The Lying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #5)(49)

Die.

“Just say it.” What could it be? Oh god. Self-doubt takes over like a wave crashing onto a calm shore. What if he hates my boobs? He hates my body, thinks I’m too— “Dry-humping you is neat and all, and I want you to stroke my cock, but what I really want is to fuck you. So bad.”

He wants to fuck me? That’s great news! It’s none of those things I just mentioned; forget I said all that.

“You want to have sex with me?”

“Duh. Can’t you feel my cock?”

Cock.

When it’s not gloriously rubbing the denim seam in my jeans, it’s digging into my thigh. Big and thick and—hard.

So yes. I can feel his cock.

Do I want it inside me? That’s the big question I have to answer. And honestly…

I gather my wits, and my common sense. “Abe, I want you too—so bad—but I’m not having sex in the front seat of a truck, no matter how bad I want you inside me.” There. I said it.

“What are we going to do? We can’t go back to my place—JB is home, and if he sees you, he’ll get fighting mad.”

My teeth chew at my bottom lip. “We can’t go back to mine—Hannah is there, and she won’t leave us alone if she sees us walking in the door.”

Or hears us having sex in the other room. I’d never live it down. Not in a million years.

“That’s better than being at my place. JB comes into my room unannounced all the goddamn time. I have no privacy.”

Pfft. “You think that’s bad? Even if I lock my door, Hannah can pick it open with a bobby pin. She’s worse than a petty thief.”

Abe is quiet for a few seconds, solving our problem. “Would you mind climbing in through my window instead of using the front door? At least JB doesn’t pick locks.”

“What’s the worst thing that will happen if he finds me at your place?”

“Uh. He might punch me, but I doubt it. But he might.”

“Can you live with that?”

“Um, yeah. I can live with him decking me in the face for a chance to fuck you in my actual bed.”

Oh Jesus, that’s kind of romantic. “How high up is your window?”

“First floor. I’ll give you a boost.”

Sounds reasonable enough. “Okay. Let’s do it.”





Abe



“Do I need to call the cops?” Skylar and I both pause at the interruption coming from the house next door. The sound of another window being cracked open stops me from giving her a final boost into my bedroom, hands splayed firmly on her backside.

I slowly lower her back to the ground. Pivot.

It’s one of the neighbor girls, now hanging out their bathroom window. “Did you hear me?” she says, leaning further.

“I live here. Don’t call the cops.”

“Prove it.”

I feel around for my wallet, knowing that even if I pull out my driver’s license it will be useless since my school address isn’t listed on it. “Um…”

“What’s your name?” the girl asks, holding out a can of something I can’t make out in the dark. Raid? Hairspray? Bear spray? It’s hard to tell in the dim light.

“Abe Davis.”

The can lowers and she sets it on a hidden countertop. “You passed.”

“Thanks?” …for not spraying us both in the eyes with mace?

“What the hell are you doing climbing in through the window? Lose your key?” the voice wants to know, and rightfully so. If I saw some strange dude hanging from her window, I’d try to stop him, too.

“Uh, nope. Didn’t lose my key.”

“Front door busted?”

“Er…no.”

“What then?” She’s impatient, wanting details. “You have ten seconds to explain yourself before I call the cop shop.”

Two seconds ago she acknowledged she knew who I was!

My hands give Skylar a gentle nudge forward. “This is a girl my roommate met on LoveU. He isn’t into her—”

“Gee, thanks,” Skylar murmurs begrudgingly, giving me a bump with her elbow.

“—but I am, and if he sees her inside, he’s going to get pissed, so we have to sneak in through the window.”

The girl—whose face I still can’t see because of the backlighting—holds up her palm to stop me. “Say no more. I totally get it.” There’s a quick pause. “How many roommates do you have?”

“Just the one.”

“So it’s the guy with the sandy blond hair?”

“Uh, yeah…” What’s her point?

“My roommate Sybil has the hots for him, but she’s a big wuss.” Even though I can’t see it, I know an idea is forming in her head. “I could do you a favor and invite him over if that would help you out—but then you’d owe me.”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure. You’d be helping me help you and helping my roommate grow a pair of lady balls and maybe hit on the guy once and for all.” The girl rests her elbows on the encasement, chin in her hand. “She leaves the house when he leaves every day, even when she doesn’t have classes, but she refuses to talk to him. It’s getting pathetic. Maybe if he’s in our actual living room and we give her a few shots of vodka, she’ll say hi.”