A compelling point. I shrug like I'm as unaffected as he is. "Um… missionary."
He laughs, not at all buying my answer. "Second favorite?"
I try to think up something less obvious than missionary but I draw a blank. What the hell? My brain has no problem imagining me and Miles in the throes of passion—him pressing me against the wall, me climbing onto him in the driver's seat, the two of us tangled together on his bed—but it is utterly unable to articular any words.
He stops short at a yellow light. "I can show you a few good ones."
I take a deep breath so I won't turn the color of a tomato. "Excuse me?"
His eyes find mine. His expression is the epitome of confidence. "You do want to fuck me."
"I do not."
He shakes his head. "You've been picturing me naked all night."
"Because I saw you naked. I couldn't help it."
"Mhmm." The light turns green and he slams on the gas. He turns the corner and speeds onto the freeway on-ramp. "And now you're thinking about it."
"I'm not."
"I'm better than whatever you're imagining."
"Did you even know that girl's name?"
"Yeah."
I'm not convinced. "What was it?"
"Stephanie. Pretty sure it was Stephanie." He shrugs. "It's just sex. You'd know if you—"
"My sex life is none of your business."
"Don't have to be defensive about it. Nothing wrong with being a virgin."
I cross my legs. I'm sure Miles never has to be defensive about his sex life. Nobody ever thinks he's uncool or uptight. Nobody looks at him like he's a buzzkill.
He's a stud.
Hell, he's a rising rock star.
I want to explain it, to justify my frustration, but he's still aloof as hell and I'm still rattled. Why bother?
Social lives are overrated.
The weight of the silence spreads through the car. It's too much. I have to turn the radio on. It's tuned to KROQ and, God help me, the station is playing In Pieces.
The vocals are a low moan, a sound meant to express an extreme outpouring of emotion. I can't get past the moan. Is that what Miles sounds like when he's mid orgasm?
I scramble to change the station. Rock. That won't do. I find the oldies station. It's sure to be free of Miles's voice.
He laughs. "You're cute when you're nervous."
I fold my arms over my chest. "Do you have a problem with oldies?"
"That's why you changed the station, just hoping to hear Build Me Up Buttercup?"
"No, I was hoping for Happy Together."