The Infatuation (Josh and Kat #1 , The Club #5) (36 page)

I laugh. “Oh, really? Is that how this is gonna go
down? You’re just gonna keep fucking me ’til I forget all about
your application?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much the plan.”

“That wasn’t the deal,” I say, narrowing my eyes.
“The deal was you kiss me, you give me the application.”

“No, the deal was I kiss you; I
fuck
you; I
give you the application. I’ve kissed you. I’ve fucked you—and now
I’m gonna fuck you again and again (all part of the
approval
process, baby)—and
then
I’m gonna give you my
application.”

A wave of anxiety floods me. “Josh, you aren’t
really gonna try to weasel out of giving it to me, are you?”

He flashes me a megawatt smile. “Of course not. I
never go back on my word. That’s something you should know about me
right up front.” He touches my thigh. “My promise is ironclad.”

I exhale in relief.

“Don’t worry, PG, the review process will continue
only as long as we’re in this hotel room together. Just give me
this little bubble of time to fuck you without that shit hanging
over my head—and when we leave this hotel room, the review process
will be complete, your membership will be approved, and that stupid
application will be all yours.”

I make a face.

“Aw, come on, PG. I kiss you; I fuck you; I give you
my application. That was the deal. Remember? You said kissing you
would lead to immediate fuckery. I’m just taking you at your
word.”

I glare at him. I’m not sure that was the deal. But
sex with Josh is so freakin’ good, I’m not feeling the urge to
argue with him.

“Don’t fight me on it, baby, just enjoy the ride.”
He snickers. “
YOLO
, right? Wasn’t that the super-cool thing
you told me to say as much as possible?”

I roll my eyes.

“YOLO, Kat.
YOOOOOOOLO.
”

With that, he pulls the condom off his dick, slaps
my ass yet again, and heads into the bathroom—giving me my first
ever view of his beautiful bare ass... which, much to my shock (and
squealing delight), is stamped across its left cheek with four
tiny, but unmistakable, letters
.

Kat

“What the fuckity, Josh? You didn’t feel the
slightest urge to mention the ‘YOLO’ tattoo on your ass cheek when
I was going on and on about how ‘YOLO’ tattoos are social
suicide?”

We’re sitting in our underwear on Josh’s bed,
macking down on double cheeseburgers, fries, and Moscow mules from
room service, laughing hysterically and involuntarily wiggling our
bodies to the beat of the disco song blaring on Josh’s laptop (“You
Dropped a Bomb on Me” by The Gap Band, which Josh says is now his
official theme song).

“How the heck did you manage to keep quiet about
your tattoo? That must have taken Herculean willpower.”

“Meh, I figured it’d be best for you to find out
about it exactly the way you did—by seeing my ass in all its glory
after I’d fucked you.” He smiles wickedly. “So much more fun than
just
telling
you about it. Am I right?” He chomps a French
fry.

I laugh. “Why the
hell
do you have ‘YOLO’
stamped on your ass cheek, Josh? It’s inexcusable. Seriously, if I
had any self-respect whatsoever, I’d grab my shit and go.”

He laughs. “I lost a bet.” He takes a big bite of
his burger.

“What?” I shriek.

“I lost a bet,” he mumbles, his mouth full of
burger.

“Well, what was the freaking bet?”

He finishes chewing. “See, that’s the thing. I don’t
remember exactly.”

“What?” I shriek. “You got ‘YOLO’ tattooed onto your
ass-cheek and you don’t even know
why
?”

“Well, I know
why—
generally speaking. The bet
was over a quote from
Happy Gilmore
. I just can’t remember
which
quote we were arguing over.”

I smack my forehead with my palm. “Please tell me
you’re kidding. You got YOLO inked onto your ass over a quote from
Happy Gilmore
?”

Josh laughs and turns off the blaring disco song. He
looks at his laptop for a moment, searching for something. “Oh,
this is a good one. Listen to this—Jonas turned me on to these
guys.” An acoustic guitar suddenly fills the room. “X Ambassadors.
‘Renegades.’”

“Yeah, great song,” I say. “You were about to tell
me how
Happy Gilmore
led to your tragic ass-tattoo.”

He shrugs. “It’s embarrassing.”

“All the more reason to tell me.”

