Page 30 of Studious
“Would you want to kiss me?” Danny’s question isn’t teasing or an offer. It comes out as a genuine inquiry.
My huffed-out laugh is loud and fast. “Yes. I mean, no, that’s not right.”
I can’t believe I’m talking about kissing with Danny while he’s wearing only boxers and looking so kissable I could die from…something. Desire or shame, not sure which. It could go either way.
Right now, it’s looking like shame since I’m aghast that I managed to ask my crush for help.
Oh, shit.
This is going to implode. I’m going to lose my job and be blackballed from ever working again.
I take a deep breath. I’ve come this far, and I’m ashamed enough as it is to both be a virgin and be asking one of my new bosses for help. I’m not going to leave here without having done my best to plead my case. Except…
“I’d like to kiss you, but I wouldn’t want you to feel guilted into it,” I say.
“Fair enough,” Danny says. “But that isn’t what I meant. I’m just trying to figure out where you’re coming from. You want me to help you find someone else to kiss.”
Now or never.
“Yes, and I want you to teach me how to kiss. And how to have sex.”
Danny chokes on his coffee but recovers quickly. “Like, be a sex tutor?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus. I need a moment.” He puts his cup down and takes a deep breath. “Do you have any idea how enticing the idea of being someone’s first is? At least to a guy like me?”
“So will you help me? Because the only dates I’ve been on have sucked. I’m not having any luck at all.”
He rubs a hand over his face. “I’m trying to figure out what it is you’re asking. What exactly do you want me to teach you, and how? Because I’m not fucking you,” he adds quickly. “I mean, you’re plenty fuckable. But I’m not the right one for you. You should save that for someone you care about.”
“You don’t have that kind of restriction.”
“I don’t do feelings or commitments. So the emotional part of sex doesn’t matter to me.”
“I don’t want it to matter for me, either. I’m sick of this.” I gesture at myself helplessly.
He’s silent for a long moment. Then he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but I think it’s a bad idea. I can’t do it.”
Disappointment swells in my stomach, though I can’t say I’m surprised. He’s out of my league. My headache threatens to burst through the dulling from the pain pills. “I get it. No worries. I’m not your type. Fine.”
“It has nothing to do with that. You’re sexy, and I don’t have a type. But you’re too sweet and innocent to be trying to become a guy like me.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, and pick up my dishes. “Thanks for breakfast.” I’m so embarrassed. I can’t believe Danny had to see me drunk. I can’t believe he took me home and put me to bed. And I can’t believe I asked him to teach me how to seduce guys. If I could burn up from mortification, I would. “I’m sorry for asking.”
“Hey, it’s nothing. Don’t worry. You’re okay. We’re good.” He glances up at me. “It’s just that you don’t need my help with this. You’re great exactly how you are.”
I let out an exasperated huff. “Yeah, yeah. I know all that positive self-talk stuff. What I don’t know is how to get a guy into bed. That’s all I was asking.” I redden. “I mean, you have this reputation of being a sex god. You can have any guy you want. And I want to be like that. I want to know what I’m doing.”
“Trust me, you don’t want to be a player.”
“It seems to be working out pretty well for you,” I argue.
He shrugs. “But you’re not me.”
“I don’t want to be you,” I mutter. “I just want to be a better version of me.”
Danny opens his mouth to say something—presumably argue more—but then appears to change his mind. He gives me a tight smile. “Tell you what: I’ll think about it. Give me some time, okay? Let’s get your things.”
