Page 34 of His Virgin Romance Series

I turned to face him. “Yes.”

Brent’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t ask for my permission.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to.”

“Dude, we’re supposed to be friends,” he said.

“I’m sorry, man,” I said. “Really. I should have spoken to you first. But you knew Rachel and I were talking…”

“As friends,” he pointed out. “I didn’t know you wanted to get in her pants.”

“It’s not like that, okay?” I said, choosing to omit the fact that we had already slept together on this very couch about an hour ago. “I really like Rachel. I care about her a lot, and I don’t intend to hurt her.”

Brent listened carefully. “What are your intentions with my sister?”

I frowned. “Are you being serious right now?”

Brent’s face relaxed. “I just always wanted to say that,” he said. “But I am serious about one thing… If you hurt my sister, I’ll beat the living crap out of you—got it?”

“Got it,” I nodded. “Does that mean I have your blessing?”

Brent made a face and then shrugged to indicate that it was more like a grudging acceptance rather than an outright blessing, but I would take it. The more pressing problem at the moment was where Rachel was. It would be ironic for Brent to be okay with Rachel and I dating, only for Rachel to decide that she never wanted to see me again.

“Thanks,” I said. “So, you have no idea where Rachel is, then?”

“You were the one at the movies with her,” Brent pointed out.

“We had a little…misunderstanding,” I said evasively. “And she ran out on me.”

“What did you do?” Brent asked, raising one eyebrow at me.

“Nothing. I just ran into an old girlfriend and Rachel… I guess she got upset.”

“Huh,” Brent said. “Never pegged Rachel for the jealous type.”

He sat down on his couch and put his feet up. “You can wait here for her if you want,” he said, chomping on more chips.

“I think I will,” I decided, sitting down next to Brent.

I figured if she had decided to walk home, she’d still need a little more time getting here. I groaned in frustration.

“So, who was it?” he asked.

“What?”

“Who was the ex-girlfriend you bumped into?”

“Oh… Anna,” I replied.

“Fuck, I remember her,” Brent nodded. “She was hot—definitely a nine. Maybe even a nine-point-five now that I think about it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Do you still do that?”

“Do what?”

“Rate women based on appearance?”

“Sure.” Brent nodded. “Every man does.”

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