“You want the truth? Here it is: it bothers me sometimes that all you do is talk about sex. It’s a turnoff for me. Like, let it go already, we get it, you’re a walking hard-on.”
“Is that your only impression of me?”
“Are you being serious?” she deadpans. “You spend half our time together making sex jokes, and yet you expect me to take you seriously right now.” Jameson throws her hands in the air, mumbling to the ceiling, “What is it with guys?”
Okay, but… “Seriously, you think that’s all I want from you? Sex?”
Her chuckle is sarcastic and lacking enthusiasm. “What else is there? Do you honestly just want to be my friend?”
“No, I don’t just want to be your friend.” Not any more; now I want to be her friend and I want to bang her. Repeatedly. “Do you just want to be friends?”
“I did at first. I mean, you’re vulgar and kind of a pig. I’m not sure where to start with a guy like you. You’re like a set of Legos with a million tiny pieces and terrible instructions, and I’m not sure where to stick what. And then I end up stepping on the pointy edges in the middle of the night, which hurts like a bitch.”
What the fuck is she talking about?
“What I’m saying is…I think you’re really fun and great, but parts of you could hurt me.”
I scratch my chin. “I’m not sure how to feel about being compared to a set of Legos.”
“That’s why I haven’t slept with you.” She bites down hard on her lower lip. “But you’re growing on me and I hate it.” Her head shakes back and forth, eyes squeezed shut. “Hate it.”
“So my pointy edges are…?”
“Other girls.”
I draw each word out slowly, carefully. “Sometimes sex is just sex, James, and that’s all it is for me. A physical act to relieve stress.”
Jesus, even to my own ears I sound like a huge ass; I basically just compared sex to working out at the gym. I curse my mother for not teaching me better manners.
And yet, it doesn’t faze her. “That may be true, Sebastian, but I’m not into sharing or constantly wondering if my boyfr—the guy I’m sleeping with has his youknowhat in someone else’s youknowwhat. It’s a deal breaker, and you said you weren’t into being tied down, so…”
“Maybe I changed my mind.”
“Have you told your fan club?” Her gorgeous pout makes my heart skip a beat and my pulse race, no fucking lie. It means she cares.
“Jameson Clark, I never would have pegged you as the jealous type.” Even to me, my next question comes out sounding incredulous. “You’re not jealous of the other girls, are you?”
Cause that would be great. I’ve had jealous, angry hate sex in the past, and believe me when I say, it’s the best.
“Yes, I guess I am.” Jameson gives a careless shrug, shocking me with her honesty. “I just know that all the times you’ve said you want to fuck me”—she winces—“it pushed me away—no, that’s not the right word. It didn’t push me away, but it does make me feel…” She struggles with her next choice of words. “Common? Like maybe how all the others feel. The girl in the hallway with the red hair.”
I glower. “You are nothing like those other girls.”
Jameson rolls her eyes, and blurts out, “Duh. I know that.”
This unexpected statement surprises us both, and the way she says it makes us laugh. I fall onto the bed, roll onto my side, and prop myself up on an elbow, studying her.
I study her hard.
“You are nothing like those girls. Nothing.”
I want her to get it; I need her to understand. Using the only tool I have to communicate, I show her with my body. Stretching my large frame across the bed, I scoot across the bed, dragging her down so she’s positioned flat on her back. Balancing my elbows on either side of her face, I look down into her face.
She is truly beautiful.
I’ve always thought she was cute, but with her hair fanned out on my navy quilt, staring up at me all wide eyed and trusting, she’s a total knockout.
I want to wrap the gleaming locks of her hair around my fist and tug, so I twirl some into a curl with my finger.
“I’m sorry Jim. I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Ask you out. Date you. I would never treat you—” I stop, not knowing how to finish my thought. “Jameson.”
“Sebastian.” Her lips twist into a patient smile.
“Nothing about you is easy…”
Her soft laughter fills the room. “Thank god for that.”
“I can’t believe I’m fucking saying this, but for someone who started off as just a study partner, you’re all I can think about lately.” Her glossy hair slips from my fingers, greedy hands raking through the hair spread across my bed. “Night and day. Being on the road and not seeing you is killing me. That’s never happened before. Not talking to you was killing me. Dreaming about you—”
“Was killing you?”
I still, narrowing my eyes at her. “You didn’t look like such a smartass the day we first met.”
James cocks an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What did I look like?”
“Smart and sexy.” Confident and complicated.
Jameson snickers. “You did not think I looked sexy. You thought I was a dork, don’t lie.”