That Boy (30 page)

Ah, I get it.

“So
are
you going to kiss me?”

“No,” I respond, shaking my head like it is the furthest thing from my mind.

I am so lying, because it's right up there at the top. All I can think about really.

“Well, how are you going to earn any stars? You strike me as a competitive girl.”

Oh, I am such a tease.

“I didn't say I wasn't going to kiss anyone.”

“Ah,” he says, holding his chest, “break my heart.”

Yeah, I'm sure.

“Actually I'm joking. I doubt I'll kiss anyone tonight.”

“What? Surely you don't want to be the ONLY girl here without a star to her name?”

He thinks this comment is like a dare to me. That I will be dying to get a kiss, so I can be like everyone else. I somehow doubt every girl here will get kissed tonight, but obviously he has yet to figure me out, cuz that sounds like a challenge to me.

“You know, I think that is
exactly
what I'd like to be.”

“So do you always get
exactly
what you want?”

Uh no, not really, but I think my luck is changing.

Matt is grinning at me like I'm the new Christmas toy he really wanted, but can't play with yet because he hasn't read the instructions.

“If I have anything to say about it, yeah, I guess I usually do,” I answer truthfully.

I'm feeling a little full of myself tonight, and I'm having fun.

And it's true. If I want it and I can do something to make it happen, I usually will.

Jerk boys who date sluts and car accidents are things I just can't control. Mr. Diamond has been telling me that over and over.
Only deal with what you can control, JJ.

“So let me guess,” he says, finally releasing my hand and pretending to hold an interview sheet to the side of his head like a psychic.

“Ah yes, I have it. Prom queen, cheerleader, dated the quarterback, voted prettiest eyes. Am I close?”

“One. You already told me you read my interview. And Two. Those things weren't even on there.”

“So humor me.”

“Ehh....50-50.” I hold my hand out flat and tilt it back and forth. “No to prom queen,
hell no
to cheerleader, yes to the quarterback,” I say with a roll of my eyes and then a pointed look. “But Jake turned out to be an asshole. And yes,” I say, batting my eyelashes, “to the eyes.”

Matt leans into me, pushes my long bangs out of the way and gazes straight into my eyes, “Yeah, total bedroom eyes.”

I try not to get flustered, but this guy is kind of unnerving me.

Okay,
really
unnerving me.

So I go back to being a smart ass, hoping to diffuse this time bomb standing next to me.

“How about you? Have you already picked your victims for tonight?” I lower my voice and whisper huskily, “I heard you're practically a legend around here.”

He shrugs and looks slightly embarrassed.

Figures. If I were a guy, he'd be entertaining me with stories about past victims, but since I'm a girl, the predator has turned into Mr. Shy and Innocent.

“So is there a record for the number of stars given out by one guy?” I say, changing the subject. But then I think and add, “Please don't say my dad.”

He chuckles. “Well, there are 2 records, actually.” He looks around, like he's about to give me top secret information, and then whispers meaningless names, numbers, and dates into my ear.

“And your personal best?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” He squints at me in irritation.

I decide to make him a bit more uncomfortable. I stand closer to him and poke my finger gently on his chest, “Hey, you're the one that wanted me to get to
know
you.”

He looks me in the eyes, trying to stall, but finally says, “It's private.”

“Okay, so now you've got me curious.”

He shrugs.

“Fine. I'll just have to take a guess.”

“Hmm,” I lick my lips then put my finger to my mouth and rub my bottom lip, supposedly thinking. Really I just want him to look at my mouth. “Practically legendary status, but no records.” I lean into him and whisper a wild guess into his ear.

I can tell immediately that I nailed it, or came pretty darn close. The instant shocked look on his face is a dead giveaway.

My, my.

“Seems like we
both
tend to get what we want.” I can't help but smirk at him. He is fun to tease.

He is embarrassed and obviously doesn't want to talk about it.

I look around and see that Phillip is kissing a girl with bouncy brown hair. Jeez, when did the boy learn to work so fast? Maybe this fraternity thing will be good for him. I mean, I'm very impressed.

I'm also half tempted to go
check in
with him right now, just to make a point, but I don't.

He should have some fun.

“So how am I going to get a kiss from you,” he whines, “if you won't kiss anyone?”

“Look, I promise, pinky swear,” I say, holding up my pinkie. “I owe you a kiss.”

“You know, I haven't quite figured out if I should attack you or go into businesses with you,” he says, as he grabs my pinkie with his.

I grin at that.

He laughs, and for the first time, I see a wonderful, genuine smile on his face. I like it. “Come to my room,” he says, in a silky voice, “I have some really good tequila. We'll do a quick shot or two.”

Sure we will, and what else will we
do
?

I am contemplating my next move, when a really great song starts playing. “Come on, dance with me first.” I pull his arm toward the dance floor.

He stands firm, pulls me back and says, “I don't dance until I've had a minimum of two shots. Sorry, it's a rule.”

“Well, rules were meant to be broken.”

But he shakes his head no.

So I take a different approach and purr innocently, “You mean you can't wrap your arms around me,” I gently run my fingers down the sides of his arms, “put your body close to mine and sway slowly,” I smile, close my eyes and sway slightly in front of him, “until you've had two shots?”

“It's not a slow song,” he says, but he is weakening, I can tell.

“Close enough,” I reply and drag him out there.

We dance slowly to the fast music and he takes full advantage of the closeness by letting his hands do a lot of roaming.

I don't mind it though. There's something about him that I really like. He's like, challenging. This isn't your typical, no brain, stupid game playing, but more like a chess match.

Your move, my move, your move.

I actually have to think about this.

