Page 2 of The Charlie Method

“What are you, some high-powered businesswoman?”

“No, but I’m on the Delta Pi exec board, so I need to be there.”

He stares at me. A glance south reveals that his erection is deflating, though even in its semisolid state of matter, it remains impressive.

“Are you okay?” I ask as I climb off his lap. The passenger seat doesn’t provide much room either, but I manage to wiggle back into my lacy white underwear and smooth my pleated skirt over my thighs.

The football player beside me continues to stare. “I need you to be honest with me.”

“Okay?” I finger-comb my hair before tucking it behind my ears.

“Do I repel you?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Do I repel you?” he repeats through clenched teeth. The veins in his forearm bulge as he rubs the bridge of his nose. This is clearly painful for him.

“Isaac…you just had your fingers inside me,” I remind him.

“Yeah, and now you’re running away. Is it because I didn’t make you come?”

Oh my God. I know laughter is not the appropriate response in this situation, but it’s getting more and more difficult to contain mine. It bubbles deep in my throat, demanding to be free.

“Is that it?” he pushes.

“No.” I inject as much reassurance into my tone as I can. “I was seconds away from coming, I promise.”

“Really.”

“Dead serious. I just forgot I have a house meeting tonight.”

As if I hadn’t even spoken, he says, “Am I undesirable?”

I gape at him. “You’re Isaac Grant.”

“Well, yeah, IthoughtI was. Usually I can pull chicks without even trying. I walk into a room, and there’s, like, five thousand women ready to go home with me, and all of a sudden, one of themisn’tinto me? Suddenly someone is, like,wait, are you flirting with me? Sorry, I have plans, see you later.” He moans in outrage. “I thought I was Isaac Grant!”

“Oh, sweetie. Is someone making you doubt who you are?”

“No.”

He’s obviously lying. The example he gave wasveryspecific.

I reach over the center console and pat his huge bicep. “Whoever she is, she’s not worth this turmoil.” I wave my hand to gesture at his broad, muscular frame. “You’re a god. Your body is…” My eyes glaze over for a second, and I find myself leaning in as if to kiss him before realizing what I’m doing and snapping myself out of it. “Trust me. You’re gorgeous. And your finger game is stellar. Forget this girl.”

His lips curve into a hopeful smile. “Do I have to forget you too?”

“Huh?”

“That’s what you said outside the Coffee Hut yesterday, remember? That you’d meet up with me tonight and then we’d forget it ever happened.”

“Pretendit never happened,” I correct.

It’s the standard line I offer my hookups. If you see me on campus again, pretend we don’t know each other. I don’t need a gaggle of smitten men waddling up to me raving about our one-night stand when I’m with my prissy Delta Pi sisters.

Although to be honest, the last person I expected to arrange a hookup with was Isaac Grant. When he started flirting with me at the campus coffee shop yesterday, I was prepared to brush him off. Instead, he won me over. I’m still confused about how he did it. The guy has nothing to worry about in the charm department, that’s for sure.

“Technically, this doesn’t count as a proper meetup,” he tells me, waggling his eyebrows. “On account of neither of us finishing.”

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