Page 68 of Playing Games

Because fuck, Idolove her.

If I’m honest, I’m fully in love with Lexi, and I have been for a while. Heartbreak at stake or not, there’s no going back.

Tuesday, July 8th

Lexi

I wake up wrapped in warmth, and when I blink my eyes open, I find my body curled against Blake’s big, muscular frame—the little spoon to his big spoon. He’s still asleep, and I carefully glance over my shoulder to take in his face.

His chest is bare, and his hair is a sleepy but sexy mess. His eyes are shut, and his lashes are thick and long. Those lashes would be a true envy for women who are fixated on their physical appearance, but for some reason, on Blake, they’re just right. They’re one of many pieces of his alluring puzzle—tested and retested via extensive app—that make him the kind of guy who can pretty much get any girl he wants on campus.

Sure, his persona as the Dragons’ star quarterback certainly helps his appeal, but there’s more to it than that. Blake Boden is one heck of a specimen for the male species. Not only does his impressive athleticism give off modern-day gladiator vibes, but the way he straddles the line of confident and cocky but down-to-earth and relatable at the same time only adds to his charisma.

The more I get to know him, the less I need an AI algorithm to explain the appeal to me.

Frankly, his sexual prowess alone would take several hours of data entry in Polarize, and I’d much rather spend that time letting him prove his worth via orgasms.

I’ve never had more than two orgasms in a single session—with my own hands—but last night, Blake gave mefour. The final orgasm, even more impressively, didn’t fall off in intensity at all and, instead, felt like my entire body had been turned inside out.

If only I could create technology that would help men and women alike mimic Blake Boden’s appeal, our modern-day society—that’s so fixated on social media and popularity and achieving aesthetic perfection—would probably applaud it more than if I’d managed to cure cancer. Who knows, I guess. Maybe, if I’m really lucky, I’ll be able to do both. I haven’t even officially turned in my dissertation, and I already have big corporations trying to set up meetings with me to discuss the logistics and price tag, so it’s not outside the realm of possibility.

I snag my phone off Blake’s nightstand to check the time, and when I realize it’s quarter to seven in the morning, I carefully slip out from beneath his sleepy embrace and head into his bathroom.

I’m wearing nothing but Blake’s oversized Dragons Football T-shirt, and a lazy, satisfied smile stretches across my lips when I see myself in the mirror. Apparently, four orgasms come with an endorphin high that rivals any runner’s. I silently wonder if I should consider delving back into my Polarize app and adding an additional hypothesis related to the correlation between pleasure and relationships.Is there a statistical connection between orgasms and how much a woman wants a man?

When a woman has an orgasm, is there an internal physiological response that increases her attraction to her mate?

And if that’s the case, would relationships last longer and divorce rates go down if more men understood how to give women pleasure?

I shrug and make a mental note to consider playing around with it when I get the chance.

I turn on the faucet to splash some cold water over my face, wafting an unexpected hit of the scent that’s coming off Blake’s T-shirt up to my nostrils. The scent is a heady combination of warm and spicy, and I’m more than a little curious if whatever cologne he wears is another piece of his captivating puzzle.

Trust me, I know only I would be half dressed in the guy I’m in a secret relationship with’s bathroom, trying to analyze the power of scents and orgasms and their implications on modern relationships.

What can I say? I’ll live and die by the sword of science.

I take another sniff, and another lazy smile etches across my lips. A warmth spreads beneath my skin, and the urge to bury my face in the T-shirt creates quite the temptation. Clearly, I like his cologne. Instantly, my brain goes back into research mode, already forming another hypothetical I could put in Polarize.If Blake Boden’s proximity is universally appealing, does his cologne play a measurable role in enhancing his charisma?

And if yes, is a person’s choice of scent a significant factor in enhancing their perceived charisma, social appeal, and sexual attraction?

There are an abundance of academia-backed research papers on pheromones I could include in my inputs.

I toss my long blond locks into a messy bun and lean forward to wash my face, but just as I’m drying off with the white hand towel by the sink, two strong hands grip my hips. I peer over the towel to meet Blake’s eyes in the reflection in the mirror.

“Big plans for today?” he asks, an adorable grin making his lips quirk up.

“Not too much. Just my usual lab routine.” I shrug and turn around to face him. “What about you?”

“Practice in about an hour,” he says and steps forward to wrap his arms around my waist. “And then, I was hoping, you know, I’d get to see you again.”

His close proximity forces another strong waft of his delicious scent into my nose, and I blurt out, “What cologne do you wear?”

He tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly what I said. What cologne do you wear?”

“I don’t wear any cologne,” he says, his eyes glinting with amusement. “That’s all Eau De Me.”

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