Misadventures on the Rebound

by Lauren Rowe

  Aiden shrugs. “Derek screwing another woman?”

  I’m flabbergasted. “How the hell did you know that?”

  “It just seemed like the logical ending to this story.”

  “Man, you do have street smarts, don’t you?” I shake my head. “I didn’t see that one coming at all.”

  “Sorry. He took you to a mountain to say ‘I love you’? Sounds like a douche.”

  I laugh. “And you want to know the worst part of it? Derek didn’t just cheat on me with that woman today. Clearly, he shamelessly played me like a freakin’ fiddle, right from the start. About a month ago, I told Derek the pathetic, embarrassing story of how I got humiliated in high school by the captain of the football team and that I haven’t had casual sex ever since. Not even once. So, obviously, he decided to say whatever he had to say to get into my pants.”

  I look at Aiden, expecting him to be smiling with me. But he’s not. On the contrary, Aiden looks…highly disappointed. And, suddenly, it occurs to me I just told him I haven’t had casual sex since high school. Oh, my God. Why did I say that? Clearly, the logical implication of that statement is that I’m not open to having casual sex with him tonight! And that’s simply not true! Yes, the old Savvy Valentine swore off casual sex, thanks to Mason Crenshaw, but the new Savvy Valentine, the woman born today on top of that mountain, is a crazy, reckless, unpredictable woman with no more fucks to give! No. Actually, she’s a woman with only casual fucks to give! “Hey, can I clarify something?” I blurt, my cheeks blazing. “I’ve got no prohibition against casual sex. The old me used to have sex only in committed relationships. That’s why I said that to Derek. But now, after today, I’m thinking I’d much rather have casual sex with a guy who’s up front with me than get sweet-talked by a liar who only wants to get laid.”

  Aiden brings his drink to his lips, but he can’t hide his amused smile. “Okay. Thanks for the clarification.”

  Oh, man. He’s sexy. “Just thought you should know that.”

  “Duly noted.” He winks. “So how old are you, Savvy? Twenty-three?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “You said you’re headed to your five-year high school reunion.” He taps his temple. “Street smarts.”

  “Damn. I guess those suckers can really come in handy, huh?”

  We both chuckle.

  “How old are you?” I ask.

  “Twenty-four.”

  “Did you go to your five-year high school reunion last year? Got any tips for me?”

  “I didn’t have a reunion,” Aiden says. “Because I didn’t graduate. I dropped out of high school at sixteen. Got my GED a few years later. I’m dyslexic and didn’t realize it until I was nineteen. Up until then, I thought I was just an idiot.”

  “Oh, my gosh. How horrible that it took so long for you to get diagnosed.”

  He shrugs. “High school wasn’t my bag, anyway.”

  I’m genuinely surprised by that statement. Aiden looks like the kind of golden god who’d be voted prom king at any high school across America. Not to mention his stunning physique suggests he was a star athlete in every sport.

  Aiden levels me with his ocean-blue eyes. “So what happened that one time you had casual sex with the captain of the football team in high school? Something tells me it’s a good story.”

  “Well, I don’t know if it’s a good story. It’s certainly an embarrassing story, like I said.”

  “Embarrassing stories are the best stories. Especially when they involve sex.”

  “Yeah, but this one is, like, DEFCON-one level embarrassing. The story begins with me in a chicken costume and gets worse for me from there.”

  He chuckles. “Well, shit, now you’ve got to tell me the story. I love chickens.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “It’s true. I had a little chicken coop in my backyard when I was growing up.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yup.”

  “How many chickens did you have?”

  “A dozen or so at any given time.” He grins. “I ate a lot of eggs growing up.”

  “Ah. That explains all that.” I motion to his muscular body. “It’s all that protein you had in your formative years.”

  He laughs.

  “Where did you grow up?” I ask.

  “Tennessee. Just outside Nashville. I moved to California at fourteen.”

  “I thought I heard a little country boy in there.”

  “Yeah, my Tennessee tends to seep out a bit when I drink. Sorry, imbibe. When I’m stone-cold sober, I pass for a California native.”