I find it intriguing, and let's face it, most of the guys I've dated weren't exactly brain surgeons. This mental sparring is very stimulating.

In many ways.

After a few songs, I excuse myself to use the restroom and run some lipgloss across my lips. When I get back out, I don't see Matt anywhere. Maybe I scared him away. I'm half hoping that's the case.

I reach down and grab a beer from a cooler on the floor next to me. Just as I stand back up, I realize Matt has snuck up on me and is standing very close to my side.

I laugh and shake my head at his persistence, “Don't you have somewhere you need to be?”

“Yeah,” he whispers in my ear and holds his mouth there.

“Where?”

“
In you
.”

His voice is low and silky. I hadn't realized two simple words could sound so damn sexy.

But then my eyes get big at that comment when I realize
what
he meant.

Whew, is it hot in here all of a sudden?

Shit. I think I may be speechless.

That never happens.

I know.

I know what you're thinking. I am too.

It's a total line.

But I have to admit, it's given me goose bumps and made my stomach flutter. Plus, I love having my ear whispered into. Something so hot about that.

I recover from the blatantly suggestive comment, back up, and nod my head in appraisal. “A quick
and
a dirty mind. I like that.”

He swings around to face me, very much invading my personal space again and pinning me up against the wall.

“So am I ever gonna get this kiss you promised me?” He's practically begging.

“Jeez, you are so obsessed with a stupid kiss.” I roll my eyes at him. “Can't you just relax?”

He doesn't say anything, just looks at me with smoldering eyes. Eyes that leave me no doubt what the answer to the question is.

It's no.

Unequivocally, no. He can't.

Sweet
.

“Fine,” I say diplomatically, as I reach into his pocket to retrieve the marker.

He is looking both surprised and happy at where my hand is, but then looks disappointed when I pull out the marker and hold it in front of him. I make a grand gesture of taking the lid off. I grab his hand, write I O U A on his palm, then bring my mouth down to his hand.

I am being
so bad,
I almost shock myself.

I close my eyes and press my lips slowly into his palm.

I swear, I think I hear him groan.

Ha! Who knew practicing kissing your hand would ever pay off.

I open my eyes slowly, look at him through lidded eyes and hold his gaze for a few seconds. I assess the pink kiss mark on his hand and then drop it very unceremoniously. “There. You have it in writing. I owe you. Now, how about that shot?”

Yes, I do go to his room. Breaking one of Phillip's Rules.

But what the hell, right?

His room is decorated in typical guy. Crap tossed most everywhere. He walks over to a mini frig and pulls out a chilled bottle of some supposedly expensive tequila and a lime. He grabs two shot glasses, salt, a knife, and here we go.

In preparation for the shot, he quarters a lime, pours the shots and hands me the salt. Just as I'm about to lick my hand, Matt grabs it and slowly runs his tongue across it, all while staring straight into my eyes.

Wow.

He is so hot.

And his intentions are so clear.

He pours some salt on my hand and quickly does his own. We clink the glasses and down our first shot.

You know I'm wondering, does he always have this stuff lying around or was it purchased just for tonight? The good news is, I saw him break the seal on the tequila, so I don't have to worry about
anything getting put into my drink.

We do another shot, after he toasts to IOUs, and somehow I persuade him to go back out to dance.

See. I escaped his room without harm. I'll have to tell Phillip that his rules are stupid.

Or not. I would probably get a lecture on how lucky I was this time.

It's getting a little late and the music has slowed down. We dance some more, very close.

I'm feeling the tequila and dancing close to him like this is starting to drive me nuts. Time for that kiss, I think!

“So, are you planning on collecting that IOU tonight or some other night?”

He thinks I want him to ask me out on a date.

“Uh, some other night?”

“Wrong answer. Try again.”

This time he answers with a wide sexy smile, “Tonight,” he nods. “Definitely tonight.”

“Good. We're getting out of here though. If we're not in the frat house the kiss can't go on my record. Right?” I give him my best bedroom eyes, trying to convince him, although I think he'd agree to just about anything at this point.

He nods yes at me, and I drag him out the front door. We're barely out the door, when he pushes me up against the wall and tries to kiss me. I quick put my hand up to his mouth to stop him.

He looks at me with frustration. I grab the IOU and hold it up to his face.

“I owe
you
, remember? Not the other way around. Why don't you relax, and let
me
kiss you?”

I pull him around the side of the house. Behind some bushes.

Tacky I know, but hey, they were there.

I gaze at him intently. He follows my gaze down to the front of his oxford where I unbutton a few of his top buttons. I start the IOU by spreading his shirt open and kissing the upper part of his chest. Next, I move up to his neck, all very slowly and very deliberately. Eventually, I work my way up to his mouth.

I'm fairly sure I paid my IOU in full.

And I enjoyed it.
A lot.

I did leave the party later, much later, but with Phillip as planned.

After a few dates with Matt, whether or not I would
ever
lose my virginity was no longer an issue. We were pretty much inseparable. I was convinced that, just like my mom, I had met the love of my life as a freshman. Matt treated me well and had
almost
earned Phillip and Danny's stamp of approval. But when we got back from Christmas break, he informed me that he had
sort of gotten engaged
to a girl from home.
Sort of
meaning:
I gave her a ring, she's planned the wedding, bought a dress and booked the church for June
. I have to admit, I was crushed. I really thought he was the
one
. That's also when Phillip decided to tell me he always knew Matt was too slick to be trusted. I asked Phillip to please give me an honest opinion of the next guy at the
beginning
of the relationship, otherwise to
keep his big mouth shut
with the
I told you so's
when it ended.