“Well, it’s like—sex, road trip, lies, fight, sex, gunshots, wedding, kids.” I glance up. “Oh, and yeah—then there’s that whole ‘monster penis’ part.” I flip my notebook shut. “Seems like we all agree—this guy was a mess, and the read wasn’t great.”
Eleanor tosses her braid over a shoulder. “Wrong! Some of us like a tortured soul. A tough guy who spends the novel questioning everything he thought he knew, patching himself up, rising from the ashes.” She smiles. “I think it’s kind of beautiful.”
Seriously?I literally can’t think of a single thing to say to that, and their commentary over the next few minutes loses me even more. Clearly, when it comes to romance, I still have a lot left to learn, because I can’t relate to 99 percent of what these girls are saying.
“WE STILL HAVE A LOTof work to do,” I warn Carrie as I follow her out to the parking lot.
She gives me a sympathetic look. “I noticed you were struggling, but I liked your thoughts on Rodney. About halfway through, I wished he would just crawl up and die under the desert sun.”
“The guy had balls—I’ll give him that.”
“And even more significantly, he had a huge dick.”
Fuck. Why don’t you say it again…
“Where are you parked?”
“I walked.”
Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “What? I didn’t even know youcouldwalk. And aren’t you going the wrong way, then? You live in the other direction…”
“It’s late, I thought I’d walk you home.” I shrug. “Maybe I’ll stop by Lane’s on my way back. Adam can pick me up.”
“That’s sweet of you, but I’m a big girl, you know. I’m more than capable of walking across campus on a Friday evening.”
“I know you are. But I’m walking you back all the same.”
“Ten points for initiative.”
“I didn’t know we were doing score sheets.”
“It’s a new feature I’m bringing in. Starting today, you’ll get credit for every ‘good book boyfriend’ move you make.”
“Prepare to pay up, baby.”
She pouts. “Sucks for you—your score just dropped to zero.”
“Let me guess—the ‘baby’?”
“You got it.” She nods. “It’s an ick, at best. Do better.”
I slow my pace, hoping the cool night air might settle me down. Besides, I don’t want to rush this walk. Our chats are always so insightful—I want to take my time, soak up every last drop.
“Think I should get a chest tattoo?” I muse. “Get me some bad-boy vibes?”
“They do look sexy.”
“Sure—if you’re into dudes who overcompensate.”
She smirks. “Someone’s scared of needles, huh?”
“I’m not scared of anything.”
“Wrong answer. Embrace your vulnerabilities,” she says. “Girls like a guy in touch with his sensitive side.”
“You alljustsaid you like a guy who’s tough and messed up,” I remind her.
“It’s a balance.”
