“I don’t want your help,” I hiss, punching him as hard as I can in the arm. He doesn’t even flinch. If possible, his smirk seems to grow even wider.
“I know, I know. I’m incredible. A total champion. You can thank me later.” He slings the arm not above his head around my shoulders. “Come on, Pips. I’m going to teach you a few lessons on how to attract the opposite sex.”
5
RYAN
There should be a girl sucking my cock right now.
After a whirlwind trip to San Diego for the tournament, I’m wiped. My plan was to grab take-out from Terrace and pig out on the couch while I scroll through my contacts, texting girls until I found someone who was free to come by and have a little fun. No better way to celebrate a win.
Instead, I wasted the night creeping on my stepsister’s date and my dick remains unsucked, all because I’m a good guy. I knew Pippa’s date was a douchebag the second I saw him. Protective older stepbrother that I am, it was only right that I kept an eye on things, making sure he didn’t try anything untoward.
After Dickface McCrypto made an early exit, I generously volunteered my time to fix the world’s worst dating profile and give the poor girl a fighting chance at finding someone so she doesn’t die alone.
I know. I’m a saint.
“Unpack my food,” I tell Pippa, passing her the bag of take-out. “I’ll need sustenance if I’m going to overhaul your bio. Seriously. All of this has to go.”
She groans, dropping my food unceremoniously on the counter. “Stop being overdramatic. My profile’s notthatbad.”
“Not that bad? The first thing you say is ‘You might be my soulmate if you think Mr. Knightley’s superior to Mr. Darcy.’ Come the fuck on. Do you think any guy gives a shit about your favorite Austen hero?”
“It tells guys that I love reading,” she says defensively. “It gives us something to talk about.”
“It tells guys that you’re a prude and a nerd, and not in a hot librarian way.” I type quickly. “There. Fixed it. See? You can be literary and still be hot.”
I pass her back the phone so she can read my new bio. “‘If you talk books with me, I’ll let you under my covers.’ Seriously, Ryan? That bio basically promises guys sex!”
“Exactly. Simple psychology, Pips. Offer people want they want.” I point to my forehead for emphasis. “Men want sex. Women do too, even if society tells them they’re not allowed to.”
“Of course you’re all about feminism when it’s helping you score.” She looks back to the profile, and she makes the face she always does when she’s thinking. Lips slightly pursed to the right, eyes narrowed. “But I don’ttotallyhate it. At least you used a pun. I didn’t realize your sense of humor had advanced to that level.”
“Stop thanking me. The gratitude is too much. You’re going to make me blush.” I take a big bite of my burger. “Now, we’ve got to delete all your photos and start over.”
“No way! Those are the best photos of me.”
I snort. “This artsy crap? You really thought some black and white photos where your body is covered from head to toe was the way you were going to catch some dick? You’re giving off nun vibes.”
Pippa’s cheeks flush, turning her olive skin a muted pink. “I don’t dress like a nun.”
“No, but you wouldn’t know that from these photos. Like, what you’re wearing right now is good.”
I admit, her outfit looks better than good. Like usual, she’s in all black, but not in a boring way. A pencil skirt that hugs her ass but isn’t too tight. A long-sleeved tight sweater that looks soft as hell, cutting to show the top of her breasts in a way that stops short of being slutty. I don’t normally like it when girls wear tights, but hers have those sexy seams up the back. Combined with her red lipstick, it all adds up to a sexy, old-school femme fatale thing.
Not that I’m about to inflate Pippa’s ego telling her that.
I hold out my hand. “Give me the phone. Let me pick.”
“No! I’m not just going to give you unlimited access to my picture roll!” She clutches the phone to her chest, like she’s afraid I’m going to jump over the counter and snatch it from her. I mean, sure, it’s something Iwoulddo, but right now she’s just being a drama queen.
I groan, exasperated. “What’s the big deal? I’m not going to judge you for taking a bunch of selfies or something.”
“There’s stuff I don’t want you to see.” She blushes harder, the muted pink veering more toward red.
“Wait, you don’t—” My eyes bug out when I realize what she’s not saying. “You don’t have nudes on there, do you?”
She doesn’t answer. She just stares at my half-full carton of French fries like it’s the most fascinating thing she’s ever seen.
