Total pages in book: 12
Estimated words: 11130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 56(@200wpm)___ 45(@250wpm)___ 37(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 11130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 56(@200wpm)___ 45(@250wpm)___ 37(@300wpm)
“Oh,” I say, feeling silly.
Sam’s lips twitch. “See, look…” He leans in, lifting his chin and pointing toward the base of his jaw. “The scraggly parts are probably growing back in. It’s that time of night.”
I study the curve of his bone, down to his throat, where his pulse is visible beneath the skin. There are indeed a few baby hairs growing in. I see them right away, but for some reason I can’t drag my gaze away from his neck. I’ve been in the presence of this neck thousands of times before, but I’ve never noticed the thick muscles standing out along the sides or the graceful curve as it swoops out to meet his shoulder.
I’ve never noticed the golden perfection of his tan or the faint salt-and-something-spicy smell rising from his skin. It suddenly occurs to me that he smells delicious in a way nothing has ever smelled delicious to me before, not like something I want to eat, but something I want to…lick.
Or maybe to…kiss?
Heart catapulting into my throat, I rear back so fast I nearly roll onto my side.
“You okay?” Sam asks.
“Yeah, fine.” I swat at the empty air between us, stammering, “There was a fly. Sorry,” before adding in a rush, “And yeah, there’s hair there, but how was I supposed to know? It’s not like I live with boys. I mean, other than my dad, and he’s lucky if he can grow a moustache. My mom has more hair on her legs than he ever grows on his face, but thankfully I took after Dad so not a lot of hair around these parts. Except on my head.”
I realize that isn’t true, that I have hair in other places, too, places I was basically asking Sam to explore with his penis in five years if we haven’t managed to get laid by then, and my face explodes.
Okay, fine, it doesn’t literally explode, but I’m blushing so hot that Sam’s face swims before me as I squeak out, “Can we forget I ever said anything? This was a stupid idea.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Sam says, surprising me. “I think you’re right. A backup plan is a good idea. But maybe we make it…ten years instead of right after college? I’ll be on scholarship and need to keep my grades up. I’m not sure I’ll have a whole lot of time to figure out how to woo the opposite sex in undergrad, and I’ll probably end up teaching to make ends meet in grad school.”
“Ten years? So, we’d be…twenty-seven?” I wrinkle my nose. “That seems awfully old.”
“No, it’s not,” he says. “Think of all the idiots who still party at the glen with high school kids. They’re in their twenties and every bit as stupid as the rest of the meatheads.”
“But we aren’t meatheads, and we won’t be partying with teenagers when we’re in our late twenties. We’ll be leading normal lives, or as normal as possible considering we’re ancient weirdo virgins.”
“I bet lots of people are still virgins at twenty-seven.”
I arch a dubious brow. “Really? You think?” He shrugs and I grunt. “Okay, maybe, but I don’t want to be one of them, do you? I’m not sure what kind of sex I’m into, but I’m definitely into it. I’m not asexual, are you?”
He shakes his head and looks away with a sharp laugh. “Um, no. Not asexual.”
I grin. “You’re blushing.”
“Well, you started it,” he says, his gaze fixed on the pink horizon, where the sun has left us with a beautiful, hopeful sky, perfect for swearing oaths. “You’ve been fuchsia for the past ten minutes.”
I laugh again. “Guilty. But I think we almost have this figured out. I’m proud of us. We’re being very mature. How about we split the difference and say…twenty-four. If we’re still holding onto our V-Cards by twenty-four, we meet up and have some low-key summer fun, no stress, mess, or unnecessary weirdness.”
“How about necessary weirdness?” he mutters, still avoiding eye contact. Before I can respond, he tosses his cape over his shoulder and glances my way, “Because if this actually happens, I’m going to need to wear my cape the entire time. If that’s a dealbreaker, then so be it.”
I grin so hard my cheeks start to hurt. “Hell yeah, you will. I’ll wear mine, too. It’ll be awesome. And help keep things in perspective.”
His expression sobers. “And what perspective is that?”
“The just friends-helping-each-other-out perspective.”
He nods. “Yeah. Just friends.” His tone is a little off, I think, but then he smiles and adds, “Sounds good,” banishing the worried butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
I slap his knee. “Good. Then it’s settled. We have a stress-reducing plan in place for that part. Now, I just need to find a way to break the ‘I’m not going to major in medicine’ news to my parents and solve your problem.” I shift on the blanket and reach for a marshmallow from the open bag, popping it in my mouth and chewing as I add, “So hit me. What’s plaguing your soul? How can I help?”