Finding Cinderella (Hopeless #2.5)(3)

I feel her shoulders shrug. “I don’t know. This. Us. Kissing and talking and holding hands and we don’t even know what each other looks like.”

“I’m really good looking,” I say.

She laughs.

“I’m serious. If you could see me right now, you’d be on your knees begging me to be your boyfriend so you could flaunt me around the school.”

“Highly unlikely,” she says. “I don’t do boyfriends. Overrated.”

“If you don’t hold hands and you don’t do boyfriends, then what do you do?”

She sighs. “Pretty much everything else. I’ve got quite a reputation, you know. In fact, it’s possible the two of us may have had sex before and we don’t even realize it.”

“Not possible. You’d remember me.”

She laughs again and as much as I’m having fun talking to her, that laugh makes me want to drag her to the floor with me and do nothing but kiss her again.

“Are you actually good looking?” she asks skeptically.

“Terribly good looking,” I reply.

“Let me guess. Dark hair, brown eyes, great abs, white teeth, Abercrombie & Fitch.”

“Close,” I say. “Light brown hair, correct on the eyes, abs, and teeth, but American Eagle Outfitters all the way.”

“Impressive,” she says.

“My turn,” I say. “Thick blonde hair, big blue eyes, an adorable little white dress with a matching hat, royal blue skin, and you’re about two feet tall.”

She laughs loudly. “You have a thing for Smurfette?”

“A guy can dream.”

She’s still laughing and the sound of her laughter actually makes my heart hurt. It hurts because I really want to know who this chick is but I know once I find out, I more than likely won’t want her like I want her right now.

She inhales a breath after her laughter subsides and then the room becomes quiet. So quiet, it’s almost uncomfortable.

“I’m not coming back in here after today,” she says softly.

I squeeze her hand, surprised by the sadness I felt at that confession.

“I’m moving. Not right away, but soon. This summer. I just think it’d be silly if I came back here, because eventually we’ll have to turn on the light or we’ll slip up and say our names and I just don’t think I want to know who you are.”

I graze my thumb over her hand. “Why’d you come back today, then?”

She exhales a delicate breath. “I wanted to thank you.”

I laugh softly. “For what? Kissing you? That’s all I did.”

“Yeah,” she says, matter-of-fact. “Exactly. For kissing me. For just kissing me. Do you know how long it’s been since a guy has actually just kissed me? After I left last week I tried to remember, but I couldn’t. Every time a guy has ever kissed me, he’s always been in such a hurry to move on to what comes after the kisses that I don’t think anyone has ever taken the time to give me an honest to God, genuine kiss before.”

I shake my head. “That’s really depressing,” I say. “But don’t give me too much credit. I’ve been known to want to rush past that part in the past. I just didn’t really care to rush past it last week because you’re a pretty phenomenal kisser.”

“Yeah,” she says confidently. “I know. Imagine what making love to me could feel like.”

I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “Believe me, I have. For about seven days straight now.”

Her legs stop swinging next to me. I don’t know if I just made her uncomfortable with that comment.

“You know what else is sad?” she asks. “No one’s ever made love to me before.”

This conversation is headed in a weird direction. I can already tell.

“You’re young. Plenty of time for that. Virginity is actually a turn-on, so you have nothing to worry about.”

She laughs, but it’s a sad laugh this time.

Weird how I can already differentiate her laughs.

“I am so not a virgin,” she says. “That’s why it’s sad. I’m pretty skilled in the sex department, but looking back . . . I’ve never loved any of them. None of them have ever loved me, either. Sometimes I wonder if sex with someone who actually loves you is different. Better.”

I think about her question and realize that I don’t have an answer. I’ve never loved anyone, either. “Good question,” I say. “It’s kind of sad that we’ve both had sex, multiple times it sounds like, but neither of us has ever loved anyone we’ve done it with. Says a lot about our characters, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “Sure does. A lot of sad truth.”

It’s quiet for a while and I still have hold of her hand. I can’t stop thinking about the fact that no one’s ever held her hand before. It makes me wonder if I’ve ever held the hands of any of the girls I’ve had sex with. Not that there have been a ton, but enough that I should be able to recall holding one of their hands.

“I might be one of those guys,” I ashamedly admit. “I don’t know if I’ve ever held a girl’s hand before.”

“You’re holding mine,” she says.