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"What?"
He shakes his head no. "Have you ever let a guy between your legs?" That same jealousy seeps into his voice.
"Did you bet Dean about that too?"
"No."
"Will you tell him?"
"No. I shouldn't have told him shit."
Maybe. But I want him bragging to his friends about us. About being with me. I want him so infatuated with me, with my body, with fucking me, that he can't keep his mouth shut.
"Are you going to tell him about this conversation?"
"No." He chuckles. "I don't need anyone knowing I'm corrupting you."
I move forward. To the expensive notebooks. They're muted. Masculine. Dark. I pick up a black one. It's leather-bound with a magnetic snap. "You are?"
"I just got you to say cunt in a shopping mall."
My laugh is more nervous than anything. "I liked it."
"Even worse."
"No, like you said." I force myself to turn back to him. To look him in the eyes. I can't stand Brendon thinking he isn't good for me. Even if this whole hot and cold act of his is driving me bonkers. "It's a powerful word. A tool."
"You're only interested as a writer?"
I nod.
"And I o
nly watch porn as an artist."
Fuck, why does he make it so hard to hold his gaze? My cheeks are burning. I stammer something. "Well... yeah... you need to study the human figure."
"And that's why you read dirty books, to study the prose?"
"Yeah. I don't need them for fantasies. My imagination is plenty active. You... I guess you haven't read any of my fan fiction."
"I'm still waiting on that story about Draco tying up Harry."
"Have you even read Harry Potter?"
"I know the gist."
"I haven't... I have to do more research still." I run my fingers over the edges of the notebook.
He brushes a stray hair from my eyes then takes the notebook in my hands. Runs his fingers over the cover. "This is exactly what you need."
"So I can fill it with cunt?" I manage to say the word without blushing.
He chuckles. "So you can fill it with whatever grabs onto you and refuses to let go." He flips the snap, bends the spine, drags his fingers over the paper. "This is a serious notebook. For a serious writer."
"But I'm not—"
"You could be."
