“I like it nice and firm, do you?”
“You mean your mattress, right? I wouldn’t want to get the wrong idea…”
I laugh. “Yeah—the mattress.”
“It’s a great bed,” she murmurs.
Her stomach rumbles, and she rests her hands over her stomach.
“If you need to puke—”
“Don’t worry, I stopped drinking just in time.” She takes a breath in. “How was your night? Want to debrief?”
I think for a moment. “I guess you could say that putting our classes into practice was enlightening, at least.”
“But it didn’t pay off—”
I glance at her. “And you’re super sorry to hear that, huh?”
“I had great hopes for you—seems like I’m a crappy teacher, after all.”
“I disagree. You’re perfect.”
She turns to me, assessing.
“It’s no big deal,” I say. “I learned a hell of a lot tonight. Stuff I wasn’t expecting.”
“Like what?”
Like you’re beautiful…
I wiggle my eyebrows in response.
“I’m going to need some M&M’s,” she says.
I reach over to my bedside table and pull out a handful of condoms, raising an eyebrow. I’m half hoping she’ll lean over me and pull one off, but she crushes my fantasy in two short words.
“Keep looking.”
Dammit…
I tuck the condoms away, and fish out the only thing the girl wants from me tonight.
She munches through the packet, pausing now and then to sigh, and I hate how distant she can be. It makes me feel insecure, like she doesn’t enjoy hanging out as much as I do.
I can just feel the tension coming off her in waves. I know she’s trying to put space between us, and I could make it all stop if I just opened my mouth and said what’s on my mind.Hey, Carrie, I’ve been thinking—you’d be the perfect girlfriend for a loser like me. Whaddaya say?Yeah. There’s no way that’s going down. Maybe fucking the bad vibe away would be best for us.
Who are you kidding?The best I can do right now is to stop thinking about it all, get some sleep, and revisit it some other time with a clear head. I focus on her curls. They’re spread out around her, like she’s an angel.
“I really want to bury my face in your hair,” I blurt out.Fuck!
She lets out a soft, loose laugh—the tipsy kind. “Yeah, right.”
She sounds relaxed, though. Enough that I dare to touch a strand. I twirl it around my finger, and her eyes narrow when I lift it to my nose and inhale like a complete idiot.
It smells like grapefruit.
She stares at me, and I can’t get a read on her, so I scrunch up my lips, turning the lock of hair into a mustache.
