He crosses his arms over his standard issue T-shirt and leans against the hallway across from room four. “So, what?”
I poke his shoulder. “Aren’t you going to ask me out now?”
He breathes deeply and shoves his hands into the pockets of his shorts. He rocks back and forth on his heels as he shakes his head deliberately and clicks his tongue. “Nope.”
My shoulders drop. “Huh?”
As I wait for his explanation, his lips curl into a wide, sexy smile. “You said to be who I am and not put on a show for you, so no. I’m not going to ask you out now.”
Suddenly, I’m exhausted. “Oh.”
It takes me a second to notice that Dave’s moving closer and my heartbeat speeds up. He wraps his long fingers around the back of my neck, hooking me and pulling me toward him. He bends to look in my eyes. “I will kiss you someday, Magdalena. Someday when you ask me…no…beg me. And next time, I won’t blow it. For now though, I’m going to go to my room and set up my phone for you.”
I’m still hung up on the kiss talk until his twinkle eyes leave mine and look behind me into my room. “Meg?”
“Uh-huh?” Meg’s squeaky voice answers.
“Can you please write down Maggie’s number for me, so I can put it in my phone?” Dave’s hand massages my neck, his fingers pulling the hair at the nape.
“Uh, okay.” I hear her shuffle around the room.
Dave focuses on me again. “Are you sure you don’t want the gentleman? Real Dave can be a pain in the ass.” He flashes his rock star smile. The one he uses on stage where he’s so confident and happy-looking.
Wrapping my hands around his waist, I weave my fingers through his belt loops. I smile back and answer his question with a question. “Are you sure you don’t want fantasy Maggie instead of real Maggie? Real Maggie can be a pain in the ass too.”
“Real,” he whispers. “I choose real, even if we’re at the pet store, or in the hospital, or wherever we end up.” His hand moves from the back of my neck, his thumbs caressing my jawbone. “Now that I’ve touched you I know real is better than the fantasy any day.”
I can’t take the conversation any longer while he’s that close to me, twinkling and flirting. I pull him closer by the belt loops.
Even though I’m breathless, Dave seems unaffected as he stretches his arm behind me. “Thank you, Meg.” She must have handed him my phone number. He looks past me into the room. “Night, ladies.”
I glance back and see all three of them standing in the doorway, eyes wide and jaws dropped. They murmur niceties at Dave, but he’s focused on me again, lifting my hand to his mouth. He kisses it and says, “Night, beautiful.” Heat sizzles from my toes, up my legs, and straight into my heart.
He lets go of me, and I watch him walk away, the butterflies in my stomach chasing him down the hallway. When he reaches the stairwell and disappears, I turn and smack into the girls, who are right behind me, leaning out of the doorway watching him too.
“Wow. I think I love him.” Juliet points down the hallway. “All that sexy, and he can sing? You wanted to be reminded why you like boys? Well, there you go.”
Meg lifts her shoulders to her ears and pouts. “He’s adorable. I want one too.”
“Save some for me,” Pooja adds with a giggle. “You guys are a rainbow when you’re together.”
They yank me into the room, pulling me out of my trance. “What just happened?”
“I think you were charmed, Mags,” Juliet says.
“Or he was,” Meg says. “Have I told you that you’re awesome?”
I bite my lip. I’m not sure I’d describe how I feel as awesome. Maybe electrified? Terrified? Completely turned on? Maybe a combination of all three.
I shake my head to clear the confusion but I’m in no state to figure out Dave right now. I look past the girls to the mess on the floor and know what I need.
“I think I need more cake.”
Chapter 11
Dave
On Monday morning, I dress in my best pair of shorts and the T-shirt that makes my weirdly colored eyes look blue and type out my first text on my new, old phone.
Good morning, beautiful.
In a second, my phone screams an obnoxious ringtone. I’ll have to set that stuff up. I look at her reply.
Look at you, all modern with your texting!
Wishing she was standing in front of me, I smile at the phone like an idiot.
