“It’s all hypothetical for me anyway.” I simply couldn’t imagine a situation where his advice might help.
“Oh?” Conrad considered this. “Like you’re just not interested in sex? Or relationships? Like aromantic or something?”
I barely stifled a groan, and my voice came out more stilted and formal. “I’m not completely opposed to the concept of sex. I have considered the possibility of being somewhere on the asexual spectrum, but I don’t feel I meet the technical definition.” Looking away, I brushed crumbs off my pants.
“Is that a superpolite way of saying that you think about sex and get crushes?” Conrad laughed.
“Crushes are pointless.” I didn’t address the other part, which wasn’t wrong.
“Yeah, they are. But that doesn’t stop most people from having them.” Making a happy noise, Conrad polished off the last of his food. “And my offer still stands—I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.”
“You wouldn’t?” I couldn’t keep the skepticism from my voice. I’d been under the impression Conrad wouldn’t notice if I fell under a bus. He certainly wouldn’t mind if I was replaced in our play group by someone more…personable.
“Nah. I’ve been there, man, and it sucks. I had to learn the hard way not to trust a cute face and not to believe every pickup line.”
“I’m sorry.” And I was. I didn’t like the pain in his voice and wanted to smash whomever had put it there.
Gesturing with his wrapper, he waved my attempt at compassion aside. “Anyway, time to get back on the road.”
“Yeah.” I let the conversation die, not really wanting to go into more depth about my shortcomings. It didn’t matter what sort of advice Conrad dished out—I sincerely doubted I’d ever get a chance to put it into practice. I wasn’t kidding about crushes being pointless for people like me. The few I’d indulged in had been intense, one-sided affairs that only left me feeling hopeless and like even more of a loser.
Did I want sex? Well, duh. My body wasn’t subject to the same realities as my mind. It loved the idea of sex, and while the idea of hookups with strangers did nothing for me, my body wasn’t terribly picky about what things it found appealing. So sure, sex sounded awesome. But I knew better than to go hoping for something that was less likely than a meteor strike.
The only outcome of our conversation was to make things more awkward when we finally stopped for the night at a small Illinois town. My pretrip notes had included a number of possibilities like this—cheaper stopping points than those found around the bigger cities like St. Louis. Conrad’s financial situation kept me from suggesting separate rooms as a practicality, which meant I was intensely aware that we were about to be alone. Not that we hadn’t been alone all day, but this felt weirder. More intimate.
“Oh, thank God. Two beds.” Conrad flopped onto the closest one as soon as I unlocked the room. I wasn’t sure that I shared his relief, which made me cranky. I should have been happy to have been spared the awkward conversation of the night before, but even with a bed for each of us, my mind still raced. Thanks to our earlier conversation, I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things other than sleeping that people did on beds.
“We’ll need to get an early start. No oversleeping.” I kept my voice firm, trying to banish those sorts of thoughts.
“Yes, warden.” Conrad fished out his phone. “This might be a piece of crap, but it still has an alarm. There. Set. You can have the first shower if you want. I’m not planning on moving for a while.”
Frowning, I considered his exhausted expression—heavy eyes and slack mouth. “Is the driving too much for you? I’ll do more tomorrow.”
“I’m fine.” Conrad’s groan didn’t exactly inspire confidence, but I didn’t press him on it. Instead, I headed for the shower. And there, under the warm spray, day rushing past me in vivid mental snippets and little replays, I tried valiantly not to think about Conrad and kissing and tongues and sex. And failed. Miserably.
I emerged even more frustrated, and it was hours before I slept. I honestly wasn’t sure whether I was up to three more days of torture driving with Conrad. But I had no choice. If I wanted to get to the tournament, this was my best chance. And I wasn’t letting anything or anyone stand in my way.
Not even Conrad with his distracting smiles and disconcertingly tempting offers.
Chapter Fifteen
Conrad
My alarm never went off. It was all my fault. Or rather, it was the fault of my stupid, piece-of-crap phone that could barely be bothered to hold a charge and apparently thought wake-up calls beneath it. Sunlight hurt my eyes as I blinked awake, the sound of my name and not the phone’s chirping waking me up.