For Real (Rules of Love, Book One) (15 page)

Hazel gets up and bowls a strike and then does a seductive walk over to the boys, turns slowly and walks back over to high fives and fist bumps from the rest of us.

“We can’t let that stand, can we boys?” It’s Javier’s turn. He gets up, picks up his ball and kisses it, which I think is the height of disgusting. Who KNOWS where that ball has been? Then he whispers something, holds the ball in front, steps forward and throws it with a flick of his wrist.

The pins clatter to the floor and Javier raises his hands in victory. Lots of whooping follows as he celebrates. We all boo and throw things at him. We’re even louder now that several trays of Jell-O shots have been consumed. I swear, I’m like, contact drunk. As the game wears on, the alcohol flows, the yelling gets louder and the flirting and trash talking get more obvious.

Marty and Skye are both gunning for Hazel, but she’s not giving them the time of day, or maybe she’s playing hard to get. I’ll have to ask her later. She’s so good at it, sometimes it’s hard for me to tell if it’s genuine. Jordyn can’t stop giving Tanner googly eyes, but he’s a little distracted by a girl in the group who’s been giving him the eye. That’s a disaster waiting to happen. Cass keeps looking at Boyd, and he looks back at her, but he’s pretty quiet when it comes to the smack talk. In fact, he’s barely said three words. Strong and silent.

And Jett. Oh, Jett. If anyone could make bowling sexy, it’s the boy with the dragon tattoos.

“You have got it bad,” Hazel says in my ear as I watch Jett smoothly get another strike. I’ve been so distracted by him that her voice makes me jump.

“I can’t help it.”

“He is pretty sexy, if you like that kind of thing. I like a guy with a little bit more meat on him, if you know what I mean.” I turn away from Jett as he sits back down.

“He’s got plenty of meat. There is nothing wrong with his meat.” Granted, I haven’t seen his meat, but I’m sure it’s fine. At least I hope it’s fine. I’m sure it’s lovely meat, as far as meat goes.

Hazel laughs.

“But his meat is the only meat you’ve had. You have to sample lots of different meat to find out which is the best. How can you judge meat if you’ve only had one kind?”

“I’m fine with his meat.” This conversation is getting a little too convoluted for me.

“You say that now . . .” she trails off.

“Okay, can we stop talking about meat?” I say.

“What about meat?” Jordyn says, finally taking her eyes off Tanner. She has got to purposely be ignoring Tanner and his wandering eyes.

“How’s Tanner’s meat? Nice and juicy?” Jordyn looks scandalized and then smiles.

“It’s perfectly juicy.” Ugh, this has become a disgusting conversation that I want to work my way out of.

Fortunately, the end of the game and the victory of Team Vagina ends the meat talk. We decide we’re done with bowling (since the boys are nursing their wounded egos), but we’re not ready to leave, so we head to the bar, where the bartender doesn’t seem to notice if anyone is of age. Or maybe he just doesn’t care. It’s probably bad business to card anyone. He wouldn’t have any customers. Whatever, it’s not my problem.

I order a drink and nurse it along. By the time we leave, I should be good to go.

Javier is smashed again, and he’s started singing along with the song that’s playing in the bar. I can’t really tell what it is because he’s so loud and he’s mangling the lyrics so much. He climbs up on a table and stands, much to the disgruntlement of the bartender who yells at him to get down before he breaks something on his property. Javier reluctantly gets down and Jett’s arm snakes around my shoulders.

“Hey, princess. Having a good time?” I turn and kiss his cheek. I’m feeling extra affectionate right now.

“I am, are you? Even though you lost and we handed your manhood to you?” Oh, snap.

“Behave,” he says, pinching my nose. “We’ll get you next time. Now we have a score to settle and reputations are on the line. We’re coming for you.”

“Is that so?”

“I never joke about bowling. Bowling is serious business.”

The only reason we leave the bowling alley is because we get kicked out when they close at 2 a.m. Everyone but me (and Jett) is completely toasted and ready to pass out. Well, everyone except us and Javier. He hasn’t passed out yet.

Jett and I drive everyone back to their respective apartments because everyone is too drunk to drive and then we head back to mine. Hazel mumbles two words and heads to her room. Jett didn’t have anything to drink, and for some reason, I’m not tired at all. I think I’m on my second wind, or something. I’ll probably be up all night and then crash tomorrow afternoon.

“You want to just go to bed?” Jett says, stretching his arms. He does that a lot. I like it because it makes his shirt ride up and then I get to see some of his stomach. I just wish I could see
all
of it.

One of these times, I’m going to catch him. We have an unspoken rule that shirts and shorts are required when sleeping. If it wouldn’t have been a double standard, I’d have said that Jett should be shirtless, but then he’d say that I should be shirtless and we wouldn’t get anywhere. I could play that argument in my head without even doing it out loud.

“I’m not that tired, but we can go to bed if you want to.”

“No, if you want to stay up that’s fine. Watch a movie or something?” This is one of our favorite things to do when we’re together. We seem to have the same tastes in films.

