Okay, so I anticipated some shock, a chuckle or two, and definitely expected to see the look-away grin thing he does—where he really wants to smile at what I say but doesn’t want me to know he’s smiling.
What I did not expect was his face to remain so incredibly blank. Like, blank blank.
I’m talking if a wax figure of Crew Taylor existed, I’d swear someone froze time, kidnapped the real Crew, and placed the art version of him in front of me. He’s that still. That freaking stuck.
“So…” I drag out when I take several sips of hot tea and wax Crew doesn’t so much as lower those long lashes. “I wrote out the pros and cons, and when that started to go in an entirely different direction—don’t ask—I decided…” I dig into my book bag, pulling out the clear protective-sleeve-covered paper inside it.
“You wrote an essay.” He speaks so monotone I have to wonder if he meant to say those words in his head, but then, with measured movements, his fingertips come down on the table, slowly pressing, stretching, and gliding along the painted iron. “You wrote an essay?”
I nod.
“About why you and me should have sex?”
“Yes,” I say instantly, but then shake my head. “I mean no.”
He frowns. “Yes or no?”
“Yes and no.” I sit forward, set the plastic slip down, and tap it with my pointer finger. “It’s a persuasive essay detailing all the reasons why you should have sex with me.” I sit back, folding my hands in my lap.
It’s simple, really brief, precise, and only took me a few days.
We won’t talk about the many months of planning and pep talks leading to this moment.
Crew’s gaze sharpens. “You do realize it takes two people to have sex, right?”
“Right, but—”
“No buts.” He leans forward, his eyes locked on mine. “Sex is not one sided.”
“Will you stop saying sex over and over again?”
His eyes widen as his head tugs back. “You want to have sex, but you can’t handle hearing the word?”
“I can handle it fine. It’s science. I am great at science.” Did he forget who he’s talking to? “But the girl to your left looks over every time you say it.”
“Fuck me.” He runs his large hands down his face, and his attention falls back on me, with a heavy, set glare. “Sex,” he says even louder than before. “Should not be looked at as science, just like it’s not one person fucking the other. It’s about both people. Who they are, how they know each other, what both want, like, and how they like it.”
“Well…” My face flames and I know my skin is wildly flushed. His eyes dart to my cheekbones, inadvertently confirming what I did not need confirmed. “I know you; you know how we know each other, and the rest you can fill me in on. It’s not rocket science. There is a proper practice for everything, and I’m more than sure if sex were an exam, you’d ace it. You could probably lead a lecture on it.”
“Stop,” he snaps.
I scowl. “Stop what?”
“Doing that.”
“Doing what?”
His jaw clenches, and when this happens, nothing good can come of it.
Like that one time we went to Six Flags and the probability of getting a sunburn was literally not even a question and so me and Drew, Crew’s superhot, younger than him, but older than me, brother took turns putting it on each other. Crew, being prone to punching, gave his brother a fat lip while mine ripped his wristband off. Poor guy had to go get back in line, and by the time he made it inside again, we were long gone.
Okay, that was mild. He and Drew boxed all the time, but still! Lock-jawed Crew means he’s annoyed, and when he’s annoyed, you can only sit back and wait for whatever happens next.
Typically, it’s a slightly stressful shit show.
Suddenly, he jerks to his feet, tucking his phone back in his pocket. “I don’t know why I’m listening to this shit. Go to class, Baby Franco.” He shoves the paper back at me. “And get rid of this fucking thing.”
“You didn’t even read it.”
An incredulous laugh leaves him, and he tosses cash on the table, even though he didn’t order a dang thing. “I don’t need to read it.”
He starts leaving, so I quickly snatch up my bag, the paper he left behind, and follow him.
“So, you agree, then?” I ask once we’re outside the little patio area.
“What, no!” He jerks to a stop, spinning to face me. “I do not agree. You shouldn’t agree, either. You’re not doing this.”
“I am twenty-one and a virgin. That is like… that’s like graduating high school having never kissed anyone before.”
He blinks, crossing his arms over his chest.
Tucking the extremely convincing, if I do say so myself, essay under my arm, I reach into my bag once more. “I hoped I was wrong, but I pretty much knew I wasn’t.”
Crew lifts a dark brow, so I lift one right back.
I tear out the second clear sleeve with another paper. “Which is why I also wrote this.”
“Davis—”
“You know when I would sneak into your room at night to play Clue, and you would swear I always found a way to cheat, so I would win?”
His eyes narrow, and my grin grows.
“I never cheated. I simply outsmarted you, but this, it kind of feels like cheating, because I know it ensures I win.”
His brows are nearly touching now. “You are out of your mind if you think I will have anything to do with this.” He creeps closer. “And you’re downright dumb if you think I’ll allow anyone else to either.”
“You’ve always claimed I was kind of crazy.” Shoving the paper in his chest, I shrug, and then I head to class, knowing at some point, Crew will call.
Until then, I’ll keep getting waxed.
I’m nothing if not prepared.
