Page 7 of Savage in the Sheets
“That must be soooo easy for you to say. Women throw themselves at you. And…there were plenty of rumors going around the college campuses about your…considerable skill level.”
“Do you think I was born with it? No, it took practice and a dedication to learning female anatomy.”
Somehow I feel my cheeks burn two shades brighter.
“And if you walked into any bar across America, there isn’t a red-blooded man that wouldn’t take you home, and that’s the God’s-honest truth. You have magazine-worthy good looks, and I’m not saying that because I’m your friend.”
He’s not wrong. I was blessed with good looks, but they don’t seem to overcome my terrible social skills.
Weston tugs at my hand playfully. “I have a gift for you.”
“Oh?”
He grabs a bag he placed on the counter and hands it over to me. I look inside and see a series of movies: There’s Something About Mary, 50 First Dates, Charlie’s Angels.
“What are these?”
“Each of these movies have kick-ass women in them that are guaranteed to hook a man.”
I hold up 50 First Dates. “Really, because this woman suffers from constant amnesia?”
“But…she’s still cool.”
“Wes, I appreciate you, I really do...but this is a lot to take in, and I don’t even know where to start.”
Wes holds up a movie. “We start here.”
Weston
Monday comes too soon. I roll out of bed with a groan, stretching my limbs as I struggle to turn off my alarm.
Is this what happens when I get too much sleep? I only wonder this because I had a rare weekend in, spent watching chick flicks with Jenna.
Usually, we meet up a couple times during the week for coffee or lunch, watch a show Friday night, and I hit up a bar on Saturday and spend Sunday trying to figure out how to ditch whatever pretty lady I went home with the night before.
My level of intoxication stayed pretty low over the course of our movie marathon, and I ended up getting to bed at a reasonable hour.
As it turns out, waking up refreshed isn’t quite as refreshing as it might seem.
I go through the motions of showering, dressing, and brushing my teeth, but I’m not truly awake until I have my first cup of coffee.
It’s then that I fully process my weekend with Jenna.
We binged watched the rom-coms, analyzing each of the main characters and why men found them desirable. It was fun, even when Jenna came to the conclusion that in order for men to want you, you must be crazy.
Her logic wasn’t too far off-base.
We talked more about hot topics in conversations and decided there was a need for on-the-job training, so tonight she’s going to go shopping for some fun and flirty clothes with a girlfriend, and tomorrow we’re hitting up a bar with my coworkers to ply her new skills.
My phone buzzes, and I look to see a text from Meghan, a hookup from two weeks ago that is cousins with Dan, a guy from accounting.
Meghan:Hey, Stud! I’ll be going to happy hour with Dan tomorrow. I hope to see you there.
Tousled dark hair, amber brown eyes, tiny little waist and an ass that you could bounce a quarter off of. I should be happy that she’s coming along, but I find myself lacking enthusiasm.
Thinking on it, however, I realize this will probably be necessary for the mission. There’s a good chance that when Jenna and I go to happy hour, we’re going to talk to each other more than anyone else. Having Meghan there will draw my attention away, and Jenna will be forced to interact with others at the table.
I enter the text box to reply.
