Page 9 of Heart of Gold
“How much did you have to drink, anyway?”
I shake my head, trying to remember. I had a few with Levi and his friends, then maybe a couple more.
“How much haveyouhad to drink?” I toss back at him.
“I don’t drink,” he says, sitting up next to me on the bed, officially ruining whatever I thought was going to happen.
“Why do I all of a sudden feel like I’m being judged?” I ask.
“I’m not judging,” he laughs, holding his hands up, “I just don’t want to take advantage of you.”
I stare at him in disbelief. He doesn’t seem like the perfect gentleman type. In fact, he looks like the type of guy that would have girls lined up outside of his house with numbers taped to their shirts, waiting for their turn to audition. Hell, he probably does, especially since he made that comment about my tits at the pool.
“Stop acting like you aren’t the same as every other nineteen year old guy. It’s not about the sex. You want to have sex, you just don’t want to have sex withme.”
He tilts his brows together, “Trust me. I want to have sex with you. I just wantyouto remember it.”
Instantly, I go straight back to my closed off self, feeling a little embarrassed. “You should go.”
I take my arms and wrap them around my chest hiding myself.
“Or I could stay?” He smiles, taking his hand and gently tracing the outline of my collarbone.
“But you aren’t attracted to me, remember?”
He laces his fingers into my hair, kissing me possessively. “I never said I wasn’t attracted to you. I’m very attracted to you.”
“Are you always so confusing?”
“You mean honest?” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully, “Yeah, I am.”
“Then what do you propose we do if you stay, since you don’t want to take advantage of me?”
“We could talk.” He offers.
I roll my eyes, “I think I’ve heard you trip over your words enough in the past twenty four hours.”
“You make me nervous,” he argues.
His eyes sparkle in the dim lighting and that smile makes my limbs feel like spaghetti. I think he makes me nervous, too.
“Ok. Talk.” I demand.
He grins, and I roll my eyes, pulling a t-shirt from underneath him, and sliding it over my head.
“Why are you getting dressed?” He asks.
“Because the vibe is gone, Phoenix. It’s weird if I sit here in my underwear.”
He looks down at his boxers, and laughs. “I can’t believe you don’t know my real name.”
“Maybe it’s better that way.”
His grin returns, and he tugs at the hem of my t-shirt.
“Bobcat Football?”
Shit. I didn’t even realize I was wearing this particular shirt.
