Page 11 of The Love Playbook

Gathering up her notebook and pen, she places them in the bag slung off the back of her chair and stands. “Alright, I think we’re off to a good start. I’ll see you tomorrow Jackson.”

With that, she bends, kisses me on the cheek, and disappears, her scent a mix of sweet and spice lingering behind her.

I am in way over my head.

* * *

Picking a restaurant really shouldn’t be this difficult. I know it shouldn’t. But I’ve never done this before, so I have no idea what to pick. Fancy? Not too fancy? Casual?

When I texted Autumn to ask, she told me I should pick somewhere I’d be comfortable. But there’s not anywhere I’ll be any more comfortable than anywhere else, really …

Normally I’d ask Eli, but I don’t want to get into the nature of my relationship with Autumn with him again. He’d either try to warn me off again, congratulate me, or ask a bunch of questions in disbelief. I’m not sure which would be worse, and I don’t really want to find out.

My other go to option is to pay attention to what the other guys are saying about this kind of thing—where they take dates they want to impress. But having never planned on dating, really, I always ignored those conversations. And since I’m an idiot and suggested the very next night, there isn’t really time for that.

I just have to pick something.

Scrolling through the Google search results again, I decide on Luigi’s. I’ve been there before, so I know it’ll be good. And since it’s a Monday night, it shouldn’t be too crowded, especially by seven. The dinner rush should be winding down by then.

I text Autumn the details the next afternoon between classes after finally making my decision—she said it was important so she could dress appropriately—and am rewarded with an enthusiastic response.

Autumn:Great! I’m really looking forward to it!

I stare at the text for a lot longer than I should, trying to parse hidden meanings. Is she excited because she actually wants to have dinner with me? Or …?

What exactly is she getting out of this arrangement after all?

CHAPTER SIX

Autumn

I scrunch a little mousse into my damp hair to make the most of my waves, hitting it with the blow dryer, then scrunching again to get rid of the lingering crunch. Excitement thrums through my blood as I select my outfit for tonight—my cream crocheted halter and my favorite knee length flirty skirt—that I pair with my rose quartz pendant to help promote romance and attraction all around. It settles just above my cleavage, drawing attention with both its color and placement.

A smile comes to my face unbidden as I imagine Jackson’s eyes tracking back to it over and over again, checking out my boobs each time. Definitely a boob guy. And I have a nice rack, if I say so myself. Not enormous, but a respectable handful, even for a guy with big hands like Jackson. And as a wide receiver—the starter this year—big hands are a must for him.

The thought of those big hands roaming over my body sends shivers of delight racing down my spine.

I shouldn’t get too ahead of myself, though. I’m imagining him doing it like he knows what he’s doing. It’ll be a while before we get to that point. His first efforts are likely to be hesitant and accompanied by those adorable blushes.

Still, I can work with that.

Honestly, it’s kind of hot. I’ve never been with a guy as inexperienced as him, and the prospect of turning him into the perfect lover is a huge turn on.

Ignoring the throb between my legs while I finish my makeup, I focus on the lessons we’re working on tonight—getting through a date and getting a goodnight kiss.

He’s not ready for anything beyond that yet.

Though when he is … well, I’m looking forward to that.

I’ve had a long dry spell this summer. Between splitting my time between my parents’ houses, I didn’t have the energy to put into the kind of pleasure exchange I generally prefer. And while it’s true that what I have with Jackson doesn’t quite fit that description either, it’s interesting enough—different in a good way—to engage me.

Maybe that’s the real reason I didn’t bother finding anyone over the summer, or the end of last semester either, really—I’m bored with my usual sexual experiences. I tend to go for the same type of guy—pretty, up for anything, not always the brightest crayon in the box. Safe, really. Those guys don’t expect too much of me, and I don’t expect too much of them. Although, there are the ones who don’t like that I can so easily move on. Another reason to not pursue anything with anyone. That kind of drama gets old.

But Jackson, while pretty, is smart. And so shy. He’s obviously interested enough to want to break out of his shell, but I feel like I might need a metaphorical crowbar to pry that shell open enough to help him escape.

Everything with Jackson will be different. I can already tell. And that, more than anything, is what has me so excited.

I honestly can’t remember the last time I was this excited to get together with a guy, especially since I know the most that will happen is a goodnight kiss. But even that has pleasant tingles starting between my thighs.

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