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Throw in the stress about not performing, and I can’t take this any longer.
“Hey, wanna head out?” I nod at the door. “Go someplace else?”
Her dark lashes lower, her full mouth twit
ches, and Christ, what is it about her? She’s not a super model—she’s short, curvy, quirky, but she’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. The sexiest. I’m desperate to see her naked, to play with her body.
“Sure,” she replies and gathers up her purse.
I pull her out of the bar, back her up in a corner between a shop entrance and another shop and kiss her. Can’t stop kissing her. She tastes of wine and mint and pure sugar. She winds her arms around my neck and kisses me back, lets me take control of the kiss.
I like being in control. I like taking care of things, organizing, directing, managing. I’m taking her home. I wonder if Jet is home.
Next door to my bedroom.
He’d hear everything. And the thought shouldn’t thrill me. Behind my lids flashes an image of him on his knees in his bed, his hand between his legs—
I jerk back, take a few steps down the street, shoving my fingers through my hair.
“Hey. What’s wrong?” She’s right behind me, running with small steps in her high heels to catch up with me. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Fuck.”
I can’t. I can’t do this. No matter how pretty she is, I won’t come, I know it, and she’ll be left wondering what kind of a freak I am.
Why she’s not enough to get me off. The guy who slept with half the college. The guy who’s supposed to last all night.
“Joel—”
“Look, I have to go,” I tell her and see disappointment well in her eyes. Goddammit. “I’m sorry, it’s… it’s complicated.”
“Sure it is,” she bites out the words, and when I say nothing more, she turns around to go.
“Candy, wait!” I call after her, trying to think of something to do to make it better, to take it back, to convince myself to go through with my plan and take her home—but she ignores me, stomping away and calling a cab.
Christ. I’m an asshole. I fucked this up before it even started, like I knew I would.
With the one girl I really like. The first girl I’ve asked out in a year. The girl I can’t get out of my head, even though I still don’t know why.
Figures.
***
“What’s up?” Jethro calls from his sprawl on the sofa when I enter the apartment. “Weren’t you supposed to be out tonight?”
“I fucked up,” I inform him, and trudge to my room. I throw myself on my bed and press an arm over my eyes to blot out the world. “I’m such a pathetic failure.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” He’s in my room, standing by my bed.
“I couldn’t go through with it. Couldn’t bring her here, fuck her. If a girl doesn’t come, she can fake it, you know? But when a guy can’t come…”
He kicks at the bed base, then shoves me. “Get up.”
“What for?”
“I said I’d help you, didn’t I?”
Intrigued, I lift my arm. “How?”
