animal lovers into the pot too. Not to mention the D dude. Maybe I should take her with me.
“So,” Mel asks after Kiara shoved her into the front seat, “When are you leaving for Spain?” I’m rather surprised that she even knows where I’m heading.
“In about two hours. I’ll be back again in October.”
“For your birthday.” She remembers. That’s a start I guess.
“So are you gonna announce your engagement then?” Kiara snaps from the back, and I suddenly feel winded.
“Engagement?”
“To that Chloe chick,” she says in her bitchy voice. I try to find my bearings. Seems she also doesn’t remember that night.
“Chloe?” Why do they keep on thinking that I’m going to do anything with that bitch?