Can you help me set it up? I need music. And a sexy pic of you to flash across my screen when you call.
She texts back:
Music is easy. Sexy pic? Hmm. I can do sexy.
I laugh.
Yeah, I know. You make breathing look sexy.
There’s a pause, and I wonder if I accidentally shut the thing off or offended her. I look down as the phone chimes obnoxiously.
When do you plan on asking me out?
My face heats up simply reading the words, and I hate myself for being so damn pathetic. I want her to go out with me now, this minute, but I have to find my cool.
How about Thursday? My room. Eight o’clock?
The little bubble with the dots appears, and I wait. Please say yes.
You’re asking me out for a date in your room?
I smile at the stupid phone. She’s so cute.
No bees. No strays. No ex-boyfriends. Roommate will be gone. The door locks. I have wine and Scrapple.
There’s the bubble again. I debate calling her. This takes too long.
Scrapple? Hmm….
I scroll to my previous text. Shit. My texting skills need work.
Scrabble! I meant Scrabble! But if you want scrapple, I can find that for you.
Please don’t want scrapple...
Sounds perfect. Scrabble, not scrapple.
I’ll have to bribe Tucker to disappear and say a prayer that Suzi isn’t lingering next door waiting to pounce, but having Maggie to myself on my turf sounds damn fantastic.
Will you wear a dress?
I loved her tight sweats, but I love seeing her skin too.
Only if you wear a T-shirt and cargo shorts.
I’m addicted to texting her, and it’s only been five minutes.
Ha. Deal. I wish I could see you sooner but I have band practice the next few nights. Do you need me to pick you up a loaf of bread?
She texts back a smile face and a heart.
When I’m sure the conversation is over, I stick the phone in my pocket and reach for my guitar case. The textbooks stacked neatly on the corner of my desk grab my attention.
Even though I’d planned on going to the music lab to work on my composition, I should start thinking about my non-music classes if I’m going to put this win-Maggie-over game into play. I don’t want to be her dumbass, barely passing with a D average, boyfriend. She deserves better than that. Part of her hotness is that she’s a brainiac.
I put down the guitar and dig my backpack out of my closet. Monday. What classes do I have on Monday? I can’t even remember.
A glance at the books reminds me. Sociology. I grab the text, shove it into my backpack, and take off on my bike for the Social Sciences building.
Outside, the warm air feels heavy and humid. I’m reminded that summer will be here soon. I hate that Maggie and I just started hanging out, right before the long break. Maybe she’ll go home to the farm for the summer. If The Randoms get the shore gigs, I’ll be close enough to visit. Slow down there, tough guy. Who knows if Maggie will want to see me over the summer? Now that I’m able to speak around her, and now that we have a date Thursday night, maybe it’s a possibility.
As I maneuver my bike into an empty slot on the rack, I hear Suzi’s familiar voice. I look around and see her a few yards away, leaning against a tree. She’s talking to a guy.
He moves into my view, and I groan.
Winston.
He’s leaning close to her, moving his hands and explaining something. Who does this guy think he is? First, he gets Ma
ggie, the most gorgeous girl on the campus, maybe in the world. Now he’s going for our resident one-night-stand queen?
Suzi touches her forehead and her shoulders sag as he talks to her. He touches her arm as if he’s comforting her. Their body language screams drama.
Whatever the two of them are up to, it can’t be good.
Maggie
Mary Patrinski, the crazy motherload is not thrilled that I have a date. Why I even tell her, I don’t know.
“I thought you were taking a break from guys?”
I dab my lip gloss and roll my eyes at Megan, who’s sitting on my bed, flipping through my bio notes. Even through the speakerphone, I can hear the exasperation in my mother’s voice.
“I was, but then this stuff happened with Dave.” I try Pooja’s words. “You never know when love is going to come.”
“Love?” When she screeches, Meg jolts upright and grimaces. “You cannot think you are in love with this boy.”
