Good Boy (WAGs #1)(53)

Now that I think about it, Lisa might be responsible for that.

“She’s back in town, you know,” I hear myself say.

“Damn.” Lisa makes a face. “I’m sorry. She giving you a hard time?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

Her face softens. “You always say that, honey. And I’m sure it’s true. No man is an island, though. You’re the kind of guy who takes care of his family. Takes care of his friends. Takes care of his teammates. But who takes care of you?”

With another gulp, I consider this question. “So you’re saying that men are more like peninsulas? Then women are like the busy parts of downtown. All those one-way streets and all that traffic. It’s so fucking confusing.”

Her mouth opens, then closes again. Then she grabs my pint glass off the bar and yanks on a tap, topping it up. “Drink this, and tell me what you’re going to do about the Jess situation. Did she dump you?”

I shake my head. “She said fooling around with me was stupid. Or that I was stupid. One of those.”

Lisa flinches. “Oh, honey. Maybe she didn’t mean it like it came out.”

Actually, I’m pretty sure she didn’t. But then where is she? And how long would it take her to realize that we’re good together?

“Women always want me.”

The bartender’s lips twitch. “Most women.”

“Right,” I correct. “Women who like dick want me.”

“But not Jess?”

“She likes me a little,” I admit. “But not enough. Seriously, Lise—how could one woman try to trap me and another just considers me her OOPF?”

“Oopf?”

“Occasional Orgasm-Producing Friend.”

“And you want more.” She pauses. “You’re lonely.”

Ugh. That word again. Why do people assume I’m lonely?

“Okay. Stupid question,” Lisa warns. “Have you actually told this girl you want more?”

“Yeah. Well, I hinted.”

“You hinted. How?”

Hmmm. I pushed her up against the wall of a coatroom and pounded her. “You may have a point.”

Lisa cackles. “Yeah? Go figure. So now you need to be straight with her. How’s she gonna give you what you want if she doesn’t know what that is? Oh, and if you’re the kind of guy who likes to make a grand gesture, now would be a good time to do that. You strike me as a grand-gesture kind of guy.”

“I do?” Granted, I make some very grand gestures with the Blake Snake. But I’m getting the feeling that Lisa might not be talking about sex right now.

“Yeah. You’re a go-big-or-go-home guy, right? Think of something she really needs, and then give it to her. A girl would have to sit up and notice something like that.”

“She would, right?”

“Of course.”

I think this through a little more. “But if I make a grand gesture, she might still turn me down.”

“It could happen,” Lisa admits, wiping down the bar. “But then you’d know how it was.”

Fuck. My neck gives a big twinge, and I feel like I already know how it is.





22 I Can Do This. I Can’t Do This.





Jess


“Rise and shine!”

The loud and cheery voice jolts me from not-so-peaceful slumber, and before I can blink, the whole world tips over and I’m slamming down onto the floor. What the hell…?

I groan and rub my arm where it smacked the hardwood, realizing I’d fallen out of my chair. Was I sleeping at my desk? I groggily scrub both hands over my face. Yep, I totally fell asleep mid-cramming last night. There’s a drool spot and a cheek impression on the pages of the textbook that had served as my pillow.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” Violet is tugging me to my feet, her eyes wide with concern behind her glasses. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” I rub my tired eyes. “What time is it?”

“Eight thirty.”

I gasp. “Are you serious?” Crap. Crap. Our final exam for pathophysiology and pharmaco-therapeutics (two words I never knew existed before I started this nursing program) is in thirty minutes. I don’t even have time to shower, damn it.

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” I ask my roommate.

She wrinkles her forehead. “I did. You said I’m up! and then kept reading.”

I did? Great. Some people sleepwalk. I, apparently, sleep-study. Except…oh God, I can’t remember a word of that textbook. Same with all the notes I took at the lectures. Panic coats my throat as I struggle to recall even a shred of information from my study sessions. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. I’m going to fail this final.

Violet is oblivious to my internal anxiety attack. “You should get dressed,” she informs me.

No shit. I fly around the room snatching up pieces of clothing, then strip out of yesterday’s wrinkled jeans and sweater while Violet leans against the door, watching me.

“Are you leaving now or do you want to wait so we can walk to class together?”

“I can wait,” she says graciously.

I yank a pair of clean yoga pants up my legs. Ugh. I can’t believe I fell asleep in jeans. I have red lines all over my thighs from where the denim dug into my skin all night.