The Matchmaker's Playbook (Wingmen Inc., #1)(12)

We may be best friends, but at least I looked before I laid, you know? Lex didn’t care who his appetite affected; if he wanted something, he took it. Odd, considering he put so much damn time and energy into Wingmen Inc. It was his baby, his love child. Then again, even though we were best friends, Lex was private. He shared things with his computer, and sometimes, if it was a good day, he shared personal shit with me, but it was rare.

There were two things Lex trusted in this world: technology and sex. Neither had ever let him down. Hell, thirty years from now Lex will be sitting on the front porch of his mansion sipping lemonade with his computer/automated robot, whispering sweet nothings into its ear.

I nearly collided with a bench as I continued my sprint.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

With one minute remaining, I jerked open the door to the classroom and ran right into a short boy.

“Sorry, bro.” I leaned down to help him pick up his books.

Pink nail polish? Well, to each his own, I guess.

“You,” a very female voice said.

A hood was covering the she-man’s head. I peered closer and really wished I hadn’t.

Blake.

And she was pissed. Then again, my girl parts would probably be pissed off too if I strapped on a tight sports bra, tank top, and long basketball shorts. And, damn, those flip-flops just wouldn’t quit.

“Why are you always . . . everywhere?” she spat, wearing a look of outright distaste.

Class still hadn’t started, but I was a very self-aware individual. Meaning I knew that every damn eye in that room was trained on me and probably wondering why the hell I wasn’t charming the chick in dude clothes.

Can’t charm the asexual, folks.

I handed Blake her books. She jerked them out of my fingertips and huffed out a breath, pulling the hood from her hair.

That I could work with.

Her hair was a pretty golden-brown, thick, glossy, the first thing you noticed about her—other than the flip-flops, mind you.

“Business major?” I pointed to her books.

“Gen ed. Why else would I be here if I didn’t have to take the class?”

“Stalking.” I winked. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been followed. Probably won’t be the last.”

“You clearly have too high an opinion of yourself.”

“Some may say not high enough.” I let out a low chuckle as a few girls in the front row started whispering loud enough for anyone with two ears to hear: “So hot.”

“Three times! She said it was the best night of her life.”

Blake clenched her teeth and shot poison darts with her eyes. “Fans of yours?”

“The club has an opening.”

Blake shoved past me to make her way up the stairs to the last few empty seats. I followed her, mainly out of curiosity but also from the need to distance myself from the girls in front, who would have most likely tried to fondle me the entire class.

Last time that happened, I couldn’t even finish!

And by “finish,” I mean finish my finance class.

“They made posters last year,” I said with a sigh, plopping into the seat right next to her.

Jaw slack, she pointed at the other seats on either side of us, seats that would at least put a few empty desks in between us.

“Desks. Chairs. It’s a classroom, so that’s to be expected. Anything else I can help you with?”

“Sit in any chair but that one.”

“This one right here?” I patted my seat right between my legs and grinned shamelessly while her cheeks burned bright red. “Something on your mind, buttercup?”

“Just . . .” She dropped her book loudly onto the desk and put her bag on the floor. “Don’t talk to me.”

“Okay.”

She blinked at me, the shape of her mouth forming a small O, giving me the best possible daydream of her on her knees in front of me. I sucked my lower lip, allowing my thoughts to trail into dangerous territory. Then again, she was blushing now, blushed often, and was probably too uptight to take direction on any sort of oral activities. Pity.

Smiling, I kicked back in my seat. I did my best studying in silence . . . I didn’t need to talk to her to get to know her. Most of the important things about people were learned by simply observing.

Besides, class was starting.

The professor droned on and on about business organization and different organizational roles within a corporation.

I tuned him out, because I had my own corporation. I knew how roles worked. It was like going back to first grade after graduating with honors. But I stayed glued to my seat and studied Blake out of the corner of my eye.

Her face wasn’t bad. She had a smattering of freckles around her nose and cheeks, like someone had just dropped a few for effect right on her face when she was born. She would be cute if her hair wasn’t constantly falling over her eyes, making it impossible for me to really see what shape her face was or what color her eyes were.

With a huff, she pulled back her hair into a low ponytail.

I let out a small gasp.

Purely by accident.

“Are you going to make it?” she whispered harshly.

I leaned over, my hand grazing the back of her chair, fingertips dancing along her neck. “Are you?”

“I’m not . . . interested.”