Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
There isn’t a piece of me he doesn’t concentrate on.
It would be a tad dramatic to say I feel exposed, but… there it is in a nutshell. Him stripping me bare, in public, in front of all our friends.
Our eyes meet and his lips tip into a crooked smile. “How many times are you going to make me say it?”
I plant my hands firmly on my hips and smile back. “If you wanted to kiss me so bad, why did you have to invent a reason to do it? Jeezus. You are twenty-three years old. Aren’t we a bit old for games?”
“So you’re telling me I should have just done it?”
Jenna snorts behind me. “Duh.”
Matthew
I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but… sometimes guys (especially twenty-three year old ones) need to be told what to do and given the green light to make a move. I thought for sure after miniature golf at Galaxy Golf World, Cecelia had Friend-Zoned me.
It also doesn’t help that she hasn’t been throwing out signals (basically like most girls I knew); she hasn’t been throwing herself at me, and she hasn’t been coy. She’s been being her bratty, sarcastic self, and it’s throwing me off my game. How do I know she won’t knock a gap in my teeth when I make a move?
And come on - what was with all the high-fives and fist bumps that night?
I have no idea where I stand with her - especially after the whole BJ thing no one is going to let me forget. Call me insecure, but no matter what any guy tells you, guys do need to know they’re not going to be rejected (see: Shot Down).
If Cecelia had a little green ‘Go’ flag, now would probably be a good time for her to wave it around a little bit…
Cecelia has her hands planted on her hips, smile pasted on her glossy lips. “If you wanted to kiss me so bad, why did you have to invent a reason to do it? Jeezus. You are twenty-three years old. Aren’t we a bit old for games?”
“So you’re telling me I should have just done it?”
Jenna snorts from behind her. “Duh.”
“So what are you saying?” I ask slowly, confused.
Yes, I’m an idiot. Sue me.
Neve is behind Weston, his head bowed in disappointment, and Kevin has his lip curled at me like he’s just swallowed something sour.
Cecelia throws her hands up. “I’m saying what I’m saying!”
“Um….”
“You didn’t have to make a bet with me or make up an excuse to get a kiss from me.”
I fight the urge to scratch my head. “So what you’re saying is..?”
“Oh my fucking god man, shut the fuck up and just kiss her already!” We all turn our heads to see some random guy shouting at me. Around five foot seven, he’s wearing a white wife beater and jeans, waiting in line at the bar. He’s glaring at me, looking flagrantly disgusted. “I have completely lost faith in an athlete’s ability to get laid. You are a total disappointment, bro.”
Shaking his head, he pushes through the crowd and stalks off without even getting a drink from the bar.
There is a delayed reaction before everyone begins cracking up – Kevin hunches over, his loud, boisterous laugh echoing throughout the bar, while Neve grabs the wooden bar top to hold himself upright. Molly and Weston are, of course, laughing too, and Cecelia has tears streaming down her face.
“Oh my god,” Cecelia gasps, clutching her stomach. “You should see the look on your face right now.” More breathless laughter. “Oh man, Matthew. I should take a picture. I’m dying.”
Crossing my arms and giving them all the evil eye, I complain, “Yeah, that was real funny guys. And stop pointing your finger at me Kevin, it’s rude.” This starts another fit of raucous laughter, and they’re almost all keeled over, falling all over themselves in hysterical fits, still pointing at me.
Bunch of assholes.
Cecelia wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and reaches up to pat my shoulder. “I’m sorry but even you have to admit that was hilarious.” She bites her lip like she wants to add something else, but instead just says, “How random was that guy?”
“So random,” I deadpan, not even remotely amused. “Okay you dipshits, that’s enough,” I add, using one hand to shove Weston into a bar stool – which isn’t nice, but so what? It makes me feel better.
After everyone is done making the loud sighing noises you make when you’re just so utterly amused you can’t stand it, they finally get control of their wits. Ten minutes later: it’s about damn time.
Cecelia
At some point, a little voice inside your head (or maybe it’s the devil on your shoulder) whispers ‘What are you fighting this for? You want him to kiss you, admit it. Just let him do it already…’