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That earns him a horrified gasp. “You did not just say what you said.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“I am so disappointed in you, Reagan Archibald Reynolds. She’s so much more than a hot chick with a neat lasso. And she’s not a bitch––she’s regal. There’s a very clear distinction.”
“Archibald?” He snorts. “That’s not my middle name.”
“I know. But since you won’t tell me what it is I’m going to keep guessing until I score.” I get a whole bunch of tension-fraught silence in return, and the realization that I might’ve misspoken creeps up on me.
“You wanna score, Alice?” he murmurs, pitch low, whispering in my ear as if he were tucked up against me in bed. It’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard, kick-starting a slow-moving heat that works up my neck, slides down through my limbs, and pools between my legs. I’m throbbing. “I may be able to help with that.”
I’m sure he could. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him to come over and do that. Except…only friends.
The skin from my toes to my hairline is on fire, feverish and sweaty. This taunt will not go unpunished, however. We’ve been dancing around this, whatever this is, for far too long and I’m tired of it. My patience with all the mixed signals he keeps sending is wearing real thin. I have goals and responsibilities just like he does. Unlike him, however, I’m willing to make room, to carve out a space for him because he’s that important. That’s the difference between us.
“Oh really? You’ll set me up with one of your friends? How nice of you,” I volley back because two can play this game.
“Uhhh, no, Bailey. Not even if it was on your Make-A-Wish list.”
“Aww, that’s okay, BD. Don’t sweat it. I can find my own dates.”
A deep slow chuckle filters through the phone. “Did you just call me big dick?”
“What? No. No, I called you BD as in Big Deal. Remember when we met and you said you were ‘kind of a big deal’?”
“No.”
“Forget it. Forget I said anything.”
He laughs. “And when you say dates you mean the pasty, emo dude I caught you making big eyes at?”
In truth, Simon is exactly my type. At least he was before an annoying water polo player almost ran me over. “I do not make ‘big eyes.’”
“He wears skinny jeans, Bailey,” he continues right over me. “That’s your type? A guy that models himself after a vampire book? Is he going to want a blood oath at some point in your relationship?”
I tap the phone to interrupt his rant. “First of all, Simon’s a nice guy and we have a lot in common––” Like capital letters and sunscreen. “And yes, he is my type. Second of all, I like those vampire books and who cares what he wears. Why am I even arguing with you?” My patience is so gone. “Oh yeah, because I thought you were calling to apologize for being riiddiicuulous,” I annunciate clearly with my mouth attached to the bottom of the phone. “I’m hanging up now.”
“I thought I was your type.”
“Negative. I like guys that are nice to me.”
“Bailey––”
“Don’t call again unless you have an apology ready.”
“Al––”
Click. Whatever else he was about to say falls away as I power off my phone, punch the pillow, and pray sleep finds me quickly.
Chapter 18
Alice
My bedroom door opens and Dora steps inside. She’s wearing a smile so big and bold it could shatter a Guinness record. Meanwhile, I’m not smiling. I’m sprawled out on my bed, an open textbook before me, busy studying for a History of Television exam that is imperative I ace and not making much progress.
“Guess what?” She does a strange little dance and a wiggle of her curvy hips. Then, hand on a Bible, she attempts to moonwalk. I am so bummed I did not catch this on video.
I am, however, getting the feeling that whatever she’s smiling about deserves my undivided attention so I close it.
“You’re a really bad dancer?” I say, biting down on my quivering lips.
She stops and pouts. “That’s not nice.”
I admire her one piece at a time. Her pin-straight auburn hair is in a slick ponytail. Peach lip gloss that complements her coloring. Cropped faded boyfriend jeans, a tight white t-shirt, and bright red flip-flops with black toenail polish.
In other words, the Mayfield factor in full effect. She’s come a long way since the pleated khakis and oversized polos she was wearing when I met her.
“What is it, Dora? What’s the news that has you dancing like a spaz and keeping me from studying for this godforsaken exam.” I sit up, cross-legged.
A smile explodes across her face, full of white perfectly even teeth. “My dads got me a car for my twenty-first birthday! It’s not for another week, but they couldn’t wait to give it to me so they drove up from Del Mar to deliver it today!” There’s no pause. Not even for a breath. She shimmies her shoulders. Does a little finger point to the sky.
