So, That Got Weird: A Painfully Awkward Love Story (So Far, So Good Book 1)

by Amelia Kingston

  He isn’t your boyfriend!

  It’s getting harder every day to think of Austin as just some playboy jock.

  An employee.

  I know this is nothing more than a job to him, but I can’t help feeling there is a connection between us. There has to be something here. He has to feel it too.

  “I’ve gotta be in the gym by six-thirty. I’m already running late.” Or, maybe not. I’m a sentimental idiot.

  The sun is coming up. I watch as Austin pulls on his jeans. I can barely make out the hard lines of his muscled body in the darkness, but I stare just the same. He turns and catches me watching, so I snap my eyes away. Hearing Austin laugh at me, I pull my knees up to my chest protectively. I’m so exposed. He notices.

  “I’ll be back tonight. Think you can survive the next twelve hours without me, Goose?”

  “Oh, are you still here? I hadn’t noticed,” I deadpan, rolling away from him. The bed sinks down as he crawls over to me, laughing lightly. His touch tingles my neck as he brushes aside my hair before he places a kiss below my ear. It’s becoming his new favorite spot. I’m a fan too.

  “Admit it, you’re gonna miss me,” he demands. He traces his hand along my side and grips my hip firmly.

  “Parts of you,” I quip. He laughs out loud. The rich, deep, sexy sound makes my heart beat faster. I love Austin Jacobs’ laugh. And many, many other parts of him. How many individual parts of a person can you love before you just love them? Maybe I should start counting, just to be on the safe side.

  Thing number one I love about Austin—his laugh.

  “Smartass. Rest up, Goose. I’ve got a date with that pretty little pussy of yours in a few hours.” He couples his naughty words with a chaste kiss to my temple. The combination has me desperate for him to stay. The words are in my throat, ready to beg him to come back to bed, but I can’t make them come out. I don’t move. I don’t speak. I lie there and listen to the sound of Austin getting ready to leave.

  I listen to him pull his shirt on.

  Say something sexy.

  I can’t. I listen to him open my bedroom door and step into the living room.

  Say something clever.

  I don’t. I listen to him put on his shoes and open the front door.

  Say anything!

  I’ve got absolutely nothing. I even hold my breath. Then he’s gone. I miss him already.

  How weird is that?

  I have a couple of hours before my first class at ten, but it’s impossible to get back to sleep. I roll around in bed, growing irritated and frustrated for no reason. My queen-sized bed is ridiculously huge with just me in it.

  I give up on sleeping and get dressed. I aimlessly wander around my apartment, too listless to be productive but too wired to do nothing. I can’t even focus long enough to play Rule Them All. Instead, I sit on my couch and count my movies. Fifty-six. I run updates on my computer. I take out my trash. I’m having a heated internal debate between organizing my sock drawer and cleaning my oven, two things I’ve never done in my life, when my father calls.

  “Good morning, Beth. I was expecting to get your voicemail this early.” He almost sounds disappointed that I picked up the phone.

  “I was up early this morning,” I explain myself cryptically, avoiding the mention of my sleepover with Austin. “How are things?”

  “Fine. Fine. I wanted to remind you about the dinner this weekend.”

  “Dinner?”

  “Beth,” he says my name like an admonishment. Two minutes into this conversation and I’m already in trouble for not remembering some dinner. “We are hosting a dinner party for family, friends and a select group of business associates. Better to get these things out of the way before the holiday season is here and everyone’s schedules become impossible to coordinate.”

  I hate how he says ‘we’, as if I have any interest in this stupid party.

  “Right. That dinner.” I roll my eyes, but try to keep the derision out of my voice. I hate going to these things. My mother used to be all about them. It was like we were gearing up to host the Queen of England with the way she obsessed over the smallest detail.

  I always feel like one more decoration, and not anyone’s favorite at that. I get dressed up, stand around awkwardly and try to make pleasant small talk. Most of the night consists of plastering on a fake smile while my extended family and my father’s friends make condescending remarks about me. It’s about as much fun as being the assistant to a novice knife thrower.