  “Why on earth would you want to pass for a California boy? I think that little bit of Tennessee in your voice is sexy as hell.”

  Aiden levels me with a blue gaze that lights my panties on fire. “You think?”

  My clit throbs like a jackhammer. “I do. I really, really do.”

  He laughs. “Good. Thank God this crazy attraction I’m feeling is mutual.”

  Oh, man. That’s it. My lady boner is at full mast. If this boy were to ask me to “get out of here” and head to the motel down the road right now, I’d say fuck yes. In fact, I’m tempted to invite him to my room right now…

  Aiden leans forward, his blue eyes trained on mine. “Tell me your embarrassing story, chicken girl,” he whispers. “And, please, don’t leave out a single embarrassing detail.”

  Every cell in my body is wigging out. Every hair on my head. My nipples are hard. My crotch is pulsing. I want to have sex with this man. I take a deep, steadying breath and clear my throat. “Okay, I’ll tell you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But only because you’ve said you’ve got a soft spot for chickens.”

  He chuckles. “I do. Hand to my heart, I do.”

  I open my mouth to begin my story, but Aiden raises his palm.

  “Sorry. Hang on. How ’bout you tell me your story over tacos and beer down the road? My stomach’s growling like a grizzly bear, and I want to make sure I give you my undivided attention.”

  “Great idea. I don’t know how it’s possible after the burrito I had earlier, but I’m pretty hungry, too.”

  Aiden rises from his chair, gallantly puts out his hand, and pulls me up. “Let’s do it,” he says, smiling. “The night is young and beautiful and so are we, chicken girl. So let’s go paint that taco stand red.”

  Chapter Three

  Savannah

  Beer, beer, and more beer. Chips and salsa. Guacamole. Tacos. Smoldering looks and heated glances and hard nipples and a throbbing crotch. That’s what’s been on the menu at the Mexican place for the past hour and a half. Oh, and me babbling about everything I’ve been dying to get off my chest all day long. No, actually, for the past six months, ever since I heard the shattering news about my father and his secret family.

  To start with, I told Aiden the story of how I lost my virginity to Mason Crenshaw five years ago at that Halloween party—the whole fowl story, you might say. And Aiden’s reaction was so beautifully sympathetic, so compassionate and nonjudgmental, I found myself actually laughing with him about the embarrassing fiasco. Indeed, I felt so comfortable baring my soul to Aiden about Mason Crenshaw, I then launched into telling him the entire story of my father, too.

  “When the shit hit the fan about my dad’s mistress,” I say, “he left my mom and started living with her and her two kids. I heard he married her last month.”

  Aiden looks sympathetic. “You had no idea he was juggling this whole other life?”

  “None. And neither did my mom.”

  “How is your mom doing?”

  “Pretty good, actually. She lives with her sister in Phoenix now. The craziest part is my dad isn’t some kind of Casanova. If you met him, you’d never think he could pull off having a secret life for five years. He’s the head of the math department at UNLV. A really well-respected mathematician. Growing up, I idolized him.”

  “What’s your relationship like now?”

  I refl
exively touch the ruby ring on my finger. “Nonexistent. I told him if I want to talk to him, I know where to find him at UNLV.”

  “Are you planning to see him while you’re staying in Vegas?”

  “No. When I originally booked my room at the Bellagio for three nights, my plan was to hang out with my dad for a couple days before the reunion. But, obviously, I don’t want to see him now.”

  Aiden looks pained. He pushes his empty taco plate to the side and places his tattooed forearms onto the table. “You’ve had a rough go of it with men, haven’t you, chicken girl? Mason Crenshaw, your dad, and now Derek?”

  I nod and stuff down the lump suddenly forming in my throat.

  “Please, accept my sincerest of apologies on behalf of my gender. We’re not all douchebags and liars.”

  “I know that. I’ve known some really wonderful men in my life. I’ve just had a string of bad luck lately.”

  Aiden assesses me for a long moment. “So what’s your plan now when it comes to men? Are you gonna swear off them for good or what?”

