Page 14 of Getting Lucky Number Seven

“If you wanna experiment,” I said, “I hear college is a good time for girls to kiss girls. I’ll supervise.”

Lyla smacked my chest, harder than she’d ever done before. “Don’t be pervy.”

I laughed, rubbing the spot she’d hit as if I were really injured. “If you’re doing this experiment, there’s something you should know. All guys are pervy. Some just hide it better than others.”

She frowned at me. “All guys?”

The disappointment in her voice almost caused me to take it back. But she should know what she was getting herself into. I saw how hurt she was when her boring dud of a boyfriend broke up with her—it’d be way too easy for some player jackass to use her and leave her crushed.

Even though I told myself not to soften it, I found myself saying, “You’ve got your complete assholes, and then there are the guys who are actually good guys and do their best to be decent. You want to go for the nicer pervs.”

The dimple in her cheek showed up as a smile broke free.

I cupped her elbow, and okay, I might’ve accidentally on purpose brushed my thumb across her soft skin. “Buzzed enough to try a keg stand?”

She glanced over to where people were filling their cups up from the tap. “No one else is doing one, though. Wouldn’t it be weird if I did it now? And you know, won’t people be a little grossed out afterward that my germs are on the—”

I slid my hand down to hers and tugged her toward the keg. “Trust me, people won’t care, and within a few minutes, I guarantee there will be at least a couple of guys circling. Then you can try out your new moves.”

If I knew she wouldn’t regret backing out, I wouldn’t push, but I could see that she wanted to break free for a night. Her years of being a rule follower, not to mention how she overanalyzed everything, just held her back. Once we got to the keg, it took all of two seconds to find another spotter and someone to work the tap.

I explained exactly how to do it, and Lyla’s eyes went wide as she gripped the metal rim. “Ready?” I asked, but we were already hoisting her up.

The crowd counted the seconds. They got to eight before she kicked out and we set her down. She spun to the other guy, putting her hands on his arms to steady herself. At first I thought she was putting my instructions to good use, but when she stumbled back, saying, “Sorry,” I realized she’d thought it was me.

I put my hand on her shoulder and slowly spun her around. “I’m here. You okay?”

She nodded.

“Want to go again?”

She shook her head. Already there were more girls lined up, ready to get the attention they so badly wanted, while Lyla was pushing away from it as fast as she could. The other guy who’d held her up obviously would’ve been happy to chat with her—he’d done less holding her up and more staring at her boobs.

A thread of heat stitched its way through my gut, but I worked to push it back. Lyla wanted to be seen as the hot girl. With the outfit she had on, I could hardly get pissed at every guy who ogled her like she was nothing more than a toy for them to play with.

She wobbled as we made our way from the crowd, and I caught her around the waist. I wasn’t sure if she was feeling the effects of the alcohol or if it was those shoes that made her legs look so damn good. When her eyes met mine, though, she smiled. “At least I did it.”

“You did.”

“That beer was super disgusting, though.” She wrinkled her adorable little nose. “I think the taste is going to be in my mouth forever.”

“I’ll go get you something else. Just Coke, or do you want rum in it again?”

“Maybe a little rum?”

“On it.”

I made sure she had a wall to lean on and then headed back to the drink table. While I was there, I ran into Jeff, one of my teammates, and an all-around good guy. One of the nice pervs, I suppose, which gave me an idea.

“Hey, you see that girl over there?”

Jeff followed my pointed finger. “The redhead with the nice rack?”

That same hot pinch went through my gut, and I again told it to shut up. Lyla wanted to make out with a stranger, and who was I to stop her? I’d tried to give her the skills to draw a guy in for a longer conversation, too, but now that she was drunk? Well, who knew what she’d say?

“Go take her this,” I said, placing the rum and Coke in his hand, “and chat with her for a while. Even if she… Just talk to her, okay? Make sure you tell her she looks nice—leave the rack out of it.”

He nodded and took a step toward her. I caught his shoulder, halting his progress. “You can kiss her if she seems interested, but that’s as far as it goes. Put your hands on her and I’ll make it my personal mission to ensure you limp home from practice every day.”

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