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I shrug, reaching for the seatbelt. “Because you don’t look like the type of guy who plays football?”
His amusement remains. “So, what sort of guy do I look like?”
“I don’t know. When I first saw you, I figured you were the kind of guy who got trashed on weekends, got in a lot of trouble, was cocky, and a total player.”
“And now, what do you see?”
“Well, I definitely still think you’re cocky,” I quip, and he smiles. “But as for getting trashed on weekends and getting in trouble … I think I may have been wrong about that.”
“And what about the last one?” he asks, holding my gaze. “Do you still think I’m a player?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Only time will tell.”
He scans my face over with the oddest look on his face. Then he steps back and shuts the door, leaving me to wonder what on earth he was thinking about.
Leaving me to wonder a lot of things.
Leaving me to realize I’m starting to wonder a lot about this guy.
Of course, I get distracted out of my thoughts as he rounds the front of his SUV to climb in and a tall, curvy girl with long, blonde hair stops him. She starts talking to him. Or more like flirting, since she keeps laughing and touching his arm.
I once made a joke about how she was the kind of girl who’d look good with Blaise, how they’d be a super pretty couple. I was only mostly kidding when I said it. Seeing them standing next to each other, though, I realize they do look good together. And I don’t like the way that revelation bothers me.
See? This is why you’ve stayed away from guys. Because they’re distracting and complicate things.
To keep myself from staring at them, I focus on picking the chipped fingernail polish off my nails. I also make a mental note to inform Rhyland that Blaise does know how to flirt, since he once tried to convince me he didn’t.
About a minute later, Blaise climbs into the car.
“Sorry about that,” he says, shutting the door. “Layla had a couple of questions about the notes we took in history class today. Honestly, it’s kind of weird she asked me. Usually, people keep their distance from me and my brothers. And I’m not really the guy you ask for notes.”
“I think she was hitting on you,” I tell him, rotating in my seat to face him.
“I got that vibe, too.” He starts up the engine. “I’m not sure why, though. I know girls check me out and everything, and who can blame them?” He flashes me a smirk, to which I respond with the most dramatic eye roll ever. “But they’re usually too scared of my last name and what it means to actually flirt with me. Well, except for Amelia, but she’s straight-up crazy. Plus, her father could probably give my father a run for his craziness.” He sighs, gripping the wheel.
I almost say,oh trust me, I know. Luckily, I catch myself. I don’t want to have to explain how I know his father is as batshit crazy as Axel, and I can’t tell Blaise about the deal I made with his dad.
“Maybe you’re not as scary as you think,” I manage to get out a teasing remark. “Maybe your pretty boy looks are becoming more prominent by the day, and people don’t find it very scary anymore.” I give him a sly grin. “Pretty boys really aren’t that scary. Well, unless you’re allergic to prettiness, which I totally am.”
A smile quirks at the corners of his lips as he steers his SUV out of the parking space. “Bullshit.”
“It’s complete un-bullshit.”
“Un-bullshit?” he questions, highly amused.
“It’s totally a word,” I say with a sassy grin. “In my dictionary, which is the dictionary you really should start living by.”
“And what’s this dictionary called?” he plays along. “You know, so I can purchase a copy and memorize all the words.”
“I’m not sure you can do that. There’s, like, a million bagillon of them, which is a lot.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re so adorable sometimes.”
I hold up my hand. “You so did not just say that to me.” When he grins, I lean over and lightly pinch his arm. “Take that back, Blaise Porterson, before I throw up all over the floor of your car.”
“Why would that make you throw up?” he wonders.
“Um, because I’m almost as allergic to adorableness as I am to prettiness,” I say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