  “No, I’m a hopeless romantic, unfortunately. Probably due to my last name. But I will say one thing: from now on, I’m going to stay firmly inside my safety zone when it comes to men.” My heart lurches into my mouth. “When I’m looking for an actual boyfriend, that is,” I sputter. “Obviously, not when I’m possibly looking to have a one-night stand with a sexy stranger I met in a bar in the middle of nowhere.”

  A huge smile begins spreading across his face, but he lifts his beer bottle to his lips to hide it.

  We’re silent for a moment, both of us exchanging flirtatious looks.

  “What did you mean you’re going to ‘stay inside your safety zone with men’?” he finally asks.

  “From now on, I’m going to go back to dating the kinds of guys I dated in college. When I was at Stanford, I only dated guys who—”

  “You went to Stanford?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow. Isn’t that where the Facebook guy went to college? You weren’t kidding about those book smarts.”

  “I think you’re thinking of the Snapchat guy. He went to Stanford. The Facebook guy, Mark Zuckerberg, went to Harvard but dropped out.”

  “Oh. Okay. Well, either way, you’re obviously not a dumbshit.”

  I laugh. “No, I’m not. When it comes to book smarts, as I mentioned.”

  “And that’s all our zombie apocalypse team needs you for, sweetheart. I’ve got the street smarts covered, trust me. We’re good.”

  “Phew. So relieved. I’d sure hate to get eaten by a zombie.”

  Aiden chuckles. “I’m sorry I interrupted you. Continue. At Stanford, you only dated guys who…”

  “Who perceived me as being way, way, way out of their league. Total nerds with zero game who felt like being with me was the equivalent of being with Kate Upton.”

  Aiden looks appalled. “You were attracted to guys like that?”

  “What? You’ve got something against nerds? Because, news flash, I’m a nerd.”

  “I’ve got absolutely nothing against nerds, especially if you’re one. What I’ve got something against is you—or anyone—settling for being with someone when you feel zero chemistry.”

  “I didn’t say I felt zero chemistry with my college boyfriends.”

  “You felt chemistry with them?”

  “No,” I admit. “Not at all.”

  He scowls. “Then you shouldn’t have been with them. No matter how ‘safe’ you think you want to be, if you’re with someone who doesn’t get your motor running like crazy, someone you consider a charity case, then your soul will eventually wither and die along with your sex drive.”

  “Charity? Who said anything about charity? My boyfriends in college were sweet and kind. They treated me well. Did I care one way or the other about having sex with them? No, to be honest. I didn’t. But I knew they’d never, ever dump me and that was of paramount importance to me. I felt safe.”

  “Safety is your paramount goal when dealing with members of the opposite sex?”

  “In a relationship? Absolutely. Knowing I won’t get hurt is far more important to me than feeling some crazy physical attraction, any day of the week.”

  Aiden is aghast. “You’re assuming the two things are mutually exclusive—feeling safe and having physical attraction.”

  I consider my answer for a moment and realize that, yes, I do consider the two concepts mutually exclusive. “That’s been my experience, yes,” I say. “Life is full of tradeoffs. That’s one of them, and I’m perfectly fine with that. The safest boys make the best boyfriends.”

  Aiden looks absolutely floored. “Did you at least become physically attracted over time to the guys who—”

  “No.”

  Aiden’s mouth hangs open for a moment. “Jesus, Savvy,” he mutters. He rubs his forehead. “Look, I know you’ve been fucked over by men. I get that. But you can’t date guys simply because you’re sure they won’t dump you. You should be experiencing white-hot chemistry, every time. Find yourself a guy who makes you see God.”

  I shrug. “There are varying approaches to dating. This particular approach suits me and my needs. Case in point, I strayed from my safety zone with Derek the Douchebag, and look where that got me. He played me for a fool.”

  “Did he make you see God?”

  I snort. “No. Not even close. But he was, you know, highly physically attractive, so I didn’t view him as a safe bet. And, clearly, he wasn’t one.”

  Aiden rolls his eyes. “Seriously, Savvy. This is pathetic, no offense. Why date anyone at all if your only goal is not getting dumped? That’s like hiking up a mountain with the sole goal of not falling off a cliff. You should climb to feel alive. To reach the peak. Not to not fall off the edge.”

