Whatever It Takes (Bad Reputation Duet #1)(58)

Sex on the first date: do I really have to answer this? [w, if this makes you nervous, please skip over this]





W. I take a breath, wondering if I should glaze over his typed words, but if he’s telling me to skip it, then maybe he knows the answer won’t sit well with me. Or maybe he doesn’t want to “come on strong”—it’s not like he’s hitting on me or anything.

This is just the start of a friendship, right?

I decide to look.

Already did it. It wasn’t her first time either.





Either. Meaning he’s had sex multiple times too.

And I haven’t even been kissed…but it shouldn’t matter. Just the start of a friendship.

Been arrested: not yet



Turned someone down: I don’t know what this is implying. Turned someone down for a ride? For a smoke? What is this?



Fallen for a friend: sort of





Sort of. I don’t know what that is implying!

More questions…





Do you have any pets: turtle named Abracadabra—it used to be my brother Mitchell’s before he left for college.



What did you do for your last birthday party: smoked and watched Evil Dead with my friends – it was actually horrible (I had the spins all night and threw up)



Name something you cannot wait for: the end of senior year



What irritates you: being told what to do, what to wear, how to act



Nickname(s): Abbey



Relationship status: hiatus



Favorite TV show: Supernatural and American Horror Story



High School: sucks



College: probably sucks more



Hair Color + Length: brown, short but not that short idk



Height: 5’11’’



Your crush: unknown entity ... not computable at this time



Tattoos: 2, one on the inside of my elbow, the other over my right shoulder blade (my mom started crying when she saw the first one, you destroyed your body!!)



Right or left-handed: Right



Any surgeries: broke my wrist pretty bad and my leg once. I had to have a couple pins put in – I was only about seven and then nine.



Any piercings: no I didn’t want anyone trying to tug that shit out



Favorite sport: lacrosse. All my brothers played, and I’m not the worst at it but I probably hate it the most



First vacation: France. I was nine-months-old and can remember absolutely nothing





Currently…





What are you eating: cold slice of pizza



What are you drinking: that energy drink + vodka



What are you waiting for: a certain someone’s username



Do you want kids: I already feel bad for these kids



Marriage: if I love her enough



Career: who the fuck knows bc I don’t





What do you like…





Hugs or kisses: definitely kissing but I’d take both



Shorter or taller: girls? I don’t really have a preference



Older or younger: probably younger or same age





I’m not tagging anyone else, but if you feel like doing this, knock yourself out. It’s not as bad as it seems. And someone out there owes me a username -- see you in the morning if I haven’t already.





“Are you getting off?”

“Huh?” I peel my attention off my cellphone. A college student with a backpack is waiting in the lobby.

She motions to the elevator. “Are you getting off here?”

“Oh yeah.” I quickly step off and check the time, still five minutes early. I pocket my cell, surprised at how much information I received and then in the same breath, all the conundrums that he presented me with too.

I wonder if my questionnaire will read that way as well.

As soon as I walk outside, the September air cool, I notice a black Mustang parked on the curb. Garrison waits for me, leaning against the car with hands in his navy-blue slacks. His tie is loose around his neck, his white button-down fitting him perfectly.

In the Dalton Academy uniform, he looks more like a quintessential popular guy than the alternative black-hoodied one I’m used to seeing. He straightens up when he spots me, and I slow my pace a little.

No eggs are in his hand. I breathe easier. This is not a Never Been Kissed situation. He’s just scanning me from head to toe like I did to him.

“Hey,” he greets with a nod.

“You’re early.” I stop a couple feet away from him.

“So are you.” His aqua-blue eyes land on my skirt and they never peel away.

“What…?” I wonder if I didn’t iron the fabric enough.

“You’re not wearing that right.”

I pale. “What do you mean?” It’s just a blue skirt, a belt attached with the same stiff canvas fabric and it forms a bow in the front.