Nine
Jenny
“Jesus Christ!”
Lincoln jolts back against the kitchen counter, thumping against a drawer, his gray eyes wide with alarm. He’s got those stick-em-up hands again, his toned stomach pressing against his shirt with each harsh breath. It’s like he spotted a venomous snake by his feet, not an awkward girl trying to give her stupid crush a blow job.
I flatten my palms against my leggings.
Honestly. I’m not going to maul the big jerk.
“You asked me what I wanted.” I lift one shoulder, acting far more casual than I feel. If I put myself out there like this and he rejects me… well, let’s just say there’s not enough bourbon-soaked ice cream in the world. “This is what I want. If you’re up for it.”
“If I’m up for it?”
I’ve never heard Lincoln sound so strangled. It’d be pretty funny if my chest weren’t flayed wide open right now. Being brave is the worst.
“Yeah, I mean. I might suck at it. Pun intended.”
“Jenny.”
“What? Come on, this can’t be a huge surprise for you. Every time I look at you, I have dumb little cartoon hearts floating in my eyes.”
My words are sweet but my tone is grouchy as hell. Already, my knees ache from the hard kitchen floor, and Lincoln’s looming over me, so tall and muscly and baffled. How long is he gonna leave me hanging down here? Is he just going to step over me and walk away?
I would die. I would flop over, roll under the fridge, and make a new life with the dust bunnies.
The digital clock on the oven flickers, a minute passing. Then two.
My bones creak as I push to my feet. I feel one thousand years old.
“Forget it. The ad is fine.”
Squeezing past, I can’t meet his eye. May never look at Lincoln properly again. And my cheeks are hot, my stomach hurts, and I can’t believe I did that. Can’t believe I ever thought my gorgeous roommate would want that from me.
Because he knows I have no experience, knows it would be clumsy and awkward as hell—and more than that, he surely knows it wouldn’t be a meaningless encounter to me.
It wouldn’t be a dare.
Wouldn’t be a personal challenge.
It would be everything.
“Wait.” Lincoln catches my elbow, and his gentle grip makes me want to cry. I press my lips together and stare at the wall. “Jenny, wait a second. Do you…”
He trails off. Sucks in a ragged breath.
“Do you really want to do that? With me?”
Yes. No.
Depends if he’s going to be this freaking horrified by it.
I shrug, still miserable, and Lincoln’s thumb strokes back and forth on my arm. The soft fabric of my sweater slides over my skin.
“I didn’t know, sweetheart.”
My vision blurs, and it’s like my chest is caving in. How could he not know? I’ve been walking around for the last few weeks with my bloody heart stitched to my sleeve. I eat, sleep, breathe thinking about Lincoln.