  “Okay, that’s a horrible analogy. Having hiked up a mountain earlier today, I can confidently tell you that not falling off the edge was a hugely important part of the experience.”

  “Yeah, but not falling off isn’t why you went on the hike in the first place, was it?”

  I cross my arms over my chest. The boy’s got a point. Damn.

  “Okay, fuck it. Never mind. Bad analogy,” Aiden says, clearly misunderstanding my silence. “All I know is I’d rather be alone with my guitar, my hand, and a bottle of lube than get with anyone who doesn’t make me hard as a rock.” His eyes darken with heat. “And that goes the same if we’re talking about an actual relationship or a possible one-night stand with a sexy, funny, smart, hot mess of a girl I might happen to meet in a bar in the middle of nowhere.”

  I hold his heated gaze, my chest heaving. Holy shit. I want him.

  Aiden leans forward and whispers, “You’ve never experienced white-hot chemistry, have you, Savvy?”

  My heart is thumping in my ears. My clit is pounding. I want him. “I’m not sure.”

  “Then you haven’t.”

  “Maybe, I have. I’m just not sure.”

  “There’s no such thing as ‘maybe’ with this. If you’d experienced the kind of white-hot chemistry I’m talking about, you’d know it. Trust me, when you see God during sex, you never forget it.”

  I feel my cheeks blaze. My breathing feels labored. I open and close my mouth. I want him.

  Aiden leans forward. “Derek the Douchebag never curled your toes? Not even after his fancy declaration of love at the top of that mountain?”

  I shake my head. “No. Derek was a total dud. But it wasn’t his fault. I was physically attracted to Derek, generally speaking, and flattered a guy with big ol’ muscles and a dazzling smile was interested in pursuing a relationship with a girl like me—or so I thought. But what I was most excited about when it came to Derek, if I’m being honest, was the idea of getting to parade him around as my boyfriend at my high school reunion. Basically, I wanted to bring him to the reunion and let Mason Crenshaw see a guy kind of like him actually found me attractive.” I roll my eyes. “Frankly, I think a piece of me knew all along Derek was lyi
ng to me, so I didn’t fully…you know…” I shift in my seat. “Relax with him when it counted.”

  Aiden licks his lips, leans over the orange Formica table, and whispers. “Has anyone made you see God? Ever?”

  My cheeks blaze. “Define that phrase, please.”

  He smiles wickedly. “Well, let’s start with the basics. Has any guy ever given you a simple orgasm?”

  I shake my head. “Just me. When I’m alone.”

  He leans back. “Wow. That’s a travesty, Savvy.”

  I shrug. “It’s okay. Like I said, life is full of tradeoffs. With Derek, I didn’t care so much about having good physical chemistry with him because I was so damned excited to get to bring him to my reunion and show him off.”

  He grimaces. “It means that much to you to bring a date to your reunion?”

  “Well, no. Okay, yes.”

  Aiden exhales. “Shit.” He pauses for a very long beat before muttering, “I wish I could be your date to that reunion, but—”

  “Thank you!” I blurt. I shoot up from my chair, unable to contain my excitement. “I’d love to introduce you as my ‘boyfriend’ at the reunion.”

  Aiden looks stricken. “Oh, shit. No. You misunderstood me, Savvy. I was saying I wish I could go with you. And I do. But I honestly can’t. I’ve got to be at this stupid birthday party on Saturday night in Vegas. Not for fun. For…work.”

  Mortified, I lower myself back onto my chair. “Oh. I shouldn’t have… Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I was being sincere. I’d love to go. Honestly, I’d cancel the job if I could, but the thing is my dad really needs money and—”

  “No need to explain,” I say. “I just misunderstood. It’s fine.”

  “I’m sorry. If I could go, I’d—”

  “No need to apologize. Thank you for even wanting to go.” I clear my throat and force a smile. “New topic. I’ve monopolized this entire conversation. Shame on me.” I take a deep breath and widen my fake smile, my stomach churning. “Tell me about you. You said you moved to California at fourteen?”

  Aiden looks tormented. “Shit. Savvy—”

  “Please, Aiden. Don’t give it another thought.” Again, I force a smile. “Where in California do you live?”