Page 7

Three
Patrick
Class started twenty-five minutesago and missing that test is going to cost me. I could’ve made it if we hadn’t stopped for breakfast. Probably still could’ve made it if Tess and Con hadn’t been there—but we did and they were. But if I’m honest, right now, I don’t really care. I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun.
“So, what’s their deal?” Cari says from the seat next to me. Breakfast is over and we’re finally back on the road, battling rush-hour traffic that’s turning a forty-five-minute drive into a two-hour trek across the universe.
I don’t really care about that either.
“Tess and Con?” I say, shooting her a quick look. “You mean, why aren’t they together?” She’s not the first girl to ask, trying to get the all-clear before making a move on Conner. But giving it has never bothered me this much before.
She laughs. “Yeah—they seem perfect for each other.”
“They are,” I agree with a shrug. “That’s the problem.”
I watch her brow furrow from the corner of my eye. “I don’t get it.”
“It’s hard to explain,” I tell her, trying to find a way to clarify a relationship that defies clarification. “Tess is the one girl Conner would never make a move on.”
“Why?” Cari says, a puzzled look on her face. “She’s smart, funny and freakin’ adorable.”
Tess? Adorable? I suppress a laugh. “He loves and respects her too much,” I say, because there’s no other way to explain it. “Like a sister.”
“Really?” Cari arched an eyebrow at me. “Because talking about getting in her pants made up about 75% of their conversation.”
“That’s Con and Tess.” I’m the one who’s laughing now. “He runs his filthy mouth and she insults him. Like you said—they’re perfect for each other.”
We spend the next hour crawling across Boston at fifteen miles an hour, talking about everything from music and movies to what we see ourselves in five years. We’re both small-town college transplants—I grew up in up-state New York. She was raised in Ohio—and we both like thin crust pizza, prefer Abbott & Costello to the Three Stooges and hate Tom Brady. The conversation peters out and we sit for a while, neither of us talking. She’s looking at her hands and chewing on her lip like she has something to say.
“Can I ask you a question,” she says in a rush. “You don’t have to answer, but…” I can tell by the flush creeping up her neck beneath the collar of her shirt what she’s about to ask. She’s going to ask me if Con has a girlfriend or is seeing anyone or thinks she’s hot. I’m nothing if not my cousin’s perpetual wingman.
“Shoot.”
“Why did your cousin keep calling you Boogey Nights?”
Jesus. I nearly swallow my tongue—have to literally force it out of my throat so I don’t choke and pass out in the middle of cross-town traffic. Seriously? Why can’t she just ask me about Con’s relationship status like every other girl on the planet?
“Because Conner’s an asshole who experiences joy at the discomfort and embarrassment of others,” I tell her.
Because this girl doesn’t seem to know when to quit, she double-downs. “People kept shouting it all night and then—ohhh,” I can feel her gaze zeros in on my lap. Because it’s also an asshole that experiences joy at the discomfort and embarrassment of others, my cock twitches under her heavy stare. “You’re the guy Rob made strip in the kitchen.” Realization dawns and a flush creeps up her neck from under the collar of her shirt. “The guy with the…”
Enormous dick. “Roller skates? Raging coke problem? Best friend who wants to be a famous magician? Yeah, that’s me.” I deflect and thankfully, she lets me. Clearing my throat, I change the subject. “Can I ask you a question?”
The question is intrusive enough to draw her attention away from the front of my shorts. “Why am I dating Rob?”
“More like how,” I say. “Rob and I have been roommates for almost two years and I’ve never seen you before tonight. I didn’t even know he has a girlfriend.” As soon as I say it, I want to kick myself. “That didn’t come out right. What I mean is—”
“It’s okay,” she says, offering me a smile that looks too practiced to be genuine. “Rob and I met over the summer—his friend is dating my roommate—and we just started hanging out.” She shrugs. “It’s not that serious.” She rolls her eyes. “I don’t even know why I got so upset over catching him with that girl.” She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself that what she’s saying is the truth. For some reason, the fact that she’s making excuses for that asshole pisses me off.
“He’s not a good guy, you know,” I blurt out because, apparently, putting my foot in my mouth is my signature move when it comes to this girl.
“I know.” She sighs, gaze aimed out the passenger side window. “Unfortunately, good guys are hard to come by.”
I’m a good guy. I want to say it but somehow I manage to stop myself from making a total ass of myself. Instead, we spend the rest of the car ride in silence. When I finally pull into her driveway, next to a beat-up, powder blue Carma Ghia. It’s nearly nine in the morning and the house seems quiet, making me wonder who she lives with.
I put the car into park and look at her, intent on apologizing. Her relationship with Rob is none of my business. No matter how much I like her.
“Hey, look...” I say, turning in my seat. I watch her take off her seatbelt. “I shouldn’t have said anything about you and Rob. It’s none of my—”
And then she’s kissing me.
She leans across the gear shift, laying her hand on my thigh, fingers brushing, almost carelessly, against the shaft of my cock and it hardens instantly. Her lips are soft, slightly parted. Her tongue slips into my mouth, rubbing and sucking against mine. Her teeth, nipping and grazing until I’m fucking drowning in her.
My hands lock around her upper arms and I keep them there because I want to drag her into the backseat of my car and get her naked. I wanted her to straddle me, impale herself on my cock and fuck me stupid in her driveway. In broad daylight. But guys like me rarely get what we want. We’re usually too worried about doing the right thing and while she’s not fall down drunk, she’s not sober either. Dragging her anywhere is definitely off limits. Before I can push her away, she beats me to it, pulling back to look at me, waiting for me to say something. Do something.
I let her go. That’s what I do. “It was nice to meet you, Cari.” That’s what I say. The most amazing girl I’ve ever met just had her tongue in my mouth and her hand on my cock and I say, nice to meet you.
I should’ve gone with my first instinct and thrown myself into traffic when she asked me about my dick.
She sighs, the breath of it skates across my mouth, just before she gives me a soft smile. “Thanks for the ride, Patrick,” she says, trailing her fingers across my obvious erection as she goes. She slips out of my car and leaves me sucking wind while she walks up the drive without a backward glance.