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Cole Allemand doesn’t want to date me, and that is good.
But could we be friendly at least? Maybe enough to use each other’s names?
Screw it. I’m introducing him to myself because I want to say those goddamn Ls.
“Cole Allemand!” Why did I shout? Oh yeah. Because I have no chill.
If we were in a regency ballroom, I would be the subject of ridicule, forever a wallflower because I yell people’s names as a means of introduction. They may even go so far as to commit me to an asylum. They were pretty quick to use asylums in the olden days.
“You know my name?” Cole asks, seeming more surprised by the content of my outburst rather than the volume of it.
A deep breath helps me regain some sense of normalcy. “It’s on your library card.”
“But you know it.”
“I do. And now I’ve used it. And I plan on saying hi to you in the future and using your name. And you should say hi to me. And say my name.” Oh no. I think I just purred that last part.
It’s official. Tonight I need to take some me-time. I will use my vibrator until I’ve fulfilled my orgasm quota for the week. Or the month. Basically, I need to wear my clit out so I stop wondering if Cole would be willing to take on the task.
“Summer.”
“That’s the one!” Without books to hold, my hands decide to do a jazzy shake for emphasis. This is why I need pockets. I’m wearing one of those nonsensical skirts without them, as if pretty and practical cannot exist in the same universe.
This is a good time to retreat. I said his name out loud, so this has been a successful day. Better take my winnings before I gamble too much. But when I step back, Cole follows the movement. Only, his legs are longer than mine, so his step covers more ground. We’re suddenly much closer. His long fingers, perfect for typing and writing, reach up. For the briefest moment, I’m sure his hand is going to cup my boob. And I wonder if I’d have any inclination to stop him.
But he only uses the tip of his forefinger to trace over the surface of my name tag where it’s magnetically attached to my neckline.
Cole’s eyes drop to my mouth. As if he wants to do something. With my mouth.
“You have great teeth,” he says, then closes his eyes and frowns.
Oh. Okay. “I’ll let my orthodontist know those four years weren’t in vain,” I declare valiantly, as my cheeks stain with mortification.
Cole blinks, then steps back, moving to his truck. “See you, Summer.”
Three times. He’s used his ear-orgasm of a voice to say my name three times. Unfortunately, this last one I’m still too twisted up in thoughts of my teeth to fully appreciate the sound.
“You too.” I make my retreat, hoping he’ll leave the parking lot before he has to see the hot mess of a car I drive.
“Summer.”
Four. My body shivers and jerks around, a puppet to the strings of his voice. “Yes?”
Cole stands on the driver’s side of his truck, hand on the open door, elbow on the roof of the cab as he peers at me across the darkening parking lot.
“You said you were going to use it.”
“Use what?”
“My name.”
Oh.
“Cole Allemand!” I shout again, embarrassment fading, erased by my laughter and his willingness to look past my overeager introduction. “I’ll see you around, Cole Allemand.”
Chapter Three
SUMMER