He rolls his eyes. “It was when I was at UCLA, when
I lived in my fraternity house. A group of us used to say ‘YOLO’
all the time, laughing our asses off about it, thinking we totally
made it up. And, hell, maybe we did, for all I know—several years
later, Zac Efron got ‘YOLO’ tattooed on his hand and my friends and
I texted each other like crazy about it, like, ‘Did you see Zac
Efron stole our thing, man? We came up with that years ago!’ And,
then Drake claimed he invented it in a song, and Reed was like,
‘Yeah, that’s ’cause the fucker came to my house for a fucking
party and we were all saying it!’”

I laugh. “You guys started a trend.”

“That’s what cool kids do, baby.” He winks.

“But that doesn’t excuse you getting it stamped onto
your ass, Josh Faraday. That’s just inexcusable. Seriously.”

He chuckles.

“Please explain this horrifying tragedy to me.”

He laughs gleefully. “Well, like I say, ‘YOLO’ was
kind of a thing with my friends and me, but only because we thought
it was super douchey and hilarious and stupid. And one night at the
house I was drinking beer with Henn and Reed and a few other guys
and we were throwing out movie quotes and guessing the movie, as
one does, and Henn threw out some quote from
Happy Gilmore.
I was like, ‘Dude, no, you’ve got it wrong.’ And he was like, ‘No,
dude, I have it exactly right.’ And I was like, ‘No, no, man, it’s
this.
’ And he was like, ‘No, man, it’s definitely this other
thing
.
’ And I was like, ‘I love you, man, like a brother,
but you’re wrong as shit.’ So we went around and around, both of us
positive we were one-hundred-percent right, until finally Reed
said, ‘Okay, dudes, put your money where your mouth is. Whoever’s
wrong has to get ‘YOLO’ inked onto his ass.’ Well, everyone in the
room lost his shit. For some reason, that was the funniest idea
we’d ever heard. So, of course, I was like, ‘Hell yeah. I’m in,
motherfucker.’ Because the chance to saddle Henn with a fucking
‘YOLO’ tattoo, and on his
ass
cheek
no less, for
eternity, was too good to pass up. And I guess Henn was thinking
the same exact thing about me, so he was like, ‘Boo-fucking-yah.’
So we shook on it and then Reed put on a DVD of
Happy
Gilmore
and found the scene with the quote, whatever it was,
and,
motherfucker
, Henn was exactly right.”

For a long beat, I’m laughing too hard to speak and
Josh is right there with me.

“That’s just... insane,” I finally choke out. “What
a horrible, horrible reason to get YOLO stamped on your ass.”

“Could there possibly be a good reason?”

I consider. “Yes. If Make-A-Wish called and asked
you to do it for some poor kid with cancer. That’s literally the
only defensible reason to get a ‘YOLO’ tattoo anywhere on your
body.”

Josh laughs. “But, see, the thing is I never go back
on my word—no matter what. We went out that very night to a tattoo
place in Hollywood and I did it.” He chuckles to himself, seemingly
at a memory. “Henn and Reed were laughing so hard the whole time,
they wound up on the floor of the place, sobbing like little
girls.”

“Well, I hope it was worth it,” I say. “Because
you’ve got that horrible thing
forever,
Josh
.
”

He shrugs. “Meh, there’s no such thing as forever.
Skin’s just temporary—we’re all gonna die, right? Sooner or later,
maybe sooner. And, yeah, it was totally worth it—in fact, it turned
out to be a very good thing.”

“How could a ‘YOLO’ tattoo on your ass possibly turn
out to be a good thing?”

“Because it’s a constant reminder to me of something
I don’t wanna forget.” He considers his words for a moment. “I was
so fucking sure I was right about that damned quote—and I was dead
fucking wrong. So I guess that stupid tattoo reminds me not to get
too cocky or comfortable in life—no matter how much I think my shit
doesn’t stink, I could always be dead wrong.” All joviality in his
demeanor is gone. He swigs his drink.

His face has turned dark. I bite the inside of my
cheek, unsure how to respond.

“And, hey, either way, it’s a good story, right?” he
adds. He’s obviously trying to lighten things up again. “So that’s
always a win in my book.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s definitely a good story,” I agree.
“And a very telling one, too.”

“Telling? In what way?”

“About you as a person.”

“Oh yeah? Pray tell—what does my YOLO ass-tattoo
tell you about me as a person? Besides the fact that I’m a total
dumbshit, of course.”

I chuckle. “It tells me plenty of stuff—some of it
kind of deep.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Well, this ought to be
good.”

I take a long sip of my drink, gathering my
thoughts. “Well, okay, they’re not
all
deep and profound
things—some are kind of, you know, online-profile-ish.”

