Page 25 of Scoring the Player
“No, I mean, I don’t know how to do anything. I’ve never…done it.”
Her comment strikes me as odd, but I’m too busy kissing her neck. She tastes so sweet.
“Felix?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Did you hear me, because it’s really embarrassing and I don’t want to repeat it if I don’t have to, but it doesn’t seem like you heard me.”
I stand straight to look at her, but keep our bodies close. I repeat her last words. “You’ve never done it.”
Oh fuck.
“Wait. You mean…”
Her face is so red, I know it’s true, but I ask anyway. “You’re a virgin?”
She squeezes her eyes shut. “Yes, but that’s not all.”
My brain isn’t working well enough to figure out what ‘that’s not all’ could possibly mean.
“I’ve never done anything. I’ve never even been kissed.”
My expression must show my shock because, when she opens her eyes, she immediately hides her face behind her hands. “Oh god, I’m so embarrassed. I just didn’t want you to kiss me and then I’d suck at it and the only thing I can think of that would be worse than you not kissing me, is if you kissed me and I was awful at it. I’m not a total moron; I know how to kiss. It’s just that I’ve never done it. And you’ve kissed lots of people. Not a lot like I’m grossed out about it. Just a normal, college-guy amount.”
I let her ramble because I’m still reeling. No knocking virgins—I get that there are all sorts of reasons a person decides to wait to have sex, but I was about to suggest we find a bathroom where I could finger her. And I probably would have scarred her for life. How in the hell has no one kissed her? I’m considering asking her, or maybe just taking her perfect mouth right here.
When she finally stops, she takes a deep breath. “I’m gonna go.”
“Wait.” I snap out of it as she takes a step away from me. “Don’t go.”
10
DAHLIA
Doyou know how humiliating it would be to die from embarrassment?
I feel dangerously close to it as Felix’s expression morphs between surprise and horror, then finally sympathy. Gross, sympathy is worse than horror. I don’t want his sympathy. I want to go back to thirty seconds ago when he was kissing my neck and pressing his dick against my leg.
“You caught me by surprise,” he says with a sheepish grin. “You’re so hot.”
“So only ugly people can be virgins?” I’m purposely goading him, but wait. Did he just say I was hot?
He makes a noise, something like a groan, deep in his throat, like what I imagine sex with him would sound like. Or maybe I’m still wishing we could go back to making out. Or almost making out. Sadly, I don’t think him kissing my neck counts. But wow, it was fun.
“Of course not. But how is it possible that no one has kissed you?” His stare drops to my lips, and I plead (internally, of course) for him to put his mouth on mine.
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
I glance around, hesitating to say more than I already have.
“Come on. Let’s grab a drink first,” he says and then takes my hand. This time, it feels way less sexual and more friendly. Ugh. There’s a real chance I’ve been relegated to the friend-zone. I should have kept my stupid mouth shut. Violet was wrong. Rambling is not better than freezing up.
Once he has a beer, he leads me to a couple free chairs on the patio. Bethany and Armstrong walk by, but his ex doesn’t even glance at us.
“Maybe she really likes him and just wants to rub it in your face a little. Not that I approve of that scenario either.”