“I’m not, Mama. I’m just saying. I like him. I can’t help it. He’s so sweet—”
“Please, Magdalena. You have the internship in a couple of weeks. I don’t want you to suddenly fall in love and risk your future by doing something silly—”
“I’m doing the internship, okay? Please don’t worry about me.” I know she means well, especially after what happened with Winston.
Megan rolls her hands at me, encouraging me to wrap it up. “Listen. I have to go.”
“You’ll call me tomorrow?”
“Of course. Kiss Martha for me.” My little sister is at cheerleading practice and missed my call. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
“Maggie?” Mom’s voice is soft.
“Hmm?”
She sighs into the phone. “Remember to protect yourself.”
“Ew, Ma—”
“I don’t mean just with sex. With your heart.” Her volume raises. “You come first, right? You don’t need anyone else.”
It’s my mother’s mantra. She grew up in a strict Catholic family and decided she didn’t want to get married, but wanted to have kids. Her parents almost died on the spot when she came home one day after a few visits to the sperm bank, pregnant with me. Then again, five years later with my sister. She did it all by herself from day one. She’s never wanted or needed a man, and she’s always been a little disappointed with my boy-crazy attitude.
“I can’t help it. It’s my hormones or something.” I turn to check my profile out in the mirror. I use my hand to flatten my dress over my stomach, curse myself for all the stress ice cream cakes lately, and make sure the back of my skirt isn’t stuck in my underwear.
Mom sighs and chatters about diet and exercise. Megan makes a gagging gesture from my bed.
I wave my arms at Meg and silently shush her, then interrupt my mother. “I love you. Talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
“We’ll talk more about this, buttercup.”
I mutter reassurances and end the call.
Meg dramatically falls back on the bed. “Sweet lord, how do you deal with her? Every time she calls, it’s like the anti-man campaign.”
Meg was raised by her aunt and then her dad and uncle, who were professional football players. She spent most of her childhood around men and has little tolerance for my mother’s aversion to them. Now that she’s dating Ben, I’ve been coaching her on dealing with moms so she can impress Mrs. Riley.
I throw the phone on my bed. “She’s accused me of being a sex addict.”
She leans up on her elbows, and her eyes widen. “Are you?”
“Of course not!”
“Well, Winston is okay, for…well…his type, but I can’t imagine being addicted to him.” Meg’s still bitter over my breakup.
“He was fine.”
“Fine?”
From her exaggeration of the word, I realize I said something wrong.
“Sex shouldn’t be ‘fine,’ Maggie. This is our prime. You need a lover like Niall. Like the guys in your books.”
I laugh. “Please. As if that exists. If you say Ben is like that, I’ll gag.”
“I won’t,” Meg says, then whispers, “but he is.”
I grab my stuffed cat off the dresser and throw it at her. “Gross!”
She holds the cat on her lap. “Is Winston the only guy you’ve been with?”
I turn to show her my made-up face. “How do I look?”
“Gorgeous,” she says. “Is he?”
“Last summer, when we were camp counselors and thought we’d never see each other again, we decided to be each other’s firsts.”
“You decided? You make it sound like a formula. Did you make a spreadsheet?” She often makes fun of my awesome organizational skills.
I roll my eyes. “Says the girl who had a sex contract.” Ben and Megan had an interesting couple of months trying out casual sex until they figured out they were in love.
“That’s different,” Megan says. “It wasn’t our first times, and we were just—”
“Horny. I know. Ben’s like a brother to me. I don’t even like picturing him like that.”
“Good. As for you, I hope you get into Dave’s pants.”
I smirk. “He only wears shorts.”
“You know what I mean. And I want details before Juliet and Pooja. You’re my roommate. I should have first priority.”
“Of course. But I have no plans for sex with Dave. Just a nice Thursday night date, Scrabble, wine. I barely know the guy. Stop pushing me into the sack.”
She gasps. “You don’t know, do you? That Scrabble is code for sex?”
I grimace. “Oh stop.”
“Ask Juliet. She and Chase ‘play Scrabble’ all the time.”
