Page 15 of Love Me Like It's Real
“No. I’m not saying I’m your soulmate.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m trying to say love is a scam and the sooner you wake up and realize it the happier you’ll be.”
I burst out in laughter and the mysterious stranger sinks lower in his chair before he speaks again.
“Will you stop that?”
“I can’t.” I try to steady my breathing but I’m still far too amused. “You’re being so funny?”
“I’m not being funny. I’m being honest. You’re only bound to get hurt. People are far better single than they are in relationships.”
“Amen, sister.” I raise my glass and sip my wine.
“Huh?” he asks, glancing back at Agnes again.
“You think I don’t know love is a scam? Trust me, dude, I know that firsthand.”
The stranger raises his eyebrow and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from saying something inappropriate and deeply, deeply sexual. He might be delulu, but he’s sexy delulu and I want to feel his body in my hands. Inch by inch. Not that it would ever happen, even if I wanted it to happen. I’m just a little boy and he’s a man. I know how these guys pick their partners. Based on the size of their biceps. And even worse, the size of their dicks.
“Then you shouldn’t be here, dude.”
“Who said I want to be here?” I ask, teasing the rim of my wine glass with my lips to prevent me from doing something stupid, like licking his fingers, or his face.
“Are you trying to say you don't?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Maybe?” I shrug.
I have to admit, just when I started to think this night couldn’t get more boring, he shows up and makes things…interesting.
Interesting and spicy.
Because the more I talk to him, the more alive my body becomes. Even my groin area, which has gone into deep slumber since Mark’s descent into lunacy, throbs at the prospect of a good time with a hunk like that, even if it’s nothing but a fantasy.
“I don't buy it,” he says and pushes himself back so I can finally read the wording on his T-shirt, under the struck-through heart.
Anti-Valentine Club.
Curious.
“I didn’t ask you to buy it.”
“Well, I don’t rent it then,” he bites back.
“Good, because it’s not for rent either.”
“You’re impossible,” he says.
“Oh, you havenoidea.” Okay this time, I do lick my wine glass very, very suggestively and even though I want to blush and run away, I don’t. I have no idea where this slutty Felix has come from but I’m not half mad at him.
He studies me for a second and I see his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows, which makes my insides flare with satisfaction.
“I meant—” he starts but has to stop and clear his throat before he continues. “I meant you’re impossible to talk to.”
“Am I? Weird, most people say I’m a breeze.”
Most people being me. I don’t know if it’s obvious yet but I don’t have many friends to tell me these things.
