Page 6 of The List
“I see.” He folds my laptop cover closed, still regarding me with humor in his eyes. “But you don’t really want to do all those things on The List.”
That grin disarms me, and I appreciate that he’s not even pretending he didn’t read the list. Who wouldn’t? If someone handed me a computer with the words “Super awesome wild-ass (holy shit they’re gonna kill me) sex stuff to figure out before D-day” emblazoned in twenty-point font across the top of the page, damn straight I’d read it. I’m only human.
And so is Simon whatshisname, if the heat radiating from his body is any indication. His shoulder is touching mine, and I’m aware of just how hard he is everywhere—how amazing he smells. Like Jory soil and clover in the sunshine, which I swear is much more awesome than it sounds.
I remember he’s asked a question, though I’ve forgotten what it was.
Oh, right. Whether I really want to do all the things on The List.
“Right,” I say at last. “I guess I can’t pretend someone else came up with all the ideas?”
“You could, I suppose.” He grins. “I might not believe you, though.”
“True.” I clear my throat. “So maybe it’s just the product of an active imagination.”
“You have an excellent imagination.”
“Thank you.”
Note to self: get out more. I literally can’t tell if this hot guy is flirting with me or if it’s all in my head. Just like before, the uncertainty has me ready to spew awkward word vomit. Things like my phone number or bra size or favorite sex position, which would definitely cue the need for a restraining order.
I manage to keep my mouth shut this time and wait for him to say something else, but he just smiles at me. It feels hot in here, and I contemplate taking off my sweatshirt. Would he take it as an invitation?
Would I want him to?
I shift on the sofa, bumping his knee with mine. His hand shoots out as though to steady me, which is totally unnecessary, but it feels good on my thigh anyway. A hot guy is sitting on my couch, possibly flirting with me, and doesn’t seem freaked out by a crazy woman in sweatpants making a list of fake sex stories. Even weirder, he seems like he’s still waiting for an answer. Like he really wants to know if I like the idea of doing those things on the list.
“Maybe.” I swallow. “Maybe some of them.”
I can’t believe I’ve just said this out loud. It is hands down the boldest thing I’ve said in my entire life. I might throw up. I might throw up in front of a man so stupid-sexy he makes Ryan Gosling look like the Elephant Man.
This is not happening.
“In that case,” he says slowly, “I’d like to volunteer.”
“Volunteer?” My question comes out like a croak, which I’m sure he finds about as sexy as pocket lint.
“I’d like to help you out,” he says. “With item number four, to be precise.”
Item number four? I fumble back through my wine-tinged memories to recall which act I’d put in that spot on my list. It hits me with the force of a dick-slap on the cheek.
“Sex with an anonymous stranger!” I blurt.
“Well, I believe the way you wrote it was, ‘Crazyhawt sex with a dark-haired, anonymous stranger with great abs.’” He grins again, and it takes everything I have to keep from nodding stupidly.
Before I can say anything, he lifts the edge of his T-shirt to show a perfect washboard stomach. Holy shit, the man is ripped. I’d pegged him as more of a computer geek than a gym rat, but apparently the two can coexist. I open my mouth to say something, but close it fast so I don’t drool.
“So maybe I’d suffice.” He drops the hem of his shirt, and I feel my cheeks getting warm. Warmer. Christ, it’s at least two hundred degrees in here, and I’m pretty sure Hottie McGeekerson has something to do with that.
I feel myself melting into the sofa, but I don’t want him to know this. I take my best stab at bravado, straightening my spine and adopting what I hope is a look of perfect nonchalance. “What makes you think I’m even attracted to you?”
He laughs like this is the funniest thing he’s heard all week, which it just might be. I expect him to say something cocky and dickheadish that will totally kill the fantasy going on in my head right now.
Instead, he does the opposite. He leans in and kisses me.
Chapter 3
Simon