“Well, they’re weird.” I add another dab of gloss and check my hair for class. Meg always makes fun of me for glamming it up every time I leave the room. But I like looking as pretty as possible. I love makeup, clothes, and hair, so why wouldn’t I want to dress myself up? “We’re getting to know each other, that’s all. Talk. No nerves, no EpiPens, no sex, just talking.”
“Yeah, right,” she murmurs.
“Just because you jumped into bed with Ben the minute you had access doesn’t mean all of us are like that. Besides, I kind of like flirting with him. I think it’s cool how into me he seems. I wonder how he’ll be this week while we wait for Thursday.”
“I know how he’ll be. He’ll be a wreck with wanting you.” She walks to her desk, opens the drawer, and lifts a clear plastic bag full of condoms. “These are here when you need them.”
“Won’t need them.” At her smirk, I raise my eyebrows and shrug. “Alright. Thanks, roomie.”
You never know.
Dave
How is it possible for a week to feel like a year? I use the time away from Maggie wisely. Knowing what her skin feels like, remembering the softness under my lips—even if it was just her nose and her forehead—makes me want her more every day. But the space is good too. The space calms me down and helps me focus. I need to find my confidence and morph from mediocre Dave to rock star Dave by the time we have our date.
In the meantime though, I take advantage of my new phone, texting her at least a hundred times a day.
From sweet—
I can’t wait for our date night.
To flirty—
I’m so hot today. You must be nearby. Where are you?
To romance hero-ish—
I’m looking at the blue sky and only seeing your eyes.
To rock star-ish—
Thinking about you in the hallway pinned between me and the wall.
I regret my declaration that I won’t kiss her until she begs me because she uses it against me in the best ways. On Tuesday, she knocks on my door and holds out a piece of candy when I answer. “I got this for you,” she says with a grin. I thank her and take the candy. It’s a big red ball.
Then she bites her lip. “I just had mine, and the cherry exploded in my mouth. I’d love for you to taste it.”
> When my shorts tighten and my senses go on high alert, I hate myself for my dumb statement. But I keep my resolve and play her game. “Just say the word, beautiful.”
She shrugs. “Maybe Thursday. Bye, rock star.” I watch her sway down the hall and fight the urge to run after her.
On Wednesday afternoon, I catch her at the tree by the library feeding the squirrel. Damn if she isn’t the most gorgeous creature in nature. Blocking the walkway, I hop off my bike and stand there, watching her wiggle her fingers to the squirrel peeking from behind the tree. Her hair is all twisty and up off her neck, and she’s in a tight shirt that hangs off a shoulder. There’s nothing I want more than to kiss her, right there on the tan line that peeks out from the soft material, teasing me.
She turns her head and catches me looking. I make no secret that I’m checking her out. Slowly, I gaze from her head to her toes. My body aches to touch her.
When Maggie walks toward me, the campus disappears. She stands so close to me, leaving an inch between us that feels like a mile. She looks up, her chin held high and her arms crossed under that amazing chest, so sure of herself. It’s sexy as hell. “What’s up?” she asks.
I look down my nose at her, puffing out my chest. “Lots of things, beautiful.”
She lifts herself onto her toes and touches my nose. “You look like you want something.”
I try to keep a straight face, act like her closeness doesn’t affect me, but my mouth twists into a smile. “Oh, I want something.”
“Yeah? You should ask for it.” Her gaze lowers to my lips.
“Beg me to kiss you.” My words are desperate. I’m the one begging her.
She lifts herself even higher and leans into me. Her breath warms my neck. She whispers into my ear, “No.” When she kisses my earlobe, a ripple courses through my body right to my groin.
Then she lowers herself and turns, walking away with that sway like she’s a goddamn supermodel. A few steps away, she spins and waves at me. “See you Thursday.”
I stand there, holding my bike, and watching her walk away.
A hand grabs my shoulder. “You should probably close your mouth. Drooling isn’t the best look.”
She Wants It All: Sheridan Hall Series, Book Three Page 11