Page 38 of Nerdelicious
“Can I ask you a question?” Morgan Freeman’s voice asks, startling me out of my daze. He’s not leaning in to have me watch him type this time. Probably smart. Keep our distance.
“Right, yes. Of course.” I roll my hand in a circle. “Shoot.”
He types and then looks at me before the words emerge. “Was it okay?”
A hysterical laugh threatens to bubble out of my throat. I swallow it down. “Beast, that was more than okay.”
His head cocks at me for a second and then he’s typing again. “Does it always get intense like that?”
“Truthfully? No. Not in my limited experience.” Never. I was never this insanely turned on with Jack, not even when we first started dating. Granted, I was only sixteen, but still. The boiling devastation that erupted just now is like nothing I ever experienced with Jack, even as we got older and more comfortable with each other. I never had my brain turn itself off and reboot.
“That’s good right?”
I nod. “It was good. It was very good.” It was too good. “I don’t think you’ll need any more of my help in that department. The department oflooove,” I crack with a forced chuckle.Shut up, Fred.My hands clench in my lap. I need a cold shower.
This was a terrible idea. The best, most terrible idea.
He puts his phone on the seat between us. Then we drive back to Granny’s.
He stops in the driveway, but leaves the truck in idle.
“Not staying tonight?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
“Right. Okay.”
His hands stay on the steering wheel, knuckles white with the force of his grip.
What do I do? Shake hands? Hug? Kiss him goodbye? That last thought is too appealing. I open the door and slide out. “Bye. Have a good night. Drive safe. See ya later.”
Shut up, Fred!
He nods, his expression inscrutable, and I slam the door, running up to the house. Beast doesn’t pull away until I have the door open. The tires crunch over the gravel and I don’t look back.
Chapter Eleven
“He’s old.”
“Like how old?”
“Like, he was alive beforeSupernaturalwas even on the air.”
–Overheard at Comic-Con
“Have you heard anything about any of the jobs you applied for?” Reese tilts back against the headrest, the better to see me in the back seat.
We’re in Annabel’s car. Grace is sprawled across the seat next to me, her head against the window, mouth open, snoring slightly. Lord knows when she finally went to sleep. She was clicking and tapping at computer keys in the middle of the night. Grace is lucky she didn’t have to wake up with the guys. They left at the crack of dawn to reserve our spot. And Beast and I worked last night. He must be exhausted.
I’m surprised he didn’t ride with us so he could sleep in a little longer, but I guess the guys all wanted his help with hefting the camp supplies.
I frown. Kind of rude of them, actually.
It’s been a week since our “kissing practice.” If I can even call it that. More like “making Fred explode due to sexual frustration practice.”
But it doesn’t matter. It’s not happening again. There has been no kissing, or mention of the kissing, for the last week, only the occasional question on how to respond to a text from Caroline. Which is a good thing. We’re friends. Friends don’t make out. Friends don’t ogle their other friends from across the bar when they’re stacking chairs. Friends don’t get flustered when their buddy tosses ornery drunks out of the bar while looking all cut and impressive and intimidating and handsome.
Wait, what did Reese just ask me?
