Page 13 of Imperfections Seduced
“You know why not. It’s not appropriate, given your current updated Facebook status.”
“You know I don’t have a personal Facebook account; you don’t have one either. And no matter what my status is, we should be able to talk about anything. We’ve been friends since we were little kids. I understand if you’re…embarrassed—”
“I’m not embarrassed.”
“Are you sure? You look like you’re blushing.”
“I do not blush. Stop smiling at me.” I want to slap that smile off his face.
“There’s no harm in talking, Cat. That’s all we’re doing. You never wondered who my first time was with? Right now you’re wondering who it was, if you know her. If you weren’t thinking about it before, you’re thinking about it now; maybe it could have been one of your friends.”
“I know it wasn’t one of my friends; they were too young and you’re not that guy.” He gives me a crooked smile and shakes his head.
“How do you know? It very well could have been one of your older friends.”
“I know it wasn’t, so who was it?”
“Samantha Owens.”
“Samantha Owens, the cheerleader.”
“Why do you say it like that? She was nice.”
“I’m sure she was.”
“She was. I was fifteen, and she was my first serious girlfriend; she looked like Tiffani Amber Thiessen. You know, the actress fromSaved by the Bell?”
“Yeah, I know who you’re talking about. Chris and Jay watched that show, I liked it. She was the perky cheerleader everyone wanted to go out with, including my brothers.”
“Everyone wanted to date Samantha; she was popular, cute, and smart. She had all of that going for her, and she wasn’t mean or conceited.”
“What, a regular girl wasn’t good enough for you? You had to pick little Ms. Perfect.”
“No, I didn’t pick her. She actually picked me, even though she was a year older.”
“Please don’t act like you’re surprised. You were on the football team, your family had money, you made good grades, and you were good-looking. Why wouldn’t she choose you?”
“I would like to think that my personality had a little to do with her liking me.”
I roll my eyes at him again. “Okay, if that’s what you want to believe.”
“Like I was saying—”
“Yes, like you were saying.”
“Can I—”
“Yes, you can.” I like doing this to him; he hates to be interrupted in the middle of a sentence. I used to do it to him when we were younger. I knew it made him mad—that was the fun part. Seeing the look on his face now makes me remember why I liked doing it. I like to see his jaw clenched and his full lips, so freaking hot. “Okay, I’m sorry, you can finish your stroll down memory lane.”
“Cat, I know what you’re trying to do. I’m not bothered.”
Sure you’re not.I give him my I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about look.
“Like I was saying, one day after school we were at her house by ourselves. One minute we were sitting on her bed kissing and the next thing I know we were naked.”
“That’s it? You got naked and had sex—no discussion, no second thoughts from her, no yes, Nick, I want to dothis?” I throw my hand up to his chest in a dramatic defensive motion. “No Nick, I can’t! I’m too sweet, innocent, and perfect! Don’t pop my cherry.”
He raises his eyebrows and looks at me with an amused look, more of a smirk.
