Page 26 of Faking the Book Boyfriend

She waves and smiles as I approach. So fucking beautiful.

Without thinking, I bend to kiss her cheek and inhale her scent. “You look pretty. You smell nice too.”

She sucks in a breath. I clearly caught her off guard.

“Sorry. Umm…here’s your coffee with a splash of skim milk, per your request.” I hand it to her, practically shoving it into her hands.

She tentatively takes it from me. “Thank you. It was sweet of you to offer to buy it on your way.”

“My pleasure.”

She stands and lifts her purse strap so it’s running across her chest, and then links her arm through mine. “Let’s walk and talk while we drink our coffees.”

“Sounds good.”

Normally I’d be ecstatic that she’s touching me, but I can’t get hard.

Smelly locker rooms. Smelly locker rooms.

I seem okay, so I smile down at her. “Did you have a nice week?”

“I did, thank you.” She audibly exhales. “I was thinking about our conversation from the other night. I feel like I threw you into the deep end. We should take a step back and talk about some of the smaller things that book boyfriends do to make women happy.”

“Like what?”

“Well…” She looks down at our linked arms. “This. Subtle touching. Locked arms, holding hands, lower back touches, neck or arm touches, and basically any contact that’s not traditionally sexual. Book boyfriends often find it hard to keep their hands off their women. They want to be in her airspace at all times.”

I understand the feeling.

“Are those things you like?”

She thinks for a moment. “I think I would, with the right person. With the wrong person, I can imagine it would be a little suffocating.”

I think back to the two books of hers I read this week. There’s definitely a lot of touching. And she always has the men grabbing the women by the hips.

Incidentally, reading her books while my dick is healing was a mistake. In every fictitious sexual encounter, I was imagining her and me. My piercing kept pulling. I earmarked the sex scenes and will come back to them in another week or two.

“What about hips? I’m a hip man. I love touching the curve of a woman’s hip.”

I can’t help but look down at where her jeans hug her shapely hips perfectly. She’s effortlessly sensuous.

She swallows. “Absolutely. Hip grabbing is good.Verygood. Have you spoken with Jenna at all?”

I nod. “I have. I’m learning more about her every day.”

She smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “That’s great. Are you going to see her again?”

“Yes, today.”

“Wonderful. Make sure you’re engaged with her. Listen to her and respond accordingly. Don’t just nod your head. Ask follow-up questions. Men who talk about themselves throughout an entire date are red flags. They’re narcissists. Dating is about equally getting to know each other, right? Book boyfriends hang on every word from the object of their affection and respond accordingly.”

“Of course. What was your best first date?”

“Ooh. Tough one. It’s been a while since I’ve had a good first date.”

I see the moment it hits her. A small smile finds her full lips.

“I know this sounds cheesy, but when I was fifteen, I went on a date with a boy a year older than me. He drove, which was a big deal at the time. He picked me up at my house and opened the passenger’s side car door for me. When I looked inside, there was a single red rose sitting on the seat waitingfor me. It was just the sweetest, most thoughtful moment, and it set the tone for a nice evening.”

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