More Than Good Enough(38)

Yeah, I was losing it.

Big time.

Michelle had never kissed me like that. I don’t even think she liked kissing. I know it’s not cool to rate your ex. Don’t get me wrong—the sex was really hot. I’m talking off-the-charts hot, like, sex in the key of awesome. But let’s be honest. Even off-the-charts sex gets boring after a while, if that’s all you’ve got.

At first, it seemed like Pippa was into it. We were sweating like crazy and the windows were all smeared up. Then she put on this self-conscious act, which I wasn’t buying for one second. If you look that good, you have to know it. And the stuff she normally wore was far from nun-like.

“What happened to your tights?” I whispered.

“My tights? I didn’t feel like wearing them, I guess. What’s wrong with jeans?”

“Nothing. I like you in jeans.”

She gave me this hurt look, as if I’d slapped her. God. Say something nice and she takes it as a put-down.

I leaned in for another kiss, but she turned and I ended up with my face in her hair. My usual moves had zero effect. I tried digging my thumbs into her shoulders, rubbing circles around her pressure points—a shiatsu technique I learned from this paperback I’d found lying around my mom’s house, Oriental Massage for Therapeutic Touch. I’d skip over the New Age garbage about unblocking your chi and flip to the good parts, all those full-color pictures of sleepy-looking girls lying half-naked on their stomachs.

Pippa moved my hands away. “This is getting too intense.”

Talk about stating the obvious. My brilliant suggestion? “We could go somewhere. It’s your call. Whatever you want to do.”

“I don’t want to do anything.”

Okay.

The front yard wasn’t exactly a VIP lounge. “Maybe we could walk around?” As soon as the words fell out, I knew she would laugh.

“Walk … where exactly?” She glanced out the window. Nothing but pavement and the constant push-pull of headlights. What the hell was I thinking? I felt bad about dragging her into this situation. Pippa was more the stay-at-home and watch-movies-on-demand kind of girl. Actually, that sounded cool to me.

“This Michelle person … ” She trailed off.

“You hate me, right? I can totally feel the hate rays,” I said.

“I don’t hate you, Trent. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.”

“I’m not with her anymore, if that’s what you mean.”

“Really? I didn’t get that impression from your dad.”

“It’s over. In fact, it’s been over for like … centuries.”

Pippa didn’t look convinced. “You’re friends then?”

“I’ve got enough friends, thank you very much.”

“Friends with benefits?”

Whoa. I didn’t see that coming.

Might as well tell the truth.

I took a breath and let it out. “We hooked up at my dad’s house. This was before you came along. Yeah, sleeping with my ex. Probably not the smartest decision. Whatever. It just happened.”

“So that makes it okay?”

“It won’t happen again. That’s a promise.”

“You shouldn’t make promises,” she said. “Not unless you really mean it.”

Now I was getting heated. “Come on, Pippa. Don’t act so perfect. Sometimes there’s, like, no clear line when you’re breaking up. Know what I mean?”

Pippa kept staring out the window. “No. I don’t.”

That’s when it hit me. Oh my god. How could I be so dense?

“So you haven’t … ”

She looked straight into my eyes. I had no doubt when she said, “I’m still a virgin.”

The word dangled between us. It sounded weird, hearing it out loud, like from a fairy tale of the Middle Ages, the “virgin princess” locked in a castle. Or a saint who gets burned at the stake just because they believed in something.

Pippa wasn’t a saint or a stuck-up princess.

She was the realest person I knew.

She was also really sexy, in the coolest way possible. In other words, she didn’t have to try.

“You want to ditch me now? Let’s get it over with,” she said.

“Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know.” She twisted her necklace—one of those vending machine prizes made of rainbow candy.

“Did somebody do that to you?” I asked.

She didn’t answer my question. Then again, she didn’t have to.

“Well,” I said. “Whoever he is … I’d like to break his face.”

“That’s kind of unnecessary.”

“I’ll hold him down and you can go first,” I said, punching the air. “We could charge admission. What do you think?”

“I think you’re crazy.” She laughed.

At least I got her to smile again.

“That guy was an *. I can’t justify his actions,” I told her. “But please don’t think all guys are like that.”

“I’m starting to believe you.”

“Good. Because he didn’t realize what he had. Even more, he didn’t deserve it.”