The Studying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #1)(16)

“Um, no?”

“Knock it off.” I give my head a mental shake, marveling at this information. “So let me get this straight—you have no idea who I am.”

She throws her pencil down on the wooden table and crosses her arms. “I have a feeling you’re just dying to enlighten me.”

Damn right I am! “Damn right I am!”

Jameson leans back in her chair with a patronizing expression. “Fine. Go ahead. I’m all ears, hanging on your every word, your majesty.”

Shit. Her blatant sarcasm kind of took the wind out of my sail. “Oz. As in Osborne.”

Jameson stares blankly before scrunching up her cute freckled nose. “Your first name is Osborne? Crap. That wasn’t even on my radar as a possibility.”

“No.” Impatient, my leg begins to bounce under the table. “My last name is Osborne.”

Her hands go in the air in surrender. “Yikes, don’t get all offended. How the hell was I supposed to know?”

Is she f*cking serious?

“You know what? Never mind.” I reach over the side of the table, dig into my backpack, and whip out a textbook. Cracking it open, I do my best to ignore her.

“Come on, don’t be a baby. I told you, I didn’t know.” She’s quiet for a few seconds, and then, “Can I still call you Oswald? I’m sad now knowing it’s not your real name.”

Agitated, I turn to face her, slamming the book closed with a satisfying thud. “Do I look like an Oswald to you?”

She squints, sizing me up. “Hmmm, not really, now you mention it. Now that I’m taking a good look at you, you’re more of a Blake. Or a Richard.”

“Okay, now you’re f*cking with me.”

“Me?” She points a finger at her chest. “Noooo.”

We both start laughing then, the clear sound of her lighthearted giggle doing bizarre shit to my stomach and heart that I can’t label—weird, f*cked up fluttering and shit.

Annoying.

When we finally stop snickering, she leans in across the table and quietly asks, “So what’s your name?”

“I just told you—it’s Oz.”

“No.” Her head gives a little shake. “Your real name. It’s not like I can’t google it if I was feeling motivated, which I’m not.” She says the last part with a roll of her eyes. “What did your parents name you?”

For a few quiet heartbeats, I consider not telling her, making her work for it. But then—

“Sebastian.”

“Your name is Sebastian?”

“Yup.” I let the P sound pop.

Jameson studies me then, harder than anyone’s ever studied me before, blue eyes searching the rigid lines of my face. The strong jawline. The faded bruise under my left eye from being locked in a chokehold full of elbow.

I feel every stroke of her examination, as if her smooth fingertips are truly caressing my skin.

“Sebastian,” she repeats quietly to herself, testing the name. She repeats it several more times, each pronunciation with a different inflection. “Sebastian…Sebastian. Hmm. Who would have thought?”

“I’d rather be called Oswald.”

“No you wouldn’t.” Her whisper carries across the table.

My chin rests in my palm, elbow propped on the table. “You’re right. That name sucks donkey balls.”

Jameson bites down on her lower lip, her gaze suddenly shy as she glances down at the books opened in front of me on the table. Her throat clears. “We’re not getting any work done.”

“True.” My finger traces the mouse pad in unhurried circles as she begins drumming her fingertips on the table.

“I should probably go.”

“Stay. Let’s talk for a few more minutes. No harm in that, yeah?”

She seems to mull this over, her teeth still pressed into her bottom lip. “Okay. We’ll talk. What do you want to know about me?”

“What’s the deal with your roommate and mine?”

Jameson’s surprised expression is fleeting. “I think they’re just friends with benefits. Why?”

“She should stay away from him. He’s a whore.”

Jameson laughs. Head thrown back, the cheerful sound fills the room. “That’s what they say about you.”

“Someone said I was a whore? Who?”

“Everyone. After they saw us talking at the party, my friends gave me quite an earful.”

I lean back in the chair and it squeaks when I tip it back on its legs. “Any good gossip?”

She mimics my posture and balances herself across from me. “Well, let me think here.” The legs hit the ground again and she scratches her chin. “Allison heard you having sex at the party this past weekend and said the door was rattling. So that was interesting news.”

I pretend to consider this. “Yup, can’t lie about that one. I railed that door and the redhead almost off their hinges. Got any others?”

“You date multiple people at once.”

“False. I don’t date anyone. Ever.”

Jameson’s face is an impassive mask. “Hayley told me you broke up with your last girlfriend over Twitter.”

A grimace twists my mouth into a frown. “Oh, Hayley told you, did she? Didn’t your mother teach you not to listen to rumors?”