“Having a dinner party?” Brody asks as he loads my groceries into the back of my Fiat 500 Pop. It was a birthday slash graduation gift from my dad. While he ignores me every chance he gets, he does go all out on his gift giving. The car is cute as fuck.
“No.” I laugh, unwrapping my toffee apple because I can’t wait any longer to bite into it. “I’m just picking up groceries for my stepmom and her kids.”
“That’s very kind of you,” he says, folding his arms as he rests his weight against the back of my car, and watches me crack through the toffee with an oversized bit. Apple juice runs down my chin.
“I’m not very ladylike, am I?” I say, laughing as I try to chew and speak and clean myself up at the same time.
“I don’t want you to be a lady, Maya.”
“Wh-what do you want me to be?” I ask, almost whispering.
He reaches out and runs his thumb across my chin before bringing it to his mouth and sucking the juice off. “I want you to be mine.”
“Huh?” I practically groan out loud as my knees shake and press together as my core aches with desire.What is going on here?Is he for real?
This guy is seriously hot. Model or movie star level hot. Blond hair, blue eyes, and a natural tan that makes his skin glow. He has muscles that push against the fabric of his baby-blue button-up shirt every time he moves. He’s got everything going on. What in the world is he doing hitting on me? I’m the biggest nerd in school, the red-headed stepchild no one wants around, I’m far from model cute. This makes no sense. And yet, I’m so turned on by this guy that I want this to be real. But I’m wary.What if this is some cruel joke?
And it wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened. Josh Parker, the captain of the lacrosse team, asked me to homecoming one year. I got all excited and spent my savings on the perfect dress, only to sit at home alone all night because it was just a prank. Thank god I had the sense to pretend like I knew all along. No one learned the true depths of my humiliation except for me.
My phone goes off in my purse, the wicked witch music from the Wizard of Oz cutting into the moment. It gives me the chance to look away, to breathe, to get a fucking grip.
Chantelle: Are you milking the almonds yourself?
Me: In the car now.
“I have to go,” I say as I hit send.
“Is the wicked witch your stepmom?” He’s fighting a grin and losing while his eyes shine with mirth.
I shrug. “Yeah. It’s childish, isn’t it?”
“Not if it makes you feel better,” he says, standing up and shutting the trunk for me.
“Thanks for the toffee apple,” I say, handing it back to him. “And the chat.”
He wraps his fingers around the stick as he says, “You don’t want to keep it?”
“She doesn’t let sugar into her house, so…” I press my lips together and shrug.
“She sounds fun.”
I laugh as I pull the driver’s door open. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”
“Give me your number and I’ll make sure of it.”
He grins and holds out his phone, open to a fresh new contacts page with ‘My Maya’ already typed in. I blush as I take it from him.
“Your Maya?”
“If that’s what you want.” He leans against the car, casually watching as I wage an internal war between trusting this guy and protecting my self-esteem. I mean, what if he doesn’t call?
“OK,” I say finally, swallowing down the lump in my throat as my thumbs dance over his screen. I save my details and hand him back his cell.
He presses the phone to his chest. “I’ll talk to you soon, my Maya.”His Maya.
A giggle escapes as I climb into my car. “I hope so, Brody. I really do.”
Brody