  “I expect you both to be here early. Cocktail hour will commence promptly at six-thirty.”

  I hold back the sigh perched in the back of my throat.

  Wait, did he say both?

  Both who? He can’t mean Austin.

  “Wait, both of us who?”

  “You and Austin, of course, dear. Are you feeling all right?”

  Nope. Nuh-uh. No way. Not happening. Negative ghost rider, the pattern is full. Ix-nay on the arty-pay. Hell will freeze over before I take Austin to my father’s dinner party. Even if I could convince Austin to come with me—and that is one hell of a big if—the last thing I need is him in a room full of my pompous family.

  “Sorry, but I don’t think Austin is going to be able to make it.”

  “Oh, and why is that?”

  “He has practice.” And by practice, I mean happily spending his free time away from his non-girlfriend-quasi-boss.

  “Stop being ridiculous. Of course he will attend. This party is more important than some football practice.”

  “His scholarship is dependent on him playing football. His practices are important.” At least, I assume they are, whenever they happen to be.

  “Relationships are about compromise and sacrifice. I am sure Austin can talk to his coach, explain the importance and escort you to dinner this weekend.”

  Oh good, just what every young woman wants, relationship advice from her father.

  “But I—”

  “Elizabeth Marie Wilde, we are done discussing it. I expect you both here at a quarter past six on Sunday.”

  “Yes, Father.” When he uses my full name, I’ve lost the battle. There’s no point in arguing. I’d be wasting my breath.

  “Good. Now, I have to go. I have a meeting.”

  “Bye.”

  “Goodbye, Beth.”

  I throw the phone down on the coffee table and collapse onto the couch in defeat. Would my father believe it if I told him Austin was in a freak accident? He couldn’t come because he was struck by lightning? Abducted by circus clowns?

  Couldn’t be any less believable than the truth—Austin didn’t come with me because he doesn’t care about me. He’s only hanging out with me because I’m pathetically paying him to teach me to have sex because I’m too weird and awkward to figure it out on my own.

  I’m lost in my imagination, thinking of the most believable unbelievable thing that could happen to keep Austin from coming on Sunday, when my phone buzzes. My breath catches seeing his name flash across my screen.

  Dork.

  Austin: Dinner tonight?

  Me: Is that an offer or a question?

  I hope it’s an offer. I love it when Austin cooks for me. There’s something sexy about a man who can cook.

  Thing number two I love about Austin—his cooking.

  Austin: Both?

  Me: Then, yes?

  Austin: That an answer or a question?

  Me: An answer, ass

  Austin: Good to know you’re just as feisty digitally as in person

  Me: Shut up

  Austin: I’m not talking

  Me: You know what I mean!

  Austin: Almost never. See ya tonight

  The short exchange with Austin leaves me with a big fat stupid grin on my face. I’m happy for all of five minutes, right until I remember the conversation with my father.

  * * * *

  I log into my game when I get back from class. Before Austin, I used to spend a couple of hours every
day working on Uforia. It takes a lot of effort to keep a country running, after all. A few days are a lifetime in game time. But now having Austin over almost every day, I haven’t even logged on in a week, other than to talk to Jackie. The little firecracker doesn’t let me forget it either. She hits me up in video chat as soon as I log on.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” she screeches at me. “I thought about calling the cops in case you were trapped under something heavy, like Austin’s cock.”

  I don’t respond to her taunting. It only encourages her.

  “Yeah, sorry. I’ve been out for a bit. School has been crazy lately.”

  “Bullshit. School isn’t what’s been keeping you up all night.”

  “Whatever, Jackie.” I don’t bother arguing with her. She’s right. Austin is what kept me up last night. And I loved every earth-shattering minute of it. “What’s new?”

  “Nothing much. Same old douche canoes needing to be reminded what manners are. I don’t want to talk about these jackholes. Let’s talk about your sexy slice of a man.”

  “I’d rather not. Has The Federation lifted sanctions against Cordovia?”

