Wicked Heart (Starcrossed #3)(10)
Random Drunk Guy scowls and turns away, and I sit down and sigh. It’s ridiculous how often we have to do that.
“The magic-penis line is new,” Josh says as he casually drapes his arm around my shoulders. “I like it. It’s good for my ego.”
“I’m glad. But you know if you ever say something about my vagina, I’m going to hurt you, right?”
“Yep. I haven’t forgotten last time. Neither have my balls.”
I smile and lean my head on his shoulder.
Having a boy for a best friend can be both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, I always have a way to duck unwanted male attention when needed, but on the other hand, guys I want to notice me see Josh and assume I’m attached, so they steer clear. It can be frustrating.
I haven’t dated anyone seriously since high school, and even though I’m mostly happy about that because men are a distraction I don’t need right now, sometimes I have a twinge of longing. A wistful desire for something more.
At least I have Josh. Tonight we’re doing one of our fave activities, which is sitting in the middle of Times Square and playing “Fuck, Marry, Kill” with people who pass by.
“Okay, let’s do this,” Josh says as he points to people loitering in front of us. “Cowboy hat, skinny jeans, and chubby suit.”
“Hmmm. Tough one. They’re all pretty bad.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m going to need a decision.”
“Fine. Kill Skinny Jeans because then he can’t raise sons who will follow in his ridiculous hipster ways, marry Chubby Suit because it’s obvious the man has a job and can pay for my cheese addiction, and fuck Mr. Cowboy Hat because he looks like he’d know his way around a filly, if you know what I mean.”
Josh frowns. “You’d fuck him because he can walk around a horse? I don’t understand.”
I elbow him. “Stop it. You know Mr. Literal is my least favorite of your personalities.”
“Wow, tough crowd. Okay, your turn.”
“Pink faux fur,” I say, and point to a girl with three-inch heels and six-inch hair.
Josh screws up his face. “Oh, Jesus. No. Kill.”
I point to a girl who I’m guessing has spent the equivalent of a year’s worth of wages on plastic surgery. “Fake-boob bobblehead.”
Josh tilts his head, and shrugs. “Fuck, but with the lights out.”
A girl in fishnets and a bowler hat walks by, handing out flyers to the people in the TKTS line scrambling to get last-minute seats for tonight’s shows.
“Liza Minnelli wannabe.”
Josh gets a look in his eye I know only too well. Theater girls give him a major boner.
“Marry,” he says, and his voice cracks a little. “God, look at her. ‘Come to Papa, baby.’ She could keep that whole outfit on in the bedroom.”
“Nuh-uh. If you marry her, you don’t get to bang her.”
He turns to me, his brows furrowed. “What? Since when don’t married people get to have sexual relations?”
“Uh, since this game was invented.”
“Bullshit.”
“Josh, how do you not know how this works? You get to fuck someone once, marry them forever but no sex, or kill them dead.”
“No way! It’s always been fuck them once, marry them so you can fuck them forever, or kill them after you’ve fucked them because the sex would be horrible.”
“Are you kidding me? Out of all the times you’ve been wrong since I’ve known you, this is the wrongest.”
He scowls. “ ‘Wrongest’ isn’t even a word.”
“I know, but I had to make something up to fully express how wrong you are right now.”
I feel warmth at my back right before a deep voice says, “Your girlfriend’s right, man. You’ve been playing it wrong. You don’t get to have sex when you’re married. Everyone knows that.”
I turn around, and leaning forward from his position on the step behind us is the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.
Oh, wow.
It’s like there was a lottery somewhere on facial perfection, and this guy won the jackpot. Sandy-brown hair, thick and wavy, unbelievable blue-green eyes, full lips curled into a wry smile.
Congratulations on your face, sir.
I glance at the thick biceps peeking out of his T-shirt.
And your body. Congrats on it all.
He would be Fuck. Most definitely.
Josh must notice my reaction because he quickly says, “Oh, she’s not my girlfriend. I mean, we used to date but I couldn’t keep up with her in the sack. She was insatiable. All day, every day. I never knew one woman was capable of taking that much dick—”
I squeeze Josh’s thigh until he squirms. “Please excuse my friend. He knows I’m going to kill him now, and fear of the afterlife makes him babble.”
Mr. Fuck gives me a smile. Well, he gives it to both of us, but I’m claiming it because his gaze lingers on me longer. I’m fairly certain he checks out my boobs. It gives me tingles. I haven’t had tingles this powerful for . . . well, ever.
The hottie must approve of what he sees, because his tone is undeniably flirty. “So if your friend is the one getting killed, who are you going to fuck and who are you going to marry?” The way he says it leaves no doubt in my mind which he’d rather be.