“I think it’s good.” I’m lying. Enduring this film is the equivalent of watching paint dry. Not even the pot we just smoked can make this experience even the slightest bit enjoyable, but I don’t want to admit that I’d made the wrong choice. You can’t give a guy like Dean the win. Ever. He’ll lord it over me until the end of time.
“There’s no way you like this movie,” he challenges.
“I do,” I insist.
He stares me down for several seconds, but my acting skills come in handy, allowing me to convey pure innocence.
“Well, I don’t. This is a whole new level of brutal.”
I offer a helpful suggestion. “Why don’t you go upstairs and jerk off again?”
Shit. Wrong thing to say. His green eyes instantly take on a seductive glint.
With a lazy grin, he leans toward me and drawls, “How about you do it for me?”
This guy is incorrigible. “Are we back to this? Do you ever take no for an answer?”
“I’m not familiar with that word. Nobody’s ever said it to me before.” He moves closer again, resting his palm on the cushion between us and giving the fabric a slow stroke. “Come on, let’s make this party more interesting. We’re home alone…we’re both good-looking…”
I snicker.
“It’ll be fun. Sex is always fun.”
“Pass.”
“Okay, no sex. How about just oral?”
I pretend to think it over. “Am I giving or receiving?”
“Receiving. And then giving. Because that’s how it goes.” He smiles broadly. “You know, the circle of life and all that.”
I can’t help but laugh. Say what you want about this guy, but at least he’s entertaining. “Pass,” I say again.
“Wanna make out?” he asks hopefully.
“Nope.”
“I’m a really good kisser…” He leaves that hanging as if to entice me.
“Ha. That just means you’re not. Every time a guy says he’s a good kisser, he sucks.”
“Yeah? You got any empirical evidence to back that up?”
“Of course.” I really don’t. And Dean knows the word empirical? Wow, maybe there is more than air inside that pretty head of his.
He looks ready to argue with me, but we’re interrupted by a loud burst of music from his phone. I scowl when I recognize the tune.
Men. They can’t take one second to put the toilet seat down, but they have the time to program the ESPN theme song as their ringtone?
Dean’s expression brightens when he sees who’s calling. He answers without delay. “Maxwell! What’s shaking?” He listens, then shoots me a hopeful look. “Wanna go to a party?”
I shake my head.
The person on the other end of the line is forced to endure Dean’s overly dramatic sigh. “Sorry, man. I can’t. I’m babysitting—”
I smack him on the arm.
“—and she doesn’t want to go,” he finishes as he glares at me. He pauses again. “No, she’s fully grown.”
What?
“I’m babysitting an adult, dude. G’s girlfriend’s friend.” Dean rambles on as if I’m not even in the room. “We’re watching this movie about a lady with cancer and it sucks…well yeah, cancer sucks in general. I mean, all my sympathies for people who have it, but this movie is god-awful. Yeah…no, game’s on Tuesday…truth…yeah, definitely. We can hit up Malone’s. Later, bro.”
He hangs up and turns to scowl at me. “I could be at a party right now.”
“Nobody’s forcing you to hang out with me,” I point out.
“I’m trying to be nice to you, on account of your poor broken heart and all. But is there any gratitude on your part? Nope. You won’t even kiss me.”
I lean in and pat him on the shoulder. “Aw, honey-pie. I’m sure any girl in your phone’s contact list would be happy to come over and stick her tongue in your mouth. I, on the other hand, have standards.”
“What, I’m not good enough for you?” He lifts his eyebrows. “I’ll have you know, your friend Wellsy loved kissing me.”
I snort. “Oh, you mean that peck she gave you so Garrett wouldn’t know how much she liked kissing him? Yeah, I know all about it, sweetie. That was a desperation kiss.” Though it still boggles my mind that Hannah actually kissed this guy. Dean is so not her type.
Then again, I never thought hockey superstar Garrett Graham was her type either, and look at them now. Soulmates.