Page 120 of How to Win the Girl

I feel like we weren’t discussing about how I’m jealous. We were discussing how you have girls hanging on you some of the time.

Can I video chat you? This conversation would be easier.

Um. Sure…..

thirty-three

daisy

If your ego is speaking, my attitude is going to reply.

I primp.

Even though I’m lying in bed, hair fanned out against my pillow, I primp. Makeup free. Face at a full shine from serums and moisturizer, I hope I look glowing and not oily.

Ugh.

He gives me a whopping five seconds to brace myself for his call, the video feature ringing, his name glowing on my screen.

I angle my head so I don’t have a double chin before swiping to accept the call, schooling my expression so I look pleasant. And cute.

“Hey.” His voice is deep. Low. Sleepy.

Giving him a wane smile, I glance at my own reflection in the small window at the bottom corner of the screen then up at his.

He’s shirtless.

Tan.

I can only see some of his upper torso, unfortunately, his body the product of hours at the gym, hours on the playing field. He’s toned and tight, his clavicle and collarbone a beautiful expanse of skin.

Skin.

Smooth, hairless chest.

His nipples aren’t visible either, but I imagine the whole package is appealing. Sexy.

Shit.

I look a total mess!

He smiles, mouth surrounded by a dark five o’clock shadow. It makes his teeth appear whiter.

Yum.

“So this is what you look like with no makeup on and in your pajamas, eh?”

I scoff. “You’ve seen me with no makeup on before. I don’t usually wear makeup to class.” I squirm under his inspection, wishing I had on a sexier top—tank top or a threadbare tee shirt perhaps—to tease him a little, instead of this ratty old crewneck.

If Drake Coulter were in this room with me, I feel as though he’d be undressing me with his eyes even though I’m wearing a sweatshirt and no makeup. His piercing dark gaze watches me as I lie here waiting for what he has to say that he wanted to say in person.

“Now what were we tawkin’ ‘bout?” he drawls. “We were discussin’ the girl situation.”

We were.

I nod.

“Let me explain somethin’ to you. I couldn't care less about girls. In fact, I couldn’t have given a shit about datin’ anyone until I met you. Isn’t that how it works? You go about your daily life, mindin’ your own business until you get cracked upside the skull by a pretty girl.”

---