  “Well, I wish I could pee standing up and chocolate bars grew on trees. The secret to happiness in life is getting used to disappointment. And who the fuck cares about Cordovia? I want to hear about Austin’s big, beautiful cock.”

  “Ewww, Jackie!” I can’t keep my face from turning bright red. I hate it when Jackie pushes my buttons this bad. I wish I had better control over myself. “And technically speaking, chocolate does grow on trees. The cocoa plant whose scientific name is theobroma cacao—”

  “God, you’re such a nerd it hurts sometimes.” She doesn’t let me share my wealth of random plant knowledge. Guess we’re done with that topic. “So, did you try on that sexy little negligee for him last night?”

  “I did…” I trail off, hoping not to have to explain the rest of the night. My face will turn a whole new shade of red, previously not seen in nature.

  “And?”

  “And he took it off me and we fooled around.” I’m vague, but more descriptive than I was hoping to be. I doubt it will be enough to appease Jackie.

  “Tell me everything. Describe every girthy inch.”

  “I couldn’t say.”

  “Oh, come one. Give a single girl something to get through those long lonely nights.”

  “No, I mean, I really couldn’t say. He never got naked.”

  “Pump the breaks. You mean he’s seen all your little bits, but you have no idea what he’s packing underneath the hood? How’s that even possible?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I felt it. I just haven’t seen it. He said last night was just about me.”

  “Fuck me, that’s sexy. The last guy I was with came on my tits, rolled over and asked, ‘You’re good, right?’ Selfish prick. Isn’t it kind of weird you haven’t seen him yet? I mean, you guys have been fucking around pretty heavily for almost two weeks now.”

  “I haven’t really thought about it.” I have. A lot. I wrote a sex syllabus, for Christ’s sake!

  “What if he’s tiny?”

  “Believe me, that isn’t a problem,” I say without thinking. Jackie stares at me with her mouth open. “I’ve, you know, touched it.”

  “Naughty Lizzy!” Jackie giggles into the mic.

  “Shut up. This was all your idea,” I snap, extra annoyed at being called Lizzy.

  “Hey, no judgment here. I’m proud of you. And maybe a little jealous. I could use my own manwhore.”

  “He’s not a manwhore. Jesus,” I admonish her. I’m pissed. I don’t know why I’m so defensive of Austin, but I can’t seem to help it. “He’s a really good guy, actually.”

  “Is that so?”

  “He’s sweet. And funny. And…” I stop myself when I see the goofy smile on Jackie’s face. “What? What’s that look for?”

  “You like him, don’t you?”

  “Duh. That’s why I picked him.” I know what she’s getting at, but I blow it off, trying not to dig myself any deeper than I already am.

  “No, Lizzy. You like him like him,” she taunts in a high-pitched girly voice.

  “Don’t call me Lizzy. And no, I don’t.”

  Jackie gives me a knowing stare.

  “Fine. A little.”

  She crosses her arms and keeps staring at me, boring holes into my soul through the screen.

  “Okay. Fine. I like him. A lot. So what? It doesn’t matter.” I don’t mention that I actually love parts of him. As long as I don’t love too many, I’ll be fine.

  “Ha! I knew it!” She licks her finger and makes an imaginary mark in the air, keeping score of how many times she’s right. It’s a lot. “Just be careful, okay? Don’t forget, this guy is a major player.”

  “I know. Believe me, I know. I’m not planning our honeymoon to Niagara Falls or anything. I’m not delusional. It’s just…” I trail off, unable to explain how Austin makes me feel.

  “Just what?”

  “He’s…not what I thought, you know? He’s more than I imagined.”

  “Yummy. How many inches more we talkin’?”

  “Jackie!” I drop my face into my hands.

  “Whatever, you know you love me.”

  “I tolerate you,” I tease with an eye-roll.

  “Just remember, Lizbit, it’s supposed to be easy, dirty fun, not happily ever after.”

  “I know…”

  “I’m not just worried about you. I’m worried about myself. If he hurts you, I’d have to kill him. Then I’d end up in prison and I don’t think delicate little me would do well behind bars.”

