The second our drinks are placed in front of us, she’s gone.
14
Becklyn
“Hey, beautiful.”
Okay, maybe she succeeded tonight, because for some reason, I’ve had several guys approach me. Not really knowing how to respond to this latest guy, I merely smile.
He holds his hand out and says, “I’m Chasen.”
I place my hand in his. “Becklyn.”
With my hand still in his, I watch as Chasen’s eyes move from my face down to my chest. I know why he’s doing that too. Deena chose a shirt I’ve never worn without a cami. To say I’m showing some skin is an understatement. It’s embarrassing. In an attempt to draw his attention away from my boobage, I ask, “You go to school here?”
“I do.” With my free hand, I tug my top up a little higher. Since my other hand is still in his, I tug on that too so I can get my hand back. In order to make it not seem rude, I pull free and reach for my glass of lemon-lime soda “with a twist.” It’s what Deena told me to get so it looks like I’m drinking alcohol. She says we’ll “look more legit” that way.
I’m not sure I agree, but I found out a long time ago it was easier to just go with Deena’s ideas—at least in these unfamiliar situations.
“What’s your major?”
Another tip she gave me: “Never tell a guy your real major, Becks. They’ll think you’re too smart.”
That’s one suggestion I tend to ignore. Who wants a guy who can’t stand a little intellectual competition? In this case, though, I go ahead and answer, “Undecided.” It’s not technically a lie. I don’t know what I want to do yet. I’m pretty certain it isn’t anything to do with renewable energy. Anyway, the second part of this little scheme requires a giggle. I do it. And it hurts deep in my soul. But I do it. “What about you?”
“Sports management.” Then he winks. “I’m on the golf team.”
“Golf? Are you any good?” Look at me, engaging in conversation. Go me!
“The best.” He winks again, and I realize that’s a thing. Winking.
“I’ve never played golf before.”
“Maybe I should take you sometime.”
“I don’t have clubs.”
“Oh…” He smirks. “I’ve got aclubfor you.”
And right there. That’s when I know that Chasen is not for me, because the guy just referred to his man part as a “club.” I stare at him, waiting for a wink, but he disappoints.
In a ploy to end this thing right this minute, I giggle again, then look back over my shoulder. “Uh-oh. I think I’d better rescue my friend over there.” I point behind me. It’s a ruse, because I know for a fact that Deena Summers does not need rescuing.
“Stay.” He reaches out and places his hand over my wrist. “Let’s get to know each other.”
Shaking my head, I attempt to get my hand out from beneath his, but he’s got a good grip. “I need to go. She’s—”
“She’s fine.” How the heck does he know? “We clocked the two of you when you walked in. She’s with a buddy of mine.”
“Oh.” Crap.
He leans in so close, I pull back out of fear he’ll try to kiss me or something. No thanks. “The minute you walked into the place; I knew I had to fuck you.”
“Oh.” The blush on my face has to be florescent pink. Who says that to a stranger anyway?
“Does that surprise you?”
“Yes.”