“I might fall asleep. How about something we’ve watched before so I don’t miss anything?” he says as we go into my room to get our pajamas. I’ve stopped wearing the ugly ones. Okay, so I went out and bought some. Shorts and matching t-shirts. Cute ones with the Batman logo on them, or with funny words all over them, and even a pair with bacon. I thought Jett would like those, so I’m wearing them tonight.

“You get to pick.” We’ve been trading who gets to pick what movie we watch. I got to choose last and I made him watch
Crazy, Stupid, Love
. I said it was because it was really funny and had Steve Carell in it, but really, I wanted to see Ryan Gosling with his shirt off. If I can’t see Jett with his shirt off, Ryan is the next best thing. Hubba, hubba.

“Uh,
Mean Girls
.”

“Wait, you’re choosing
Mean Girls
? Did you really like it that much?”

He just shrugs and grabs his pajamas and heads for the bathroom. “What? Tina Fey is a genius.”

Yes, he is the perfect guy. Be jealous.

An hour later, I’m in my bacon pajamas, Jett is wearing a tank top and shorts and we’re semi-snuggling on the couch. He keeps trying to tickle my feet and I keep threatening to kick him in the face. So much for trying to be quiet. Poor Hazel. Hopefully she’s intoxicated enough that she’s already passed out.

“Seriously, stop it,” I say when he goes for my feet again.

“Can your boobs tell when it’s raining?” he says, quoting the movie as I shift so he can’t get to my feet.

I look down at my boobs. They’re awesome, but they’re not quite that awesome.

“No. I don’t think I have ESPN.”

“Tragic.”

“It’s my cross to bear.”

His hands start playing with my hair, twirling it around his fingers. It feels really, really nice, and I realize that this is the most physical contact I’ve had with another person in a long time. My parents were never really into hugging, and my brother would punch me sooner than hug me. Hazel is hands-on, but it’s different with Jett.

I close my eyes and his hands start massaging my scalp.

“I’m not going to get in trouble for this, am I?” he says quietly.

“Only if you stop.”

Screw the Rules for the moment. I’m enjoying this.

Jett ends up carrying me to bed again when I fall asleep as he’s stroking my hair. But this time he climbs in beside me, and pulls me into his chest. We spoon every night now, because we end up wrapped together like a twist tie by the morning anyway. Every. Single. Time.

This morning (or almost afternoon, if I’m being honest) I wake to find something pressing into my stomach and when I realize what it is, I almost shove Jett away. Poor guy. It’s not his fault. He’s wrapped around me, and extricating myself from this situation is going to be worse than defusing a bomb. The key is to move slowly and carefully enough that I don’t wake him.

First I pull my arm out from under his, and then start slowly pulling my legs away. If I can get myself on my back, then I’ll be good. I think.

But as soon as shift even the slightest bit away from him, his eyes snap open and lock with mine.

Hello, most awkward moment ever.

“Good morning,” I say, fluttering my eyes as if I’ve just woken up. I stretch my arms up and yawn. Jett’s jaw is clenched and I know that he’s wondering if I know about his little friend.

“Good morning, princess,” he says warily. I just smile at him and hope it looks natural.

“I’m starving. Want some breakfast?” I’m never this perky when I wake up, but I hope it doesn’t set off any warning bells. When I get up, I make sure that I don’t pull the covers too low as I dash to the kitchen.

I hear nothing from Hazel’s room. She’ll probably be passed out for at least a few more hours.

I get breakfast going and it’s a few minutes before Jett joins me. I can’t look at him as he goes to the coffeemaker to get it going.

“I hate staying out so late because then it throws off my whole day. It takes me at least two days to recover from going out. I swear, I’m like a little old lady. I wish I didn’t need sleep.” I’m babbling as I start mixing batter for waffles.

One of my favorite Christmas presents from Hazel last year was the waffle iron that made waffles shaped like penguins, and I use it as much as possible.

Since I don’t like just plain waffles, I’m making caramel apple waffles. Jett hasn’t had them yet, and I kind of want to give him something delicious to make up for the fact that he couldn’t control his penis this morning.

I have got to stop thinking about it. Thank God I don’t have to deal with crap like that. I’d seriously be walking around all day with a hard-on. A very tiny part that is getting louder and louder wants to ask him if he was thinking about me. But that’s weird. And very self-centered. I mean, back in the day, they used to cover up table legs because they were thought to arouse men, because they would then think about women’s legs. How ridiculous.

“Do you need any help?” I’m so busy thinking about Jett and table legs that I kind of forget about Jett.

“Could you spray the waffle iron and plug it in?” I whip the batter in the bowl to get the lumps out without over mixing it. Doing that is a sin that cannot be undone.

Jett is cautious of touching me, trying to keep at least a three-foot bubble around me that he doesn’t violate. It’s very different from last night when he’d been so far in my bubble that he couldn’t really get any closer. Unless he was . . . well . . .
in
my bubble.

I gotta stop thinking about this.

He pours me a cup of coffee, adding cinnamon and nutmeg, which is something that I only get to do at home. I love that he knows how I like my coffee.