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“You popped your one-nighter cherry?” He laughs. “I thought you had done it all.”
I smack his arm when he won’t stop chuckling. “It’s not funny. We work together.”
“That’s going to be awkward. Do you think he likes you? Most dudes get over it pretty quickly as long as their dick got action.”
My eyes roll so hard that I might have come close to giving myself a lobotomy. “Well, that’s reassuring.”
“It’s the truth. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“I’m not embarrassed.”
“Then, why are you freaking out?” Wolfgang covers his mouth with his hand. “Oh God, is he, like, that ugly, fat guy you keep a secret but is really great in the sack? I had one of those once.”
“Shut up!” I laugh. “No. And you did not.”
“Sure did. Sophomore year. Best head of my life, but good Lord, I couldn’t take him on a date even for takeout. He was not pretty.”
“You’re terrible.” I shake my head. “I had no idea you were so shallow.”
“Eh, it was a phase. I would never do that again. I actually felt guilty about the whole thing once we finally called it quits.”
“Good. You should have.”
“So, is that the thing? He’s ugly, isn’t he?” He begins to walk hastily toward the door. “I gotta see this guy.”
“Wolfie!” I shout in protest, chasing after him. “Stop. No.”
He opens the entrance. “Oh, now, I really have to take a look.”
My friend races through the hall, turning at the bust of the famous engineer, and comes to an abrupt halt at the library’s glass doors. I catch up to him, pausing at his side, finding Foster standing at the check-out desk, sorting through a pile of books.
“Is that him?” questions Wolfgang.
“Yeah,” I say reluctantly. “His name’s Foster.”
“Foster? Well, isn’t he all proper?” He examines Foster for a few moments. “Hello, Mr. Foxy Man with Spectacles. I wouldn’t mind a one-nighter with him. Fill that geek-chic bucket-list fantasy.”
“Oh. My. Gawd.” I giggle. “Can we focus on my dilemma?”
“I don’t see the issue. You two had sex. Get over it, and he will, too. Don’t make it a bigger deal than it really is. Move on. Or not. He’s hot.” His lips tighten. “That shirt he’s wearing is doing all kinds of good things to showcase his chest and arms. I might have to give him a whirl myself. He’s got a good body under all that cotton, doesn’t he?” He cocks his head. “I wish that damn desk wasn’t in the way, so I could get a good look at his ass.”
I grunt, frustrated that my friend is of no help. I thought for sure he would have had some reasonable guidance. Instead, he’s adding the guy from my tryst into his spank bank.
“Stop trying to stare at his ass,” I chide.
“Well, if you’re not interested…maybe I can convince him to come and play with me.”
“Stop it. He’s not your type, and he’s totally not my type. The guy lives and breathes the periodic table of elements.” I sigh. “How am I supposed to go about this?”
Foster lifts his head, peering toward us, as Wolfgang and I are gawking at him from the other side of the glass door. Foster adjusts the bridge of his glasses, and his expression goes blank.
At my side, Wolfgang slides an arm over my shoulder, and before I have a chance to react, he’s kissing me—full-on lip-to-lip, caressing-my-face kissing me.
It takes a few seconds before my brain registers what’s happening to my body. The fact that my gay friend has decided to give girls, namely me, another try at this moment in time without my consent is not exactly what I was expecting.
I push him off of me, wiping my mouth with the tips of my fingers. “What in the hell was that all about?”
“I was helping you with your problem.” He tilts his head toward the library desk.
