Page 26 of The Dating Pact

I didn’t know exactly where the idea came from, but I blamed the next words out of my mouth on being high. “Practice on me.”

EIGHT

JUDE

Icouldn’t have heard her correctly, and I tucked a hank of hair behind my ear. “You want me to what?”

“Practice on me,” she repeated, though she kept her gaze down this time, focused on tossing away the butt of the joint.

“Practice what on you?”

She circled her hands like she didn’t know what to do with them now that they were empty. “Your moves. Practice them on me.”

I looked around, bemused, stunned…curious. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, I mean…” She shrugged. “If you’re so anxious about it. Practice makes perfect.”

This idea was ridiculous yet made sense. There was no one else I would be comfortable talking to about this.

Doing it with.

“Practice makes perfect,” I agreed, trying and failing to bite back a smile. I felt delirious. “You’re so high.”

She grinned. “So are you.”

I gestured between us. “Won’t it be weird?”

“No. We’re friends. Nothing’s going to change that.”

“Even when I put on the charm?”

She laughed in my face, and I shot her a scowl, which only made her laugh harder, falling into my side. I hooked my arm around her neck, pulling her into a headlock, and she flailed.

“Is your move to make your girl pass out?” she panted in between giggles.

When I eventually let her go, she smiled at me, flushed and so pretty that I swore she shone. “Okay. Okay.” She held out her hands, palms down, as if calming excited children or feral rodents. Basically the same thing. “Pretend I’m…what’s her name?”

“Melissa.”

“Pretend I’m Melissa and we’re alone and you’re feeling randy.”

“Randy?”

“I hate the word horny.”

“But is it worse than randy?”

She pursed her lips, thinking quite seriously. After a moment, she wrinkled her nose. “Add it to the list. Don’t use horny or randy.”

I wrote an imaginary list in the air. “Got it.”

She crooked a smile my way. “So, I’m Melissa. How would you let me know you want to move things along?”

I swallowed, dragging my gaze over my friend. My buddy, whom I shouldn’t have been attracted to. In that glossy gold top, displaying the rounded tops of her breasts, and dark jeans molded to her thighs. Without thinking, I reached out to her shoulder and skimmed the tip of my index finger along the thick strap of her tank top.

Her skin was soft and tanned from the sun. I flattened my hand, wrapping my fingers around her arm, feeling her skin warm under my palm. Her chest rose and fell with each of her breaths, the pendant on the end of her long necklace swaying ever so slightly. I grasped it in my other hand, lifting it up to admire it.

“This is nice,” I said, forcing my eyes up to hers, finding them sort of unfocused.

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