Page 45 of The Law of Attraction

‘You’ve never been to an actual concert, with a known band?’

I fight against my lips, which are curling already because I know how ridiculous the truth is.

Becky swivels, lifting one knee onto the bench. ‘Oh my God, is it that bad? Who? Tell me.’

‘*NSYNC.’

She actually folds over, she’s laughing so much.

‘Come on, it’s not so bad. Millie wanted to go, and I said I’d go with her.’ When she’s composed, she sits back on the bench, our arms touching. ‘You realize I’m never telling you anything again?’

‘Drew, honestly, there’s a good chance I wouldn’t want you to if all the answers are *NSYNC.’

We fall silent for a moment; then I start humming the tune to *NSYNC’s ‘This I Promise You,’ which sets her off like she’s been on laughing gas… again.

As she laughs, my cell phone rings in the inside pocket of my jacket. I take it out but don’t recognize the number. I should answer. But for the first time since I can remember, there’s something more important. I silence the call and put the phone back in my pocket.

12

DREW

Back at the house, Becky is roped into showing my mom, Millie and the kids how to bake ‘real’ cakes. After the salty, humid air, we both need showers first. I tell Becky to shower before me and take a seat on the sofa with my dad and Eddie to watch the last five minutes of the current quarter of college football: actually a rerun from last season but a game I didn’t see live. It’s nice, doing nothing, at home. My mind isn’t thinking of anything other than the touchdown I’m watching. It’s a rare moment and one that I don’t want to overthink. If I do, I know I will somehow bring it back to Becky. Something about her influence. The way she affects me. That I probably wouldn’t have come this weekend if she wasn’t around.

Yep, that’s where I wasn’t going.

My quiet time ruined, I push up from the sofa and make my way upstairs. I hear the shower water running, so I dip into my bedroom to grab a change of clothes and a towel. Not without my mind wandering to Becky’s naked body under the hot water. I’d bet she looks hot naked. That ass. What I’d give to put my hands on that fine behind.

‘Drew, I’m going to put in a load of whites, do you have anything?’ my mom shouts up the stairs, zapping my lascivious thoughts.

I peel my white T-shirt over my head and take off my socks, then pad out to the landing in my jeans, and throw the laundry down the stairs where my mom is there to catch it. I come back into my room, and my attention is pulled straight to the poster of Melanie Finlay.

Christ, I’m twelve again. Now all I need is to rub one out over Becky and develop a zit.

I put my towel down and pull Melanie Finlay off the wall. I ball her up and try to throw her, and my raging testosterone, in the waste basket. Once this weekend is over, I’m putting some distance between Becky and me. Not forever. Just long enough to stop thinking about her naked. Imagining how my hands would feel roaming over h—

‘Oh my God!’

I turn sharply to face the door, where Becky is standing with wet hair, covered only in a towel, which really doesn’t cover much of her at all.

My eyes refuse to stay on her face, and my already semi-hard Prince Harrington jolts as I trace a line from her lips, across her bare chest, around her towel-covered hips, down those toned legs. I’ve never been more thankful for the heavy hold of denim around my fly.

‘Sorry, I was just grabbing some clothes.’ The break in my voice betrays how much my body is desperately fighting against my mind. I’m in my parents’ house and my body is screaming at me…Let me take her to bed, please!The combination of my nervous system breaking down and my semi leaves me rooted to the floor, staring at Becky, whose cheeks are the color of red hot se—

‘Ah, Jesus.’ I drag my hands over my face. Of all times, my cell starts to ring. It’s sitting on the desk right by where she’s standing. I take a step toward it and falter. I end up in some kind of dance with Becky, both of us stepping to one side, then the other. I place my hands on her shoulders to make sure we pass each other, but the heat that radiates between us when our skin touches has me stupid again.

We’re so close, I wonder if she can hear my heart pounding in my chest. If she was anyone else, she would be on the bed right now, under me.

I squeeze my eyes shut and the phone stops ringing. With my eyes closed, I navigate around her. I blindly fumble my way to the doorway, when I realize I have left my towel behind. Opening one eye, I move past her again and grab it from the bed.

There was heat between us. Blazing heat. Like a goddamn inferno. I felt it. My body definitely felt it. But now, her hand is pressed to her mouth, disguising what I know is a smirk because those damn irresistible eyes are glistening with amusement.

‘If we’re going to continue this platonic thing, you’re going to have to wear more clothes,’ I grumble as I stomp into the hallway, as if my uncontrollable testosterone levels are entirely her fault.

‘I could say the same for you!’ she calls out.

I slam and lock the bathroom door. I’m still feeling like thunder when I step under the hot spray, which does nothing to cool my man piece. She’s in my head. Sex is in my head. I brace my hands on the tiles in front of me and watch as water falls from my body to the floor.

This is a test. Like the Garden of Eden. Becky is the goddamned apple, and she looks so appetizing. But biting the fruit will cost the grand prize of Statham Harrington Law Firm.

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