“Tell me all of it.”

“Okay. Well, you were in a fraternity,
obviously.”

He nods.

“And you’re fun.”

“I am.”

“You’re a guy who’ll do frickin’ anything for a
laugh.”

He makes a face like that’s patently obvious.

“You’re an extremely loyal friend.”

“I am. Extremely.”

“You’re a man of your word,” I continue. “That’s
pretty deep and profound, I’d say.”

He nods decisively. “I am most definitely a man of
my word.”

“Unless you’ve promised to give a girl your
application to The Club after you kiss her.”

He rolls his eyes. “Patience, little terrorist. It’s
coming. The review process is just a bit lengthier than you
realized. Kiss, fuck, application, I told you—we’re still in the
‘fuck’ stage of the proceedings. What else?”

I make a stern face about the application, but he
looks so adorably charming, I melt. “Well, you like to party—or at
least you did back then.”

He holds up his drink, making it clear this
observation is still accurate and I return the gesture. We clink
our glasses and take giant swigs of our drinks.

“What else?” he asks.

“You like dumb comedies like
Happy Gilmore
,”
I reply.

He laughs. “Definitely
.
Oh shit.
Please
tell me you like dumb comedies. I should have
mentioned that’s a bit of a deal-breaker with me. No movies with
subtitles, please.”

“Of course, I love dumb comedies,” I say.
“
Duh
. I have four brothers, remember? Until I went off to
college, I didn’t know televisions were capable of showing anything
besides dumb comedies, football, and my mom’s HGTV.”

Josh laughs. “I really should have asked you about
your movie preferences before I fucked you. I got lucky, but it
could have gone horribly wrong for me.” He grins. “So what are some
of your favorite dumb comedies?
Anchorman
?”

I nod enthusiastically. “‘I love Scotch. Scotchy,
Scotch, Scotch,’” I say, doing my best Ron Burgundy impression.
“‘Here it goes down—down into my belly.’”

Josh belly laughs. “‘I’m kind of a big deal.’”

I giggle.

“So what’s at the tippy-top of your list of
favorites?” he asks.

“Well, in the modern era I’d have to say
Twenty-One Jump Street
is pretty damned high on the
list.”

“Ah, good one. ‘Hey, hey, stop fuckin’ with Korean
Jesus! He ain’t got time for your problems! He busy—with Korean
shit!’” Josh shouts, doing his best Ice Cube impression.

I laugh hysterically. “‘Chemistry’s the one with the
shapes and shit, right?’” I reply, doing my best stoned Channing
Tatum.

“‘Did you just say you have the right to
be
an attorney?’” Josh adds, laughing his ass off.

“‘You
do
have the right to be an attorney, if
you want to,’” I reply, and Josh laughs his ass off.

“‘You have the right to... suck my dick,
motherfucker!’” he says.

Oh, jeez. We’re laughing so hard we can’t
breathe.

“Oh my God, Kat—you’re a dude, through and through,”
Josh finally says, beaming at me. “A really, really hot dude with a
tight, wet, magic pussy.”

I bite my lip. Man, I love this boy’s dirty
mouth.

“So what about a classic?” he asks. His face is
glowing.

“Hmm. I’d have to go with
Zoolander
.”

He shoots me the “Blue Steel” male-model face Ben
Stiller made famous in that movie.

“Blue steel!” we both shout at the same time.

“Oh my God, Josh,” I say. “You’re the first person
I’ve ever seen make ‘Blue Steel’ look
good
.”

He laughs. “So is that it? Is that everything you’ve
figured out about me from my deep and profound ‘YOLO’
ass-tattoo?”

“Oh no, there’s more.” I look at him sideways. “You
clearly have a bit of an evil streak.”

“No, I don’t. Not at all. We’re talking about
me,
not
you
, remember?”

“Ha, ha.”

“Really, though, I don’t have a mean bone in my
body.”

“Ha! You were willing to tag poor Henn’s ass for the
rest of his life, for nothing but stupid yucks.”

Josh looks wildly offended. “How the fuck does that
make
me
evil? Henn was willing to do the exact same thing to
me—and, in fact, he
did
do it to me. That makes Henn way
more evil than me.”

“But Henn was
right
.”

“But I didn’t know that. Actually, the most heinous
person of all was Reed. He’s the one who came up with the
diabolical idea in the first place, just for his sick pleasure, the
prick.”