Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 66865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I shudder at the memory of her bubblegum pink, coffin-shaped nails.
“Listen Teddy, with guys, you have to come out and say what you want. No gray area—guys don’t get it. And don’t fucking lie or beat around the bush.”
Teddy rolls her eyes. “Give me a break. How is that going to help me at a party?”
“I’m giving you pearls of wisdom here—would you listen? So what if it doesn’t help at your bartending job?”
“Shut up.” She laughs, though reluctantly.
“What I can tell you is what guys want, so don’t go to a party and start pouring their damn beer. Everyone will take advantage. Do you want to be known as the girl who hands out red cups?”
“No.”
“Do you want to be the girl who pumps the beer tap all night?”
“No.”
“Do you want to be the girl who stands in the corner talking to the social outcast?”
“The social outcast?”
“Yeah—me.” How was that not obvious? Duh.
But Teddy’s laugh is light and amused, which tells me she disagrees. “You’re hardly a social outcast.”
Maybe not, but only because everyone is afraid to piss me off. I might be an okay guy, but I look like the occasional street beggar more often than not, and that makes people uncomfortable.
Although, oddly enough, girls do hit on me often enough to confuse me.
I’m not going to argue those points with Teddy, though. She wouldn’t get why I do the things I do.
So few people do, because no one knows my secrets.
“Next weekend when you come to the house, I’ll give you some pointers.”
“Oh jeez.” Her blanket rustles. “Maybe I should just stay home.”
“Give up, you mean?”“No, I mean—maybe flirting isn’t my strong suit, especially at a house party. I’m way out of my league and we both know it. I should stick to libraries and coffee shops.”
“You’re not out of your league though.” Any one of those idiots would be lucky to hook up with a girl like Teddy—but that’s not what she wants, is it? To hook up?
Nope. Teddy is a relationship kind of girl, and that’s what makes her so damn different. Even I know she’s long-term relationship material.
She a wifer.
“Teddy, you’re kind of being a pussy about this whole thing.”
“You cannot keep calling me that.”
“Calling you what?” I know she’s not going to say the word that flows so freely off my tongue.
“A…you know.” I swear, she lowers her voice as if just the thought of the word makes her squirmy and uncomfortable.
“I have no idea what I always call you.” My eyes widen, lending an innocent air to my expression, which she’s probably hard-pressed to see in the dim light.
“You’re so full of shit, Kip.”
“For real though, enlighten me. I call people all sorts of things. Shitface, doofus, fucker.”
“The P word.”
“The P word, the P word…” I scratch my beard. “Pussy? When else have I called you that?”
“Uh—the first night we met? Like, four times?”
Did I? Huh. “Really, four times? That sounds so unlike me.”
Actually it isn’t unlike me, because I really do love that word. What guy doesn’t?
Pussy, noun: a wimp or someone who’s a total chickenshit. Won’t take risks, overthinks everything. Scared of their own shadow.
Pussy, noun: a cat. Furry kitty. Pet-able. Purrs when I stroke it—if I ever wanted to stroke a pussycat, which I don’t.
Which brings me to…
Pussy, noun: female genitals. Vagina. A place I haven’t sunk myself into in far too long, and now that I’m thinking about it, the dick in my pants gets stiff.
I’m uncomfortable in these thin, mesh gym shorts, which, in hindsight, were probably a bad idea—though it’s not like I planned to get a woody after I already jerked off once tonight.
Get your damn head out of the gutter, Sasquatch—the last thing you need is sex on the brain.
And sex with Teddy? Out of the question, even though I’d fuck her any day of the week if the circumstances were different.
But they’re not, and I’m going to graduate and be out of here, and then I’ll never see this place again because I’ll be working in corporate America and probably miserable.
And clean shaven.
Yay me.
“My services are available if you want them. No pressure.”
“What services. Are you a tutor now too?”
“No—the hairy godmother thing. Those parties are boring as fuck, and helping you would give me something to do.”
“I…I’ll think about it.” She laughs, pulling her hair into a ponytail and securing it with the rubber band wrapped around her slender wrist. Glancing over her shoulder occasionally, worrying her bottom lip, eyes darting to the kitchen and up the stairs. Almost agitated.
Strange.
“Uh, are you looking for something?”
She jerks her head away from the entry of the hallway, startled. “I’m sorry, I just keep expecting your parents to walk in. It’s making me nervous.”
“They aren’t here.”
“I know, you said that—I just think it’s odd that you live here. Alone. In this gorgeous house. Alone. What are you, twenty-one?”