My So-Called Sex Life (How to Date, #1)(10)

Soft murmurs float through the crowd, a sound loosely translating to I want to know more about the handsome guy with the glasses who never says much about himself.

Luciana will probably let him off the hook since the time is running out, but she checks her watch then says, “We’ve got thirty seconds left. Axel, can you answer Melissa’s question and help quench Tracy’s need-to-know thirst? Did you ever accidentally play a sexy dictation on the subway or fall for someone with an English accent?”

He laughs, the kind of laugh that somehow manages to say Oh, Luciana, I never talk about my private life. He squares his shoulders and faces the crowd, squinting through his glasses at the woman who asked the question.

But before he can answer, Tracy asks another question. “For instance, your last hero was a former lawyer turned vigilante-for-hire. Is he a little of you?”

Axel narrows his brows and nods thoughtfully. “I can see the similarities, Tracy,” he says. “I definitely look like a badass vigilante that underground associations would hire to retrieve priceless stolen goods. But…sadly, I’ve never rappelled into a museum to retrieve a work of art belonging to someone else.”

It’s a good answer, but I can tell that won’t be enough for Tracy. She likes to push buttons. She wants a real answer. Everyone else gave one, but Axel isn’t offering any nibbles.

“But the law school bit? The reason he didn’t practice? Was that based on you?” She presses, digging deeper into the character’s psyche, trying to draw comparisons.

Axel’s face goes blank, and he’s quiet for a few seconds.

I look to Luciana. Shouldn’t she be stepping in? But a stagehand is whispering something to the moderator, so Luciana’s not available for swooping.

Ah, hell. I don’t want to save him, yet I hate to see anyone backed against a wall. Also, I do want the points. So, I jump on the grenade. “His heroes like tacos,” I add with an I’m sharing a secret smile. “And this guy’s addicted to them,” I say, pointing my thumb at Axel.

A flash of relief passes across his blue eyes. Then he’s sharp again, confident again, when he says, “She’s right. I’m a taco lover.”

I cup the side of my mouth. “Taco Tuesday is a religion for him.”

“Tacos are holy,” he adds.

“Look, he’s not wrong,” Saanvi contributes, and for a few seconds the audience turns into a congregation singing the praises of tacos.



When the Q and A ends, my sister texts me to come find her in the greenroom. Thank god Veronica’s here. I know she came for the signing we’re doing next—she loves Kennedy’s books. I feel a little exposed after that Q and A, hoping the attendees couldn’t see through Axel and me. I need a safe space for a few minutes, and that’s my sister.

She’s waiting for me by the greenroom, leaning against the doorframe, wearing a red polka-dot top, with brown wisps of hair framing her face. When our eyes meet, she waves me over, grabbing my wrist when I reach her.

“Why didn’t I know about the sex dictation? We’re sisters in mortification now.”

I smile, loving that she can laugh about her own snafu. A year ago she accidentally sent her anonymous sex column to her entire company and lost her job. But it was kind of her cat’s fault. Quirky pets can be so dastardly.

“Because no one should ever have to hear me dictate a sex scene. Ever.”

“Try me. Do one right now as we head to the signing,” she says, and we walk in that direction.

“No way.”

She pokes my side. “C’mon.”

“Fine, fine.” I clear my throat and adopt the most monotone tone ever. “He unzipped his jeans, comma, his thick cock springing free, period, my mouth watered, comma, and I said, open quote, your dick is a delicious summer sausage, close quote.”

She laughs. “You’re right. You’re exempt from ever dictating sex scenes in front of me again.”

“Thank you. Anyway, was I okay?” I ask nervously. “I felt extra sweaty today.”

She pretends to sniff me. “You don’t smell sweaty.”

“I’m being serious. Did I sound like a bitch? A know-it-all? A ding-dong?”

Her brow knits. “What? None of those. Why?”

“I always worry.”

“You were great. And I’m sure no one could tell you secretly want to bang Axel.”

I roll my eyes harder. She’s harped on this before. “News flash. You’re still wrong.”

“We’ll see.”

“No, we will not see,” I answer, drawing a clear line in the sand.

She smiles wickedly at me, then mouths I’m right. She’s such a stinker, but I’m still glad she’s here. “Thanks for coming. I know you came to see Kennedy. But I appreciate it nonetheless.”

“I’m here for you too. Let’s grab a drink after? Meet me at Gin Joint later?”

“I’ll be there,” I say, then I head into the signing room, energized from seeing readers and my sister, even though she’s still so dead wrong about me wanting to bang my archnemesis.



Later that night, when the signing ends, I grab my purse and leave the hotel solo, ready to head to Chelsea to meet my sister. When I reach the revolving door, I spot Axel standing outside, leaning against the glass facade of the hotel, looking cool and broody.