  I snort, laughing at the idea of ‘delicate’ Jackie. “Please, you’d be running the place within a week!” We share a laugh.

  “True. But orange just isn’t my color.”

  I startle at the sound of a knock on the door before a wide smile forces its way onto my face. Austin doesn’t wait for me to open the door this time. He lets himself in. I have to admit, I’m happy he’s back to acting like he owns the place. I turn away, so he doesn’t see my excitement, which gives Jackie a clear shot of my eager expression.

  “Told you,” Jackie chides again at the sight of my smile and googly eyes.

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re always right,” I tell her with a sigh as Austin’s tall frame appears behind me.

  “Hi, Jackie,” his smooth voice calls out.

  “Hi, man meat,” she replies flatly. Austin chuckles. Yep, that’s my favorite sound in the whole world.

  “Bye, Jackie!” I chirp, closing the chat window.

  “Man meat?” Austin asks.

  “Yeah, that’s Jackie. Subtle as a sledgehammer.” I shrug noncommittally, which seems to be enough for Austin, who heads to the kitchen. “She asked me why I haven’t seen your you know yet.” I vomit up the words before I can think better of it.

  “My what?” Austin’s expression is stoic.

  We’re back to this. He knows exactly what I’m talking about, but he isn’t going to let me get away with not saying it. I need to warm up to it. I can’t just spit the words out.

  “You know you’ve seen all of me, but I haven’t seen all of you.”

  “You’re seeing me right now.”

  “You know what I mean, Austin.”

  “How am I supposed to know what you mean, when you can’t say the words, Elizabeth?” He locks his beautiful blue eyes on me in a challenge. That sexy little smirk crosses his full lips.

  Thing number three I love about Austin, and also hate—his irresistible smirk.

  “I thought we went over this last night.”

  “Fine. Penis. Penis. Penis. P-E-N-I-S. Penis. Why haven’t I seen your penis, Austin?” I cross my arms, beyond annoyed. He’s so exhausting.

  “If you wanted to see my cock, Goose, all you had to do was say so.” He walks past me into the living room and takes off his shirt. I’m sitting there, totally frozen, staring at him. I’ve seen it before, b
ut his body is amazing. His defined arms, his firm chest, his chiseled abs—every inch of him is delectable.

  “What are you doing?” I ask before kicking myself.

  He’s getting naked, you idiot! Now shut up before he stops taking his clothes off!

  “Getting naked, as requested.” He keeps his eyes locked on mine as he unbuttons his jeans. The slow tease has me in heavenly anguish, feasting on every newly exposed inch of his skin and hungry for more.

  “Right now?” I ask, swallowing a lump in my throat.

  Shut up! my brain screams at me. My heart is racing and there’s a growing ache between my thighs at watching Austin Jacobs strip in my living room.

  “Right. Now.” He hooks his thumbs in his boxers before sliding them off slowly, making a show of his little striptease. I try to keep my eyes above his waist for as long as I can, which is all of half a second. Apparently I have no self-control when it comes to Austin. I lower my eyes to his manhood now on full display in front of me.

  It is official. Austin Jacobs is a god and I’ve happily converted to the Church of Maverick.

  Praise the lord and pass the condoms. Hallelujah!

  “You doin’ okay over there?” he asks. There are no words left in my vocabulary. I’m incapable of formulating a response for several agonizing minutes. He’s undisturbed, confident as ever with his flawless naked self.

  “Yep. Good for you.” What did I just say? I think I’m having a stroke. Is that burnt toast?

  “Your turn.” Austin points at me with a panty-dropping smile while he literally asks me to drop my panties.

  “I’m good.” I spin around and face back toward the empty kitchen, desperately hoping he’ll let it go.

  Nope. He’s a dog with a bone. And by bone, I mean extremely large…bone.

  Austin wraps his arms around my waist and picks me up off the bar stool like I don’t weigh a thing.

  “Tonight’s lesson is getting comfortable in your own skin,” he says. He slips his hands under my shirt. I don’t stop him. I’m too distracted by the fact that he’s naked. And pressed